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“Significantly, it was Disraeli who said, "What is a crime among the multitude is only a vice among the few"—perhaps the most profound insight into the very principle by which the slow and insidious decline of nineteenth-century society into the depth of mob and underworld morality took place. Since he knew this rule, he knew also that Jews would have no better chances anywhere than in circles which pretended to be exclusive and to discriminate against them; for inasmuch as these circles of the few, together with the multitude, thought of Jewishness as a crime, this "crime" could be transformed at any moment into an attractive "vice." Disraeli's display of eroticism, strangeness, mysteriousness, magic, and power drawn from secret sources, was aimed correctly at this disposition in society.”

“Significantly, God in Genesis 1 pronounces the rest of creation "good" before humanity is created. The psalmist and the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel can speak of mountains, trees, sun, and moon praising God. Unlike an office complex or gymnasium, which have no value if people do not inhabit them, creation can glorify and bring God delight apart from human presence.”

“Signor Renzo's lodge stood on a grassy knoll near the crest of the hill. It was a modest place, just a low stone hut, before which stretched a woven ceiling of vines. My dinner was cooked on an open fire by the table. This was no banquet, but what the cook called a pique-nique, a meal for hunters to take outdoors. After Renzo had chosen two fat ducklings from his larder, he spitted them over the fire. Then he made a dish of buttery rice crowned with speckled discs of truffle that tasted powerfully of God's own earth. 'Come sit with me,' I begged, for I did not like him to wait on me. So together we sat beneath the vines as I savored each morsel and guessed at the subtle flavorings. 'Wild garlic?' I asked, and he lifted his brows in surprise as he ate. 'And a herb,' I added, 'sage?' 'For a woman, you have excellent taste.' For a woman, indeed! I made a play of stabbing him with my knife. It was most pleasant to eat our pique-nique and drink the red wine, which they make so strong in that region that they call it black or nero. I asked him to speak of himself, and between a trial of little dishes of wild leaves, chestnut fritters, and raisin cake, Signor Renzo told me he was born in the city and had worked at a pastry's cook shop as a boy, where he soon discovered that good foods mixed with ingenious hands made people happy and free with their purses.”

“Signore," aveva risposto Saint-Savin, "la prima qualità di un onest'uomo è il disprezzo della religione, che ci vuole timorosi della cosa più naturale del mondo, che è la morte, odiatori dell'unica cosa bella che il destino ci ha dato, che è la vita, e aspiranti a un cielo dove di eterna beatitudine vivono solo i pianeti, che non godono né di premi né di condanne, ma del loro moto eterno, nelle braccia del vuoto. Siate orte come i saggi dell'antica Grecia e guardate alla morte con occhio fermo e senza paura. Gesù ha sudato troppo aspettandola. Che cosa aveva da temere d'altra parte, poiché sarebbe resuscitato?”

“Signs are small measurable things, but interpretations are illimitable, and in girls of sweet, ardent nature, every sign is apt to conjure up wonder, hope, belief, vast as a sky, and colored by a thimbleful of matter in the shape of knowledge....wrong reasoning sometimes lands poor mortals in right conclusions: starting a long way off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags, we now and then arrive just where we ought to be. Just because Miss Brooke was hasty in her trust, it is not therefore clear that Mr. Casaubon was unworthy of it.”

“Signs of Hokkaido's muscular dairy industry tattoo the terrain everywhere: packs of Holsteins chew cud unblinkingly in the sunlight, ice cream shops proffer hyperseason flavors to hungry leaf gazers, and giant silos offer advice to the calcium deficient: "Drink Hokkaido Milk!" Even better than drinking the island's milk is drinking its yogurt, which you can do at Milk Kobo, a converted red barn with cows and tractors and generous views of Mount Yotei, which locals call Ezo Fuji. Kobo sells all manner of dairy products, but you're here for the drinkable yogurt, which has a light current of sweetness and a deep lactic tang, a product so good that the second it hits my lips, I give up water for the week.”

