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Quote by Ted Chiang

Work

Stories of Your Life and Others

This compilation features a series of short stories that delve into the complexities of time, memory, and human existence, blending elements of science fiction with philosophical inquiry. more

Author

Ted Chiang
Ted Chiang

Ted Chiang, born in 1967, is an outstanding science fiction writer. His works are renowned for their profound philosophical thinking and exquisite narrative structure, earning him high praise from readers and critics alike. more

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“Fate is a woman, I said to them. In fact, she is three women. Young, like us, so that they will have the courage to be cruel, having no weight of memory to teach temperance. Young, but so old, older than any stone. Their hair is silver, but full and long. Their eyes are black. But when they are at their work they become dogs, wolves, for they are hounds of death, and also hounds of joy. They take the strands of life in their jaws, and sometimes they are careful with their jagged teeth, and sometimes they are not. They gallop around a great monolith, the stone that pierces our Sphere where the meridians meet, that turns the Earth and pins it in place in the world. It is called the Spindle of Necessity, and all round it the wolves of fate run, and run, and run, and the patterns of their winding are the patterns of the world. Nothing can occur without them, but they take no sides. I could also say that there is such a stone, such a place, but the dogs who are women died long ago, and left the strands to fall, and we have been helpless ever since. That in a wolfless world we must find our own way. That is more comforting to me. I want my own way, I want to falter; I want to fail, and I want to be redeemed. All these things I want to spool out from the spindle that is me, not the spindle of the world. But I have heard both tales.”

YoungFateChoiceFree WillFailOldWolvesCruelRedeemFalterSpindle
Book:The Habitation of the Blessed
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“And any room that I enter may become a sideshow tent where I must take my place upon a rickety old bench on the verge of collapse. Even now the Showman stands before my eyes. His stiff red hair moves a little toward one shoulder, as if he is going to turn his gaze upon me, and moves back again; then his head moves a little toward the other shoulder in this never-ending game of horrible peek-a-boo. I can only sit and wait, knowing that one day he will turn full around, step down from his stage, and claim me for the abyss I have always feared. Perhaps then I will discover what it was I did - what any of us did - to deserve this fate.”

FearFateStageDeserveRedCollapseAbyssPlaceWaitRoomClaimShowmanSideshowPeek A Boo
Book:Teatro Grottesco
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“No mi kršćani upućeni smo po središtu našega Creda - 'mučen pod Poncijem Pilatom' - u povijest u kojoj je bilo razapinjanja i mučenja, u kojoj se plakalo i tako rijetko ljubilo. I nikakav od povijesti udaljeni mit, nikakav Platonovi idejni Bog, nikakva gnostička soteriologija i nikakav apstraktni govor o povijesnosti naše egzistencije ne mogu nam vratiti onu nedužnost koju smo u toj povijesti izgubili.”

GodHistoryInnocencePlatoLoss Of InnocenceSoteriologyHistoricity Of Existence
Book:Memoria passionis: Ein provozierendes Gedächtnis in pluralistischer Gesellschaft
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