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Quote by Péter Nádas

“Nem érted, mi történik, még soha nem éltél át hasonlót, mégis pontosan tudod, hogy ezt nevezik halálverítéknek. Jéghideg van önnön forróságod felszínén. Miközben látod, hogy körülötted semmi nem változott meg, s így azért azt is fölfogod, hogy a saját észleléseid és a mások észlelései között nagyobb a különbség, mint amennyi megszokott és elvárható. Olyan szenzációban van részem, ami engem érint, a többieket nem. Már kora reggel igen távol voltam tőlük, s ezek szerint most még távolabb. Nem veri ki őket olyan forróság, aminek jéghideg páncél a felszíne. Igazán nem gondoltam volna, hogy ilyen közel állnék vadidegen emberekhez, most azonban a halálfélelemtől kikerekedett szemekkel fogtam fel, hogy egymáshoz kölcsönösen igazodva, minden pillanatban másokon mérjük be a magunk helyzetét, és magunkon ellenőrizzük a másikét.”

Quote by Péter Nádas

Book:Own Death
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Own Death

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Péter Nádas

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“A napfénytől felforrósodott néma lakásban, történjen bármi, biztonságban éreztem magam. A rejtekhely biztonsága fontosabb a levegőnél. Távol lenni mindentől és mindenkitől. Annál azért már többre tartja magát az ember, hogy a saját egoizmusát, más néven az állatiasságát elfogadja. Nem gondoltam az égvilágon senkire. Nem volt levegő. Arra sem gondoltam, hogy valakire gondolnom kéne, vagy lenne lény a földön, akire nem gondolok. Halála óráján tényleg egyedül marad az ember, ezt azonban a nyereség oldalán kell elkönyvelni.”

DeathDyingSicknessDeath And DyingLast Words
Book:Own Death
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“I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)”

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Author:Barbara Blatner
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“Tell me something. Do you believe in God?' Snow darted an apprehensive glance in my direction. 'What? Who still believes nowadays?' 'It isn't that simple. I don't mean the traditional God of Earth religion. I'm no expert in the history of religions, and perhaps this is nothing new--do you happen to know if there was ever a belief in an...imperfect God?' 'What do you mean by imperfect?' Snow frowned. 'In a way all the gods of the old religions were imperfect, considered that their attributes were amplified human ones. The God of the Old Testament, for instance, required humble submission and sacrifices, and and was jealous of other gods. The Greek gods had fits of sulks and family quarrels, and they were just as imperfect as mortals...' 'No,' I interrupted. 'I'm not thinking of a god whose imperfection arises out of the candor of his human creators, but one whose imperfection represents his essential characteristic: a god limited in his omniscience and power, fallible, incapable of foreseeing the consequences of his acts, and creating things that lead to horror. He is a...sick god, whose ambitions exceed his powers and who does not realize it at first. A god who has created clocks, but not the time they measure. He has created systems or mechanisms that serves specific ends but have now overstepped and betrayed them. And he has created eternity, which was to have measured his power, and which measures his unending defeat.' Snow hesitated, but his attitude no longer showed any of the wary reserve of recent weeks: 'There was Manicheanism...' 'Nothing at all to do with the principles of Good and Evil,' I broke in immediately. 'This god has no existence outside of matter. He would like to free himself from matter, but he cannot...' Snow pondered for a while: 'I don't know of any religion that answers your description. That kind of religion has never been...necessary. If i understand you, and I'm afraid I do, what you have in mind is an evolving god, who develops in the course of time, grows, and keeps increasing in power while remaining aware of his powerlessness. For your god, the divine condition is a situation without a goal. And understanding that, he despairs. But isn't this despairing god of yours mankind, Kelvin? Is it man you are talking about, and that is a fallacy, not just philosophically but also mystically speaking.' I kept on: 'No, it's nothing to do with man. man may correspond to my provisional definition from some point of view, but that is because the definition has a lot of gaps. Man does not create gods, in spite of appearances. The times, the age, impose them on him. Man can serve is age or rebel against it, but the target of his cooperation or rebellion comes to him from outside. If there was only a since human being in existence, he would apparently be able to attempt the experiment of creating his own goals in complete freedom--apparently, because a man not brought up among other human beings cannot become a man. And the being--the being I have in mind--cannot exist in the plural, you see? ...Perhaps he has already been born somewhere, in some corner of the galaxy, and soon he will have some childish enthusiasm that will set him putting out one star and lighting another. We will notice him after a while...' 'We already have,' Snow said sarcastically. 'Novas and supernovas. According to you they are candles on his altar.' 'If you're going to take what I say literally...' ...Snow asked abruptly: 'What gave you this idea of an imperfect god?' 'I don't know. It seems quite feasible to me. That is the only god I could imagine believing in, a god whose passion is not a redemption, who saves nothing, fulfills no purpose--a god who simply is.”

PhilosophyGodTruthScienceTimeReligionBeliefSpaceEmotionExistenceTheoryEvolutionConversationDespairMythologyTheologyImmortalityExistentialismMortalityImperfectionSpace ExplorationCreationism
Book:Solaris
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“Just as I am watching a tongue of blue flame rising in the fire, and my lamp is burning low, the horrible contraction will begin in my chest. I shall only have time to reach the bell, and pull it violently, before the sense of suffocation will come. No one will answer my bell. I know why. My two servants are lovers, and will have quarrelled. My housekeeper will have rushed out of the house in a fury, two hours before, hoping that Perry will believe she has gone to drown herself. Perry is alarmed at last, and is gone out after her. The little scullery-maid is asleep on a bench: she never answers the bell; it does not wake her. The sense of suffocation increases: my lamp goes out with a horrible stench: I make a great effort, and snatch at the bell again. I long for life, and there is no help. I thirsted for the unknown: the thirst is gone. 0 God, let me stay with the known, and be weary of it. I am content. Agony of pain and suffocation - and all the while the earth, the fields, the pebbly brook at the bottom of the rookery, the fresh scent after the rain, the light of the morning through my chamber window, the warmth of the hearth after the frosty air - will darkness close over them for ever? Darkness-darkness-no pain-nothing but darkness: but I am passing on and on through the darkness: my thought stays in the darkness, but always with a sense of moving onward ... ("The Lifted Veil")”

DeathDying
Book:The Lifted Veil
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