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Umberto Eco Quotes

Browse 33 quotes about Umberto Eco.

Umberto Eco Quotes

“...and it is characteristic of the young to become bound to an older and wiser man not only by the spell of his words and the sharpness of his mind, but also by the superficial form of his body, which proves very dear, like the figure of a father, whose gestures we study and whose frowns, whose smile we observe—without a shadow of lust to pollute this form (perhaps the only that is truly pure) of corporal love.”

PhilosophyIntellectPurityAdmirationTeacher StudentMentorshipFather FigureUmberto EcoThe Name Of The RoseCorporal Love
Book:The Name of the Rose
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“Beware of faking: people will believe you. People believe those who sell lotions that make lost hair grow back. They sense instinctively that the salesman is putting together truths that don't go together, that he's not being logical, that he's not speaking in good faith. But they've been told that God is mysterious, unfathomable, so to them incoherence is the closest thing to God. The farfetched is the closest thing to miracle.”

Umberto EcoFoucault S Pendulum
Author:Umberto Eco
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“Не однажды приводилось мне осматривать скрипторий, но ни в одном из них столь блистательно не представало мне в переливах физического сияния, заставлявших все кругом себя светиться и сверкать, то духовное начало, олицетворяемое стихией света - claritas, которое есть кладезь любой красоты и любой премудрости и неотъемлемое качество той гармонии, которая показывалась во всех пропорциях залы. Ибо три условия должны сойтись для нарождения красоты: прежде всего целокупность, сиречь совершенство, и потому мы считаем уродливыми незавершенные вещи; далее, достойная пропорциональность, сиречь соразмерность; и, наконец, яркость и светлота, и поэтому мы считаем красивыми вещи ясных цветов. И поскольку созерцание красоты доставляет покой в душу, а для нашей души едино, предаваться ли покою, добру или красоте, я и ощутил в душе своей величайшее успокоение и подумал, до чего, должно быть, приятно заниматься в таком чудеснейшем месте.”

Umberto EcoName Of The Rose
Author:Umberto Eco
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“كان رجال العهود الغابرة وسيمي الطلعة طويلي القامة و الآن أصبحوا أطفالاً و أقزاماً وليس هذا إلا دليلاً من جملة أدلة أخرى كثيرة تشهد بتعاسة عالم يسير نحو الهرم”

Umberto EcoThe Name Of The Roseحكمةاسم الوردةالهرمالجمالالزمن التاريخالعالم
Book:The Name of the Rose
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“You cannot change the world with ideas. People with few ideas are less likely to make mistakes; they follow what everyone else does and are no trouble to anyone; they're successful, make money, find good jobs, enter politics, receive honours; they become famous writers, academics, journalists. Can anyone who is so good at looking after their own interests really be stupid? I'm the stupid one, the one who wanted to go tilting at windmills.”

EcoUmberto EcoThe Prague Cemetery
Book:The Prague Cemetery
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“In the past men were handsome and great (now they are children and dwarfs), but this is merely one of the many facts that demonstrate the disaster of an aging world. The young no longer want to study anything, learning is in decline, the whole world walks on its head, blind men lead others equally blind and cause them to plunge into the abyss, birds leave the nest before they can fly, the jackass plays the lyre, oxen dance.”

