John Fowles

“Yaptığınız şeyler, daha önce yaptıklarınızı belirsizleştirir.”

“The silence was terrible then, as tense as a bridge about to break, a tower to fall; unedurable in its emotion, its truth bursting to be spoken.”

“Birine bağırmak, hala bir bağın bulunduğunu gösterir.”

“Urasc oamenii de stiinta care colectioneaza lucruri si le clasifica si le dau nume,ca apoi sa uite cu totul de ele.La fel se intampla si in arta.Eticheteaza un pictor drept impresionist sau cubist sau altceva si il pun intr-un anume sertar si nu se mai gandesc la ca la o fiinta umana care picteaza”

“You use your life.”

“A word (...) is never the destination, merely a signpost in its general direction; and whatever (...) body that destination finally acquires owes quite as much to the reader as to the writer.”

“He said, it's rather like your voice. You put up with your voice and speak with it because you haven't any choice. But it's what you say that counts. It's what distinguishes all great art from the other kind.”

“Do you know that every great thing in the history of art and every beautiful thing in life is actually what you call nasty or has been caused by feelings that you would call nasty? By passion, by love, by hatred, by truth. Do you know that?”

“Stop thinking about class, she'd say. Like a rich man telling a poor man to stop thinking about money.”

“It's despair that so few of us care. It's despair that there's so much brutality and callousness in the world. It's despair that perfectly normal young men can be made vicious and evil because they've won a lot of money. And then do what you've done to me.”

“Duty is but a pot. It holds whatever is put in it, from the greatest evil to the greatest good.”

“I am Mrs. Poulteney. I have come to take up residence. Kindly inform your Master.""His Infinitude has been informed of your decease, ma'am. His angels have already sung a Jubilate in celebration of the event.""That is most proper and kind of Him." And the worthy lady, pluming and swelling, made to sweep into the imposing white hall she saw beyond the butler's head. But the man did not move aside. Instead, he rather impertinently jangled some keys he chanced to have in his hand."My man! Make way. I am she. Mrs. Poulteney of Lyme Regis.""Formerly of Lyme Regis, ma'am. And now of a much more tropical abode." With that, the brutal flunkey slammed the door in her face.”

“Sarah turned on her, and shook her head. "You may keep them. And if it is possible with so small a sum of money, I suggest you purchase some instrument of torture. I am sure Mrs. Fairly will be pleased to help you use it upon all those wretched enough to come under your power.”

“Staring out to sea, I finally forced myself to stop thinking of her as someone still somewhere, if only in memory, still obscurely alive, breathing, doing, moving, but as a shovelful of ashes already scattered; as a broken link, a biological dead end, an eternal withdrawal from reality, a once complex object that now dwindled, dwindled, left nothing behind except a l like a fallen speck of soot on a blank sheet of paper.”

“You may think novelists always have fixed plans to which they work, so that the future predicted by Chapter One is always inexorably the actuality of Chapter Thirteen. But novelists write for countless different reasons: for money, for fame, for reviewers, for parents, for friends, for loved ones; for vanity, for pride, for curiosity, for amusement: as skilled furniture makers enjoy making furniture, as drunkards like drinking, as judges like judging, as Sicilians like emptying a shotgun into an enemy's back. I could fill a book with reasons, and they would all be true, though not true of all. Only one same reason is shared by all of us: we wish to create worlds as real as, but other than the world that is. Or was. This is why we cannot plan. We know a world is an organism, not a machine. We also know that a genuinely created world must be independent of its creator; a planned world (a world that fully reveals its planning) is a dead world. It is only when our characters and events begin to disobey us that they begin to live.”

“Charles gave his hat to Mary, set his lapels, wished he were dead, then went down the hall and into his ordeal.”

“Oh,clever... what's the use of that? Are they human beings?”

“Under this swarm of waspish self-inquiries he began to feel sorry for himself - a brilliant man trapped, a Byron tamed; and his mind wandered back to Sarah, to visual images, attempts to recollect that face, that mouth, that generous mouth. Undoubtedly it awoke some memory in him, too tenuous, perhaps too general, to trace to any source in his past; but it unsettled him and haunted him, by calling to some hidden self he hardly knew existed. He said it to himself: It is the stupidest thing, but that girl attracts me. It seemed clear to him that it was not Sarah in herself who attracted him - how could she, he was betrothed - but some emotion, some possibility she symbolized. She made him aware of a deprivation. His future had always seemed to him of vast potential; and now suddenly it was a fixed voyage to a known place. She had reminded him of that.”

