Umberto Eco

“The Templars' mental confusion makes them indecipherable. That's why so many people venerate them.”

“In that face, deformed by hatred of philosophy, I saw for the first time the portrait of the Antichrist, who does not come from the tribe of Judas, as his heralds have it, or from a far country. The Antichrist can be born from piety itself, from excessive love of God or of the truth, as the heretic is born from the saint and the possessed from the seer. Fear prophets, Adso, and those prepared to die for the truth, for as a rule they make many others die with them, often before them, at times instead of them. Jorge did a diabolical thing because he loved his truth so lewdly that he dared anything in order to destroy falsehood.”

“recognize the evidence through which the world speaks to us like a great book...”

“A scoundrel is an evil heliotrope turning always in the direction of the most powerful.”

“Les personnes de peu d'idées sont moins sujettes à l'erreur, elles suivent ce que tout le monde fait et ne dérangent personne, et elles réussissent, s'enrichissent, arrivent à de bonnes positions...”

“Dreams of flying have haunted the collective imagination since time immemorial.”

“The Internet gives us everything and forces us to filter it not by the workings of culture, but with our own brains. This risks creating six billion separate encyclopedias, which would prevent any common understanding whatsoever.”

“The good thing about the studium is the that you learn from your teachers, true, but even more from your fellows, especially those older than you, when they tell you what they have read, and you discover that the world must be full of wondrous things and to know them all - since a lifetime will not be a enough for you to travel through the whole world - you can only read all the books.”

“You live on the surface," Lia told me years later. "You sometimes seem profound, but it's only because you piece a lot of surfaces together to create the impression of depth, solidity. That solidity would collapse if you try to stand it up.”

“Books always speak of other books.”

“Çocukluk yıllarım boyunca, tanıştığım bütün insanların, kaderin bir oyunu olarak, ahmak olduğuna inanmıştım.”

“The belief that time is a linear, directed sequence running from A to B is a modern illusion. In fact, it can also go from B to A, the effect producing the cause.”

“Evet beyefendi, ben maymundan geliyorum. Ama siz ona doğru ilerliyorsunuz!”

“Born blind, he could move in that handsome luminous space (yes, he said luminous) of his church, seeing, as he said, the sun with his skin”

“There are only four questions of importance in life: What is sacred, of what is the spirit made, what is worth living for, and what is worth dying for. The answer to all of them is the same. Only LOVE.”

“I knew the earth was rotating, and I with it, and Saint-Martin-des-Champs and all Paris with me, and that together we were rotating beneath the Pendulum, whose own plane never changed direction, because up there, along the infinite extrapolation of its wire beyond the choir ceiling, up toward the most distant galaxies, lay the Only Fixed Point in the universe, eternally unmoving.”

“...a book is a fragile creature, it suffers the wear of time, it fears rodents, the elements, clumsy hands. If for a hundred and a hundred years everyone had been able freely to handle our codices, the majority of them would no longer exist. So the librarian protects them not only against mankind but also against nature, and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion, the enemy of truth.”

“It is necessary to create constraints, in order to invent freely. In poetry the constraint can be imposed by meter, foot, rhyme, by what has been called the "verse according to the ear."... In fiction, the surrounding world provides the constraint. This has nothing to do with realism... A completely unreal world can be constructed, in which asses fly and princesses are restored to life by a kiss; but that world, purely possible and unrealistic, must exist according to structures defined at the outset (we have to know whether it is a world where a princess can be restored to life only by the kiss of a prince, or also by that of a witch, and whether the princess's kiss transforms only frogs into princes or also, for example, armadillos).”

“How beautiful the world is, and how ugly labyrinths are,' I said, relieved.'How beautiful the world would be if there was a procedure for moving through labyrinths,' my master replied.”

“Jedes Geschöpf der Welt ist uns gleichsam ein Buch und Gemälde und Spiegel. (Every creature of the world is to us at once a book and painting and mirror.)”

“Never affirm, always allude: allusions are made to test the spirit and probe the heart.”

“Translation is the art of failure.”

“Ok now--I don't read "all the time." Remember, that these ratings are over quite a while. I'll try to put in some comments over what I've been reading lately. I like Vince Flynn's spy/thrillers. Also, check out Umberto Eco's one "On Beauty"--not the precise title, but great art/comments. Also, Sophie's World if you like a pretty unusual story with philosophy mixed in.”

