"Un cititor trăieşte o mie de vieţi înainte de a muri. Omul care nu citeşte trăieşte doar o singură viaţă." – George R.R. Martin

Quote of the Day – 23 September 2017: Galilee's Defence – Octavian Paler

 – Only my subconscious is crawling. I sleep agitaty and dream of all sorts of strange things, muddy seas, dogs with human eyes, which, if I heard from another, I would count them as aberrations. One night, my room had filled with broken clepsids from which the sand flowed. And as time went on, I could feel the sand growing around me. I panicked and wanted to get out, but, out, the wind was screaming like a crazy that she lost her cubs. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Ana and tried to get close, convinced that, like, I would be safe." Don't touch me," she whispered to me. Then he gave me an explanation, barely clear, which puzzled me: "If you touch my hair now or shoulders I will dissipate and have to go ages before I reborn from the desert. Stay where you are and try to stay quiet, avoiding telling me my name or calling me." Then he kept quiet, as if he had bothered talking. I stood still until Ana came back and opened the door to leave. That's when I got panicked again, and I went through the sand for it. When I got to the wall at the door, I found it was cold, almost frozen. In addition, he spread a sweet, nauseating smell, which I knew from somewhere. Without being able to control myself, I called her, "Ana." She stopped and looked at me reprimanded, making it clear that the recklessness of naming her could earlier be fatal. I whispered to him: "If all become dead time, snakes are sandy. I can't bite. Every time I feel them on my body, all I have to do is shake the sand…" I had to wait for the wind to calm down, to hear the answer: "Snakes are true, Galilei."

 – Let's go back to the moment you abstained.

– Abjuring was a formality. I was hoping everyone would understand that. To escape with my life, I retracted the form of a truth that, anyway, no one can alter. Whether i was retracting or not, the earth kept spinning. With me, with the inquisitions, with their jills, with those waiting to see if it was appropriate to take wood to the square, to lift up a pyre, and with those who were preparing to attend the show. He'd spin around without stopping for a moment.

– Eppur and muove, like you muttered on the way out.

– That's right, i'm not going I was surprised to discover, after that, that I was being reproached for a formality. Only my lips retracted. Deep down, I've never disapproved of what I believe.

– Do you think the inquisitions didn't know it was a formality? Do you think them're stupid enough not to realize that you were sticking to your opinions? They were sure of it but not necessarily your ideas interested them, but to play a comedy, to organize a "formality", as you say, in which, solemnly and publicly, you would repudite your opinions so that, thus, no one would be tempted to follow you. That's what they needed. Not to educate you, but to humiliate you.

– I'm stuck with what I was thinking.

– Galilee, any inquisition is intended to create two realities. One in plain sight. Another hidden. Controlling the reality in plain sight, the Inquisition also controls the hidden one. That way, people get used to it that it doesn't matter what you think. What matters is what you say. And everyone says what they are asked to say, what he feels he has to say, if he keeps defending their skin. At first it makes it out of his way, then out of habit. And after that, many do it out of interest. Result? You know him. You've seen him. Slowly, slowly, everyone understands that everyone around them lies, pretends, makes sure they don't risk it. And he wonders: why would I do it differently? The very idea of being honest in a world where only hypocrisy is rewarded seems crazy, stupid.

– Isn't it normal for people to defend themselves? Not everyone is born with the vocation of martyrs.

– That's right, it's not like that. It accepts, however, that the omnipotence of the Inquisition is not solely based on fear. It is also based on the zeal of frightened to look undangerous. Frightened, we are quick to assure the inquisitions that we think about what they ask us to do, there is no reason to be suspected, called to interrogations. That your argument that abjuring was a formality represents, forgive me, a shaky excuse. The inquisition didn't want to change your ideas. It was enough for everyone to prove that you don't dare say what you think. At that moment many people probably said to each other that they couldn't hope for anything,"If Galilee didn't dare, with clear evidence that the earth is spinning, how are we going to do it?" So your abjuring put a lot of mouths a shield. And there's something else, Galilee.

– Take a closer look at the summer of his perfumes. She's convincing without pathos.

– All right, let's go. But I'm going to have to carry on my logic one day. Of course, if you don't run away from what you don't like to hear.

– I'm not running. Proof we're talking. But I wouldn't want to give up taking my "possible" share of what surrounds us, no matter how old I am. The grass is refreshed and warm, the gardens are loading with creeps and – see? – The olive trees are going wild into the evening. I know nothing more beautiful than the way light washes these miraculous cymtos. The emotion I feel in front of them doesn't compel me to anything.

– She's not enough, though, for happiness, Galilee.

– That's enough for me. Now, at least. It's like all the dust I ransacked with my sandals is full of seeds. By squandering it, the wind only extends the glory of summer Nothing is more wrong in such a sight as carelessness, don't you think? The rest of the words seem useless to me.

– The rains of autumn will make all this a memory.

– After all, they all become memories. Why wouldn't I choose what I have now?

– Your happiness is a happiness without men, Galilei.

– You're wrong…

– Last night someone in Nero's Praetorian guard kept telling me, "It's therefore so difficult to die?", and I was trying to convince him that this is a verse from Vergiliu that, when Nero was deposed, an attendant he had asked to flee with him recited him. answer. "I know, he was right, but that's how it has to happen. You can no longer unravel what the gods have tied in some way." I then thought until the morning that the only human thing about Nero was the end; the fact that he did not have the courage to swallow the poison he had procured; that he changed his mind after thinking of jumping into the Tiber; that he hesitated to stick his dagger in his chest after trying his tip; it was only when he heard the hooves of horses at the gate that he opened his carotid hand with his trembling hand, sobbing, "Ah, what artist dies in me!" … Actually, that's what the summers taught me. That fear of death, happiness and love are normal things. And it's enough to see everything normally, without the deformities he imposed on the world the Inquisition, to pity those incapable of such fear.

– Do you think that's enough against what's killing us? You should know that's not enough. You were there and you were forced to abstain something you never doubted.

– There are things that happened a long time ago.

– But they're after you. And your history no longer belongs to you.

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