“She's always looking for poetry and passion and sensitivity, the whole Romantic kitchen. I live on a rather simpler diet.' 'Prose and pudding?''I don't expect attractive men necessarily to have attractive souls.”

“I did not pray for her, because prayer has no efficacy; I did not cry for her, or for myself, because only extroverts cry twice; but I sat in the silence of that night, that infinite hostility to man, to permanence, to love, remembering her, remembering her.”

“I had always believed, and not only out of cynicism, that a man and a woman could tell in the first ten minutes whether they wanted to go to bed together; and that the time that passed after those first ten minutes represented a tax, which might be worth paying if the article promised to be really enjoyable, but which nine times out of ten became rapidly excessive.”

“There are three types of intelligent persons: the first so intelligent that being called very intelligent must seem natural and obvious; the second sufficiently intelligent to see that he is being flattered, not described; the third so little intelligent that he will believe anything. I knew I belonged to the second kind.”

“A fost odată un tânăr prinț care credea în toate lucrurile, în afară de trei. Nu credea în prințese, nu credea în insule, nu credea în Dumnezeu. Împăratul, tatăl său, îi spusese că aceste lucruri nu există. Și cum nu erau nici prințese, nici insule și nici vreun semn al existenței lui Dumnezeu în împărăția tatălui său, tânărul prinț îi dădu crezare.”

“Ne considera, pe mine si pe fete, imaturi si naivi, dar noi ne puteam dovedi de zece ori mai perfizi decat el, tocmai pentru ca eram englezi - nascuti pentru a purta masca si educati de mici sa mintim.”

“Nu poti sa urasti pe cineva deja infrant.Care, fara tine, nu va mai fi niciodata om intreg.”

“Let those love now who've never loved; let those who've loved, love yet again.”

“She argued. She cried. She took my faltering, my tortured refusals for something far finer than they really were. At the end of the afternoon, before we left the wood, and with a solemnity and sincerity, a complete dedication of herself that I cannot describe to you because such unconditional promising is another extinct mystery...she said, Whatever happens I shall never marry anyone but you.”

“We lay on the ground and kissed. Perhaps you smile. That we only lay on the ground and kissed. You young people can lend your bodies now, play with them, give them as we could not. But remember that you have paid a price: that of a world rich in mystery and delicate emotion. It is not only species of animal that die out. But whole species of feeling. And if you are wise you will never pity the past for what it did not know. But pity yourself for what it did.”

“Half by desipience, half by proclivity, he had come to live in a world where the only significant leisure activities were coupling and consuming. His batrachian lips pursed into a smile, and he dug again into the honey.”

“It's like the day you realize dolls are dolls. I pick up my old self and I see it's silly. A toy I've played with too often. It's a little sad, like an old golliwog at the bottom of the cupboard. Innocent and used-up and proud and silly.”

“That's the trouble with provincial life. Everyone knows everyone and there is no mystery. No romance.”

“3. AlegereaCruta-l pana moare.Chinuie-l pana traieste.”

“- Nicholas, daca vrem sa incercam sa reproducem, fie si numai partial, cate ceva despre legile misterioase care guverneaza existenta, atunci trebuie sa stim sa depasim unele din conventiile pe care omul le-a inventat pentru a tine in frau aceste scopuri fundamentale. Asta nu inseamana ca in vietile noastre obisnuite asemenea conventii trebuie ignorate. Nicidecum. Ele sunt fictiuni necesare. Dar in jocul de-a Dumnezeu, noi am pornit de la premiza ca in realitate totul este fictiune si, totusi, nici o fictiune nu este necesara. Zambi: M-ai dacut sa spun mai mlt decat aveam de gand.”

“- Ti-ai pus vreodata intrebarea de ce evolutia speciilor si-a dat atata osteneala sa ajunga la aceasta infinita diversitate de forme si dimensiuni? Asta ti se pare tot o inutila punere in scena?”

“Un raspuns este intotdeauna o forma a mortii"- Eu cred ca intrebarile sunt o forma a vietii.”