“Priešas turi būti atpažįstamas ir baisus, jis turi būti tavo namuose arba prie durų slenksčio. Štai kodėl žydai. Mums juos atsiuntė Dievo apvaizda, tad, dėl Dievo, pasinaudokime jais ir melskimės, kad visada būtų žydų, kurių galėtume bijoti ir nekęsti. Priešo reikia, kad tauta turėtų viltį. Sakoma, patriotizmas - paskutinė niekšų prieglauda: neturintis moralės principų dažniausiai apsisiaučia vėliava, o mišrūnai visada rėkia apie gryną tautos kraują. Tautinė tapatybė - paskutinė varguolių atspirtis. O tapatybė įgyja prasmę tik per neapykantą kitokiam. Reikia puoselėti neapykantą kaip pilietinę aistrą. Priešas yra tautų draugas. Visada reikia turėti, ko nekęsti, kad kaltintume dėl savo vargų.”

“Tačiau prisiklausęs austrų daktaro kalbų apie kolumbietiškų kvaišalų naudą, galiu pasakyti, kad religija yra ir kokainas liaudžiai, nes būtent ji skatino ir tebeskatina karus, kitatikių skerdynes, tai tinka krikščionims, musulmonams bei kitiems stabmeldžiams, ir jei afrikiečiai seniau galabydavo tik vieni kitus, tai misionieriai atvertę juos padarė kolonijų kariūnais, tinkamais mirti pirmose linijose, o užėmus miestą žaginti baltaodes moteris. Žmonės niekada su tokiu atsidavimu ir įkarščiu nepridirba tiek blogo, kiek padaro iš religinių įsitikinimų.”

“Kada policijos informatorius tampa išties patikimas? Kai atskleidžia sąmokslą. Tad reikia surengti sąmokslą, apie kurį galėtų pranešti.”

“And in that moment I experience a revelation.I realize now that it was a painful sense that the world is purposeless, the lazy fruit of a misunderstanding, but in that moment I was able to translate what I felt only as: "God does not exist.”

“At the end of my patient reconstruction, I had before me a kind of lesser library, a symbol of the greater, vanished one: a library made up of fragments, quotations, unfinished sentences, amputated stumps of books.”

“All the same,” I said, “when you read the prints in the snow and the evidence of the branches, you did not yet know Brunellus. In a certain sense those prints spoke of all horses, or at least all horses of that breed. Mustn’t we say, then, that the book of nature speaks to us only of essences, as many distinguished theologians teach?”“Not entirely, dear Adso,” my master replied. “True, that kind of print expressed to me, if you like, the idea of ‘horse,’ the verbum mentis, and would have expressed the same to me wherever I might have found it. But the print in that place and at that hour of the day told me that at least one of all possible horses had passed that way. So I found myself halfway between the perception of the concept ‘horse’ and the knowledge of an individu?al horse. And in any case, what I knew of the universal horse had been given me by those traces, which were singular. I could say I was caught at that moment between the singularity of the traces and my ignorance, which assumed the quite diaphanous form of a univer?sal idea. If you see something from a distance, and you do not understand what it is, you will be content with defining it as a body of some dimension. When you come closer, you will then define it as an animal, even if you do not yet know whether it is a horse or an ass. And finally, when it is still closer, you will be able to say it is a horse even if you do not yet know whether it is Brunellus or Niger. And only when you are at the proper distance will you see that it is Brunellus (or, rather, that horse and not another, however you decide to call it). And that will be full knowledge, the learning of the singular. So an hour ago I could expect all horses, but not because of the vastness of my intellect, but because of the paucity of my deduction. And my intellect’s hunger was sated only when I saw the single horse that the monks were leading by the halter. Only then did I truly know that my previous reasoning, had brought me close to the truth. And so the ideas, which I was using earlier to imagine a horse I had not yet seen, were pure signs, as the hoofprints in the snow were signs of the idea of ‘horse’; and sins and the signs of signs are used only when we are lacing things.”

“I would like to tell about war and friendship among the various parts of the body, the arms that do battle with the feet, and the veins that make love with the arteries, or the bones with the marrow. All the stories I would like to write persecute me. When I am in my chamber, it seems as if they are all around me, like little devils, and while one tugs at my ear, another tweaks my nose, and each says to me, 'Sir, write me, I am beautiful.' Then I realize that an equally beautiful story can be told, inventing an original duel, for example, a man fighting and convincing his adversary to deny God, then running him through so that he dies damned....”