MisanthropyUmberto EcoHuman Decline
Book:The Name of the Rose
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“Variante. Tu sei un autore, non sai ancora quanto grande, colei che amavi ti ha tradito, la vita per te non ha più senso e un giorno, per dimenticare, fai un viaggio sul Titanic e naufraghi nei mari del sud, ti raccoglie (unico superstite) una piroga di indigeni e passi lunghi anni ignorato da tutti, su di un'isola abitata solo da papuasi, con le ragazze che ti cantano canzoni di intenso languore, agitando i seni appena coperti dalla collana di fiori di pua. Cominci ad abituarti, ti chiamano Jim, come fanno coi bianchi, una ragazza dalla pelle ambrata ti si introduce una sera nella capanna e ti dice: "Io tua, io con te." In fondo è bello, la sera, stare sdraiato sulla veranda a guardare la Croce del Sud mentre lei ti accarezza la fronte. Vivi secondo il ciclo delle albe e dei tramonti, e non sai d'altro. Un giorno arriva una barca a motore con degli olandesi, apprendi che sono passati dieci anni, potresti andare via con loro, ma esiti, preferisci scambiare noci di cocco con derrate, prometti che potresti occuparti della raccolta della canapa, gli indigeni lavorano per te, tu cominci a navigare da isolotto a isolotto, sei diventato per tutti Jim della Canapa. Un avventuriero portoghese rovinato dall'alcool viene a lavorare con te e si redime, tutti parlano ormai di te in quei mari della Sonda, dai consigli al marajà di Brunei per una campagna contro i dajaki del fiume, riesci a riattivare un vecchio cannone dei tempi di Tippo Sahib, caricato a chiodaglia, alleni una squadra di malesi devoti, coi denti anneriti dal betel in uno scontro presso la Barriera Corallina il vecchio Sampan, i denti anneriti dal betel, ti fa scudo col proprio corpo - Sono contento di morire per te, Jim della Canapa. - Vecchio, vecchio Sampan, amico mio. Ormai sei famoso in tutto l'arcipelago tra Sumatra e Port-au-Prince, tratti con gli inglesi, alla capitaneria del di Darwin sei registrato come Kurtz, e ormai sei Kurtz per tutti - Jim della Canapa per gli indigeni. Ma una sera, mentre la ragazza ti accarezza sulla veranda e la Croce del Sud sfavilla come non mai, ahi quanto, diversa dall'Orsa, tu capisci: vorresti tornare. Solo per poco, per vedere che cosa sia rimasto di te, laggiù. Prendi la barca a motore, raggiungi Manila, di là un aereo a elica ti porta a Bali. Poi Samoa, Isole dell'Ammiragliato, Singapore, Tananarive, Timbuctu, Aleppo, Samarcanda, Bassora, Malta e sei a casa. Sono passati diciott'anni, la vita ti ha segnato, il viso è abbronzato dagli alisei, sei più vecchio, forse più bello. Ed ecco che appena arrivato scopri che le librerie ostentano tutti i tuoi libri, in riedizioni critiche, c'è il tuo nome sul frontone della vecchia scuola dove hai imparato a leggere e a scrivere. Sei il Grande Poeta Scomparso, la coscienza della generazione. Fanciulle romantiche si uccidono sulla tua tomba vuota. E poi incontro te, amore, con tante rughe intorno agli occhi, e il volto ancora bello che si strugge di ricordo, e tenero rimorso. Quasi ti ho sfiorata sul marciapiede, sono là a due passi, e tu mi hai guardato come guardi tutti, cercando un altro oltre la loro ombra. Potrei parlare, cancellare il tempo. Ma a che scopo? Non ho già avuto quello che volevo? Io sono Dio, la stessa solitudine, la stessa vanagloria, la stessa disperazione per non essere una delle mie creature come tutti. Tutti che vivono nella mia luce e io che vivo nello scintillio insopportabile della mia tenebra.”

ItalianUmberto Eco
Book:Foucault’s Pendulum
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“Her ne olursa olsun, kurmaca yapıtlar okumaktan vazgeçmeyeceğiz, çünkü onlarda yaşamımıza bir anlam verecek formülü aramaktayız. Sonuçta, yaşamımız süresince, bize neden dünyaya geldiğimizi ve yaşadığımızı söyleyecek bir ilk öykünün arayışı içindeyiz. Kimi zaman kozmik bir öykü arıyoruz, evrenin öyküsünü, kimi zaman kendi bireysel öykümüzü. Kimi zaman da kendi bireysel öykümüzü evrenin öyküsüyle çakıştırmayı umuyoruz.”