“As dori, de asemenea, sa tii seama de faptul ca astfel de intamplari nu au putut avea loc decat intr-o lume in care barbatul se considera superior femeii. In lumea pe care americanii o numesc a man's world - o lume a barbatilor. Adica o lume guvernata de forta brutala, de aroganta totalmente lipsita de umor, de gustul prestigiului iluzoriu si de prostia funciara. Continua, cu ochii atintiti pe ecran: Barbatilor le place razboiul pentru ca li se pare singurul mod de a fi luati in serios. Pentru ca isi imagineaza ca este singura ocazie cand femeile inceteaza sa-si mai bata joc de ei. Razboiul le permite sa reduca femeile la rand de obiecte. In aceasta consta marea deosebire dintre sexe. Barbatii vad obiebte acolo unde femeile vad relatiile dintre obiecte; relatiile generate de nevoia pe care obiectele o au unul de celalalt, de nevoia de dragoste si de dorinta de armonie. Este o dimensiune in domeniul sentimental care barbatilor le lipseste cu desavarsire. o dimensiune care face ca toate femeile adevarate sa nu vada in razboi decat o odioasa absurditate. Am sa-ti spun eu ce e raboiul. Razboiul e o psihoza creata de incapacitatea noastra de a percepe relatiile. Relatiile noastre cu cei din jur; relatiile cu situatia noastra economica si istorica. Si, mai ales, relatia noastra cu neamul. Cu moartea.”

“Ideeea ca ne plac oamenii este o iluzie pe care trebuie s-o pastram in noi daca vrem sa traim in societate. Dar eu am expulzat-o de mult, cel putin cat traiesc aici. Tu vrei sa fii iubit? Eu ma multumesc pur si simplu sa "fiu", sa exist. Poate intr-o zi ai sa inteegi si tu ce inseamana asta. Si ai sa zambesti. Un zambet aprobator, un zambet sarcastic.”

“Just those three words, said and meant. I love you.They were quite hopeless. He said it as he might have said, I have cancer.His fairy story.”

“I have a strange illusion quite often. I think I've become deaf. I have to make a little noise to prove I'm not. I clear my throat to show myself that everything is normal. It's like the little Japanese girl they found in the ruins of Hiroshima. Everything dead; and she was singing to her doll.”

“He said, one has to learn that painting well - in the academic and technical sense - comes right at the bottom of the list. I mean, you've got that ability. So have thousands.”

“But however good you get at translating personality into line or paint it's no go if your personality isn't worth translating.”

“I am Emma Woodhouse. I feel for her, of her and in her. I have a different sort of snobbism, but I understand her snobbism. Her priggishness. I admire it. I know she does wrong things, she tries to organize other people's lives, she can't see Mr Knightley is a man in a million. She's temporarily silly, yet all the time one knows she's basically intelligent. Creative, determined to set the highest standards. A real human being.”

“It's despair at the lack of (I'm cheating, I didn't say all these things - but I'm going to write what I want to say as well as what I did) feeling, of love, of reason in the world. It's despair that anyone can even contemplate the idea of dropping a bomb or ordering that it should be dropped. It's despair that so few of us care. It's despair that there's so much brutality and callousness in the world.”

“I saw that this cataclysm must be an expiation for some barbarous crime of civilization, some terrible human lie. What the lie was, I had too little knowledge of history or science to know then. I know now it was our believing that we were fulfilling some end, serving some plan - that all would come out well in the end, because there was some great plan over all. Instead of the reality. There is no plan. All is hazard. And the only thing that will preserve us is ourselves.”

“If a person is intelligent, then of course he is either an agnostic or an atheist. Just as he is a physical coward. They are automatic definitions of high intelligence.”

“There comes a time in each life like a point of fulcrum. At that time you must accept yourself. It is not any more what you will become. It is what you are and always will be. You are too young to know this. You are still becoming. Not being.”

“Maurice once said to me- when I had asked him a question rather like yours - he said, "An answer is always a form of death" There was something else in her face then. It was not implaceable; but in some way impermeable. 'I think questions are a form of life”

“Ask me to marry you.""Will you marry me?""No.”

“Nice girl, dear boy.""Oh . . ." I shrugged. "You know.""Most attractive.""Cheaper than central heating.""I'm sure.”

“When she went out she used to wear a lot of eye shadow, which married with the sulky way she sometimes held her mouth to give her a characteristic bruised look; a look that subtly made one want to bruise her more.”