“Signs usually come in threes. The same book is recommended to you several times within the space of a day, for example. You overhear someone mention the same company three times in a week. Or, you get the same feeling again and again. Notice your feelings. Again, true divine guidance feels safe, even if it does feel intimidating. False guidance feels edgy, shaky - like you're sneaking under the wire. It doesn't feel right.”

“Sigtryggr held out a hand to pull me from the ditch. His one eye was bright with the same joy I had seen on Ceaster’s ramparts. ‘I would not want you as an enemy, Lord Uhtred,’ he said. ‘Then don’t come back, Jarl Sigtryggr,’ I said, clasping his forearm as he clasped mine. ‘I will be back,’ he said, ‘because you will want me to come back.’ ‘I will?’ He turned his head to gaze at his ships. One ship was close to the shore, held there by a mooring line tied to a stake. The prow of the ship had a great dragon painted white and in the dragon’s claw was a red axe. The ship waited for Sigtryggr, but close to it, standing where the grass turned to the river bank’s mud, was Stiorra. Her maid, Hella, was already aboard the dragon-ship. Æthelflaed had been watching Eardwulf’s death, but now saw Stiorra by the grounded ship. She frowned, not sure she understood what she saw. ‘Lord Uhtred?’ ‘My lady?’ ‘Your daughter,’ she began, but did not know what to say. ‘I will deal with my daughter,’ I said grimly. ‘Finan?’ My son and Finan were both staring at me, wondering what I would do. ‘Finan?’ I called. ‘Lord?’ ‘Kill that scum,’ I jerked my head towards Eardwulf’s followers, then I took Sigtryggr by the elbow and walked him towards his ship. ‘Lord Uhtred!’ Æthelflaed called again, sharper this time. I waved a dismissive hand, and otherwise ignored her. ‘I thought she disliked you,’ I said to Sigtryggr. ‘We meant you to think that.’ ‘You don’t know her,’ I said. ‘You knew her mother when you met her?’ ‘This is madness,’ I said. ‘And you are famous for your good sense, lord.’ Stiorra waited for us. She was tense. She stared at me defiantly and said nothing. I felt a lump in my throat and a sting in my eyes. I told myself it was the small smoke drifting from the Norsemen’s abandoned campfires. ‘You’re a fool,’ I told her harshly. ‘I saw,’ she said simply, ‘and I was stricken.’ ‘And so was he?’ I asked, and she just nodded. ‘And the last two nights,’ I asked, ‘after the feasting was over?’ I did not finish the question, but she answered it anyway by nodding again. ‘You are your mother’s daughter,’ I said, and I embraced her, holding her close. ‘But it is my choice whom you marry,’ I went on. I felt her stiffen in my arms, ‘And Lord Æthelhelm wants to marry you.’ I thought she was sobbing, but when I pulled back from the embrace I saw she was laughing. ‘Lord Æthelhelm?’ she asked. ‘You’ll be the richest widow in all Britain,’ I promised her. She still held me, looking up into my face. She smiled, that same smile that had been her mother’s. ‘Father,’ she said, ‘I swear on my life that I will accept the man you choose to be my husband.’ She knew me. She had seen my tears and knew they were not caused by smoke. I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. ‘You will be a peace cow,’ I said, ‘between me and the Norse. And you’re a fool. So am I. And your dowry,’ I spoke louder as I stepped back, ‘is Eardwulf’s money.’ I saw I had smeared her pale linen dress with Eardwulf’s blood. I looked at Sigtryggr. ‘I give her to you,’ I said, ‘so don’t disappoint me.”