Umberto EcoAnlatı Ormanlarında Altı GezintiSix Walks In The Fictional Woods
Book:Six Walks in the Fictional Woods
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“Jusqu'alors j'avais pensé que chaque livre parlait des choses, humaines ou divines, qui se trouvent hors des livres. Or je m'apercevais que qu'il n'est pas rare que les livres parlent de livres, autrement dit, qu'ils parlent entre eux. À la lumière de cette réflexion, la bibliothèque m'apparut encore plus inquiétante. Elle était donc le lieu d'un long et séculaire murmure, d'un dialogue imperceptible entre parchemin et parchemin, une chose vivante, un réceptacle de puissances qu'un esprit humain ne pouvait dominer, trésor de secrets émanés de tant d'esprits, et survivant après la mort de ceux qui les avaient produits, ou s'en étaient faits les messagers. Le Nom de la rose de Umberto Eco.”

Umberto Eco
Book:The Name of the Rose
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“[Adso, experiencing a divine allegorical vision] I saw a voluptuous woman, naked and fleshless, gnawed by foul toads, sucked by serpents, coupled with a fat-bellied satyr whose gryphon legs were covered with wiry hairs, howling its own damnation from an obscene throat; and I saw a miser, stiff in the stiffness of death on his sumptuously columned bed, now helpless prey of a cohort of demons, one of whom tore from the dying man's mouth his soul in the form of an infant (alas, never to be again born to eternal life); and I saw a proud man with a devil clinging to his shoulders and thrusting his claws into the man's eyes, while two gluttons tore each other apart in a repulsive hand-to-hand struggle, and other creatures as well, goat head and lion fur, panther's jaws, all prisoners in a forest of flames whose searing breath I could almost feel.”

Umberto EcoThe Name Of The Rose
Book:The Name of the Rose
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“Eco's emphasis is a productivist one: his view of sign production, and especially of the mode he calls invention, associating it with art and creativity, is from the perspective of the maker, the speaker, the artist, the producer of signs. But what about the woman? She has no access to the codes of the invisible city which represents her and absents her; she is not in the place of Eco's "subject of semiosis"-homo faber, the city builder, the producer of signs. Nor is she in the repre­sentation which inscribes her as absent. The woman cannot transform the codes; she can only transgress them, make trouble, provoke, per­vert, turn the representation into a trap ("this ugly city, this trap"). For semiotics too, finally, the founding tale remains the same. Though now the place of the female subject in language, in discourse, and in the social may be understood another way, it is an equally impossible position. She now finds herself in the empty space between the signs, in a void of meaning, where no demand is possible and no code available; or, going back to the cinema, she finds herself in the place of the female spectator, between the look of the camera (the masculine representation) and the image on the screen (the specular fixity of the feminine representation), not one or the other but both and neither.”

CinemaSemioticsUmberto Eco
Book:Alice Doesn't: Feminism, Semiotics, Cinema
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“The abundance of windows meant that the great room was cheered by a constant diffused light, even on a winter afternoon. The panes were not colored like church windows, and the lead-framed squares of clear glass allowed the light to enter in the purest possible fashion, not modulated by human art, and thus to serve its purpose, which was to illuminate the work of reading and writing. I have seen at other times and in other places many scriptoria, but none where there shone so luminously, in the outpouring, of physical light which made the room glow, the spiritual principle that light incarnates, radiance, source of all beauty and learning, inseparable attribute of that proportion the room embodied. For three things concur in creating beauty: first of all integrity or perfection, and for this reason we consider ugly all incomplete things; then proper proportion or consonance; and finally clarity and light, and in fact we call beautiful those things of definite color. And since the sight of the beautiful implies peace, and since our appetite is calmed similarly by peacefulness, by the good, and by the beautiful, I felt myself filled with a great consolation and I thought how pleasant it must be to work in that place.”

LightBeautyUmberto Eco
Book:The Name of the Rose
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