“True,' I said, amazed. Until then I had thought each book spoke of the things, human or devine, that lie outside books. Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves. In the light of this reflection, the library seemed all the more disturbing to me. It was then a place of a long, centuries-old murmuring, an imperceptible dialogue between one parchment and another, a living thing, a receptacle of powers not to be ruled by a human mind, a treasure of secrets emanated by many minds, surviving the death of those who had produced them or had been their conveyors.”

“The Massalians are not dualists but monarchians, and they have dealings with the infernal powers, and in fact some texts call them Borborites, from borboros, filth, because of the unspeakable things they do.""What do they do?""The usual unspeakable things. Men and women hold in the palm of their hand, and raise to heaven, their own ignominy, namely, sperm or menstruum, then eat it, calling it the Body of Christ. And if by chance a woman is made pregnant, at the opportune moment they stick a hand into her womb, pull out the embryo, throw it into a mortar, mix in some honey and pepper, and gobble it up.""How revolting, honey and pepper!" Diotallevi said.”

“What better hiding place for the true Templar than in the crowd of his caricatures?”

“Here's a book about gnomes, undines, salamanders, elves, sylphs, fairies, but it, too, brings in the origins of Aryan civilization. The SS, apparently, are descended from the Seven Dwarfs.”

“Yesterday's rose endures in its name, we hold empty names.”

“There must be a connection between the lust for power and impotentia coeundi. I liked Marx, I was sure that he and his Jenny had made love merrily. You can feel it in the easy pace of his prose and in his humor. On the other hand, I remember remarking one day in the corridors of the university that if you screwed Krupskaya all the time, you'd end up writing a lousy book like Materialism and Empiriocriticism.”

“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.”

“Nothing can shake my belief that this world is the fruit of a dark god whose shadow I extend.”

“History is a blood-drenched enigma and the world an error.”

“There, I said to myself, are the reasons for the silence and darkness that surround the library: it is the preserve of learning but can maintain this learning unsullied only if it prevents its reaching anyone at all, even the monks themselves. Learning is not like a coin, which remains whole even through the most infamous transactions; it is, rather, like a very handsome dress, which is worn out through use and ostentation. Is not a book like that, in fact?”

“By reading narrative, we escape the anxiety that attacks us when we try to say something about the world.”

“Art is a serious matter”

“stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus”

“You’ll come backTo me . . .It’s written in the stars, you see,you’ll come back.You’ll come back,it’s a factthat I am strong because I dobelieve in you.”

“But it’s atheists who say that the world wasn’t made by anyone, and you say you’re not an atheist . . ."I’m not because I can’t bring myself to believe that all these things we see around us—the way trees and fruits grow, and the solar system, and our brains—came about by chance. They’re too well made. And therefore there must have been a creating mind. God.”

“The book is like the wheel - once invented, it cannot be bettered.”

“I was in a maze. No matter which way I turned, it was the wrong way.”

“I was dozing, and the clock woke me. I didn’t hear the first few chimes distinctly, that is to say, I didn’t count them. But as soon as I decided to count I realized that there had already been three, so I was able to count four, five, and so on. I understood that I could say four and then wait for the fifth, because one, two, and three had passed, and I somehow knew that. If the fourth chime had been the first I was conscious of, I would have thought it was six o’clock. I think our lives are like that—you can only anticipate the future if you can call the past to mind. I can’t count the chimes of my life because I don’t know how many came before. On the other hand, I dozed off because the chair had been rocking for a while. And I dozed off in a certain moment because that moment had been preceded by other moments, and because I was relaxing while awaiting the subsequent moment. But if the first moments hadn’t put me in the right frame of mind, if I had begun rocking in any old moment, I wouldn’t have expected what had to come. I would have remained awake. You need memory even to fall asleep. Or no?”

“The light in her eyes was beyond description, yet it did not instill improper thoughts: it inspired a love tempered by awe, purifying the hearts it inflamed.”

“They say that a cat, if it falls from a window andhits its nose, can lose its sense of smell and then, because cats live bytheir ability to smell, it can no longer recognize things. I’m a cat that hitits nose.”