";s:4:"text";s:5152:" “It seems that what I really want is a drug that will increase my consciousness of others, not myself.” Don't forget to confirm subscription in your email.Jerzy Kosinski — The cunning priests had invented Him so they could trick stupid, superstitious people.” “It mattered little if one was mute; people did not understand one another anyway. In ordinary life, for example, one saw many people without really knowing them, while in books one even knew what people were thinking and planning.” In a world of men with harrowed faces, with smashed eyes, bloody, bruised and disfigured limbs, among the fetid, broken human bodies, of which I had already seen so many, he seemed an example of neat perfection that could not be sullied: the smooth, polished skin of his face, the bright golden hair showing under his peaked cap, his pure metal eyes. The world seemed to be pretty much the same everywhere, and even though people differed from one another, just as animals and trees did, one should know fairly well what they looked like after seeing them for years.
“Wouldn't it be easier to change people's eyes and hair than to build big furnaces and then catch Jews and Gypsies to burn them?” “The peasants watched the trains with curiosity, listening intently to the strange humming sound of the human throng, neither groan, cry, nor song. It made yet another attempt to flutter up from the sticky earth, but its strength was gone.” “I wondered whether the loss of one's sight would deprive a person also of the memory of everything that he had seen before. born on June 18, 1933, “At times, feeling the wind on my brow, I went numb with horror. Welcome back. In London, the weather would affect me negatively.
It was still alive, opening its beak and vainly trying to move its wings. if not, if only the eyeless could still see through their memory, it would not be too bad. “I pulled myself out of bed and walked to the table. The granite sound of his language was ideally suited to order the death of inferior, forlorn creatures.
“I learned that the order of the world had nothing to do with God, and that God had nothing to do with the world.
I suspect that whenever I articulate my thoughts or translate my impulses into words, I am betraying the real thoughts and impulses which remain hidden.”
Its eyes had been pecked out, and fresh blood streamed over its painted feathers. As soon as it joined the flock a desperate battle began. Was such a destitute, cruel world worth ruling?”
Thank you! Going around under an umbrella interferes with one's looking up at the sky. “Sometimes we found photographs of beautiful young girls, or handsome young men. I lifted up the receiver and heard a man's voice. When a flock of ravens appeared over our hut, Lekh freed the painted bird. I had lived only seven years, but I remembered a lot of things. In the world into which Gavrila was initiating me, human aspirations and expectations were entangled with each other like the roots and branches of great trees in a thick forest, each tree struggling for more moisture from the soil and more sunshine from the sky.” “Furthermore, the world of books, like meat in cans, was somehow richer and more flavorful than the everyday variety.
“I felt lost in this maze. - from the foreword to the 1976 … “There was no God, no Holy Trinity, no devils, ghosts, or ghouls rising from graves; there was no Death flying everywhere in search of new sinners to snare.
“One day he trapped a large raven, whose wings he painted red, the breast green, and the tail blue. In some, one could see children playing in a park, babies crying, or newlyweds kissing. The changeling was attacked from all sides. I was stung by a twinge of envy I had never experienced before, and I admired the glittering death's-head and crossbones that embellished his tall cap. In my photographs it is apparent that there was no posing at the moment I released the shutter. The reason for this was quite simple. … There were pictures of old men, who looked like apostles, and old ladies with faded smiles.
Jerzy Kosiński, born Józef Lewinkopf, was an award-winning Polish-American novelist and two-time President of the American Chapter of P.E.N., who wrote primarily in English. If so, the man would no longer be able to see even in his dreams. The ravens ran amuck in the skies, and suddenly the painted raven plummeted to the freshly-plowed soil. “There's a place beyond words where experience first occurs to which I always want to return.
when I closed my eyes, many details cam back still more vividly. Mapplethorpe presented the body as a sexual object, separating it from the humanity of the person. The train went by, and as it pulled away one could still see against the dark background of the forest disembodied human arms waving tirelessly from the windows.” Novelist