“Sigue pintando mucho rato, se aleja de la tavola y vuelve a acercarse. Observa la transición del cuenco a la miel y a los pliegues y arrugas del paño. Sigue su curso entre los objetos, entre la forma en que influyen unos en otros, entre los espacios y las conversaciones que sostienen entre ellos; se reduce al tamaño de un escarabajo para poder pasar por los huecos que quedan entre los melocotones y por los hexágonos contiguos del panal. Palpa las formas correspondientes en el cuadro usando los pinceles como si fueran patas o antenas, buscando el camino en el terreno desconocido de cada objeto, abriéndose paso en lo que hay por debajo de lo que se ve”

“siguió evocando hasta el amanecer las excelencias del marido, sin reprocharle otra deslealtad que la de haberse muerto sin ella, y redimida por la certidumbre de que nunca había sido tan suyo como lo era entonces, dentro de un cajón clavado con doce clavos de tres pulgadas, y a dos metros debajo de la tierra. —Soy feliz —dijo— porque sólo ahora sé con seguridad dónde está cuando no está en la casa.”

“Sigyn’s way takes such courage. Her way is a quiet way of personal mindfulness and dedication. It is a simple way. It is a terrifying way. Walking in Her footsteps means that there is no place to hide: no fine words, no angry posturing, no pride, no ego, no boasting–Her deeds are boast enough. There is nothing but what must be done and a heart committed to the doing. Sigyn’s way is simple: constancy of the heart, in the face of hatred, opposition, jealousy, slander, exhaustion, grief, anguish, rage, despair and a thousand other obstacles that life has a way of creating. She is constancy of purpose. […] She is vast, and Her strength is vast even as it is so completely unassuming. It simply is and will not be moved. She is the ‘Lady of Unyielding Gentleness’ for much the same reason. Her gentleness of spirit is Her shield and Her strength, and in it She is fierce. Her devotion is Her armor.”

“Sihri' tutarlı bir biçimde kullanmadım; Elf kraliçesi Galadriel hikayede, bu sözcüğü, Düşman'ın da Elflerin de hem araçları hem de harekatı hakkında kullanan kafası karışık Hobbit'lere serzenişte bulunmakta haklı. bu benim için geçerli değil, çünkü ikincisinin karşılığı olan bir sözcük yok. Fakat Elfler burada farkı ortaya koyuyorlar. Onların 'sihri' insanın sınırlılıklarından kurtulduğu Sanat: çok daha az çabayla, daha hızlı, daha karmaşık. Ve bu edimlerinin nesnesi Güç değil Sanat, Yaratının tahakküm altına alınması değil, alt-yaratıdır.”

“Siihen, mikä erottaa ihmisen muista eläimistä, on vaikea vastata. Sellaista hyvin yleistä ominaisuutta, joka luonnehtisi nimenomaan ihmisen elämää, mutta ei minkään muun eläimen elämää, ei ole helppo löytää. Näin on huolimatta siitä, että voimme luetella joukon yksinomaan ihmiskulttuurin ilmentymiä kuten tieteen, taiteen tai politiikan harjoittaminen. Näiden voidaan olettaa olevan seurausta jostakin yleisemmästä, inhimillisestä periaatteesta, joka säätelee yksinomaan ihmislajin toimintaa. Tyydymme nimittämään tätä ihmisen ominaispiirrettä yksinkertaisesti "inhimillisyydeksi". Inhimillisyys erottaa ihmiset eläimistä ja se on kompleksi ja laaja käsite samoin kuin "elämän" ja "tietoisuuden" käsitteet ovat. Inhimillisyyteen liittyy ihmisen lajityypillinen kieli. Ihmisen on uskottu eroavan muista eläimistä kielen sekä rationaalisuuden ja moraalisen kyvyn vuoksi. Kieli, joka ilmentää rationaalisuutta ja moraalisuutta, on ihmisen ainutlaatuinen ominaisuus, jota muilla eläimillä ei näyttäisi olevan.”

“Siinä koko lapsuus. Sellainen se oli. Pääsin pois, mutta missään ei ovea, josta sujahtaisi uudestaan lapsuuteen, parempaan lapsuuteen, parempaan versioon. Sitä ei ole missään. Isä ei koskaan pyydä anteeksi. Ei kertaakaan. Ja sitten se kuolee. Se on nyt kuollut, on turha odotella enää mitään. Se, että on turha odotella enää mitään, on sekä ihan isosti helpottava asia että aivan surullinen juttu.”