392

In a certain Chinese encyclopedia it is written that 'animals are divided into':

(a) belonging to the emperor,

(b) embalmed,

(c) tame,

(d) sucking pigs,

(e) sirens,

(f) fabulous,

(g) stray dogs,

(h) included in the present classification,

(i) frenzied,

(j) innumerable,

(k) drawn with a very fine camelhair brush,

(l) et cetera,

(m) having just broken the water pitcher,

(n) that from a long way off look like flies.

Foucault (Order of Things) from Borges.

391

Style is the answer to everything.
Fresh way to approach a dull or dangerous day.
To do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing
without style.
To do a dangerous thing with style, is what I call art.
Bullfighting can be an art.
Boxing can be an art.
Loving can be an art.
Opening a can of sardines can be an art.
Not many have style.
Not many can keep style.
I have seen dogs with more style than men.
Although not many dogs have style.
Cats have it with abundance.

When Hemingway put his brains to the wall with a shotgun, that was style.
For sometimes people give you style.
Joan of Arc had style.
John the Baptist.
Jesus.
Socrates.
Caesar.
Garcia Lorca.
I have met men in jail with style.
I have met more men in jail with style than men out of jail.
Style is a difference, a way of doing, a way of being done.
Six herons standing quietly in a pool of water, or you, walking
out of the bathroom without seeing me.

Bukowski

390

clipped from www.evreninharitasi.com seni arıyor gibi yağıyor bütün yağmur...

389

“Kundera goes on and uses Kafka’s The Castle as an example how translators smudges the original ideas. Kafka’s vocabulary is relatively restricted and Kafka is using simplest, the most elementary verbs: go, have, be, do, must, can. Translators, however, “correct” Kafka and enrich his vocabulary by replacing “have” for “never ceased to experience”, “be” for “advance”, “thrust”, or “go a long way”, and “go” for “walk”.”
P. Bilak, notes on translation in Kundera's work (1999)

388

Like a grandiose despot, the East in its power and splendor casts its inhabitants to the ground and, before man has learned to walk, he is forced to kneel, before he has learned to speak, he is forced to pray; before his heart has attained an equipoise it is forced to bow, before his spirit is strong enough to bear flowers and fruit, Fate and Nature drains all his strength through horrid heat. The Egyptian is devoted before he is a whole, hence he knows nothing of the whole, nothing of Beauty, and what he calls the highest is a veiled power, an awesome enigma; the dumb, dark Isis is his first and last, an empty infinity, and out of that nothing reasonable has ever come. Even the most sublime nothingness gives birth to nothingness...
Hölderlin, Hyperion.

387

386

...They say it is a dangerous experiment to include dreams (actual dreams or otherwise) in the fiction you write. Only a handful of writers –and I'm talking about the most talented– are able to pull off the kind of irrational synthesis you find in dreams...
(murakami, sputnik sweetheart)