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Cytat
Do celu tam się wysiada. Lec Stanisław Jerzy (pierw. de Tusch-Letz, 1909-1966)
A bogowie grają w kości i nie pytają wcale czy chcesz przyłączyć się do gry (. . . ) Bogowie kpią sobie z twojego poukładanego życia (. . . ) nie przejmują się zbytnio ani naszymi planami na przyszłość ani oczekiwaniami. Gdzieś we wszechświecie rzucają kości i przypadkiem wypada twoja kolej. I odtąd zwyciężyć lub przegrać - to tylko kwestia szczęścia. Borys Pasternak
Idąc po kurzych jajach nie podskakuj. Przysłowie szkockie
I Herkules nie poradzi przeciwko wielu.
Dialog półinteligentów równa się monologowi ćwierćinteligenta. Stanisław Jerzy Lec (pierw. de Tusch - Letz, 1909-1966)
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. Thatwas before the Turks invaded the Holy Land, and defeatedthe Christian king.I am a Christian Arab.I was born in28Bethlehem, and brought up in a monastery.I was neveran Infidel.Then why are you so impious? Why do you favourheretics? Why do you have such strange ideas? Mind you, he adds, with another sly, taunting grin, one of the finest men I ve ever known was an Infidel.Infact he was the commander of the Infidel forces that seizedJerusalem.His name was Saladin.Saladin! Lord Jesus protect us. Saladin was a noble man.A chivalrous man.Mostworthy of respect. (What a monster he is.Just look at the wayhe s laughing at me, secretly, behind that solemn expression.I can see it in his eyes.I can hear it in his voice.) You know,Isidore, he says, I realise that when you re brought up in acloister, things look very simple.But the world isn t as clear as the writing in a book.It s not plain black on plain white.It s a lot more complicated.So you say. However, we can t talk about that now. He lifts hishead to look at the castle walls: they re looming in front ofus, dark against the darkening sky.The battlements are saw-toothed, like the horns of an antelope; the towers seem tospring up like trees from a sheer face of solid rock. We dbetter save our philosophical discussions until after we vetalked to Dame Cavears, he says. Otherwise I won t havethe breath left to deal with her.You mean we re going into the castle, now? We re reallygoing in? O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good: at lastI m going to see the inside of a genuine castle.Will there betroubadours, I wonder? Will there be dancing and music andgolden hangings on the walls? Will they serve marvellous29delicacies, like peacocks, and sugar, and apples of paradise?Are we actually going to sleep there? One more climb, the Archdeacon says, pointing atthe ramp leading up to the gateway. One more climb, andwe can all relax. He drops my reins, and takes the lead: hishorse begins to ascend, wearily, carefully, stumbling onthe uneven surface.I m glad we didn t arrive any later.It salready getting a bit dim imagine trying to find your wayup here in the dark! Someone hails us from above, and theArchdeacon shouts a reply. Benedicite! I come in peace! he bellows.There arethree people hovering near the gates of the fortress: threemen in steel hats.One of them is leaning on a spear; theother two are eating nuts, and laughing.They stop laughingwhen they see us. It s a priest, says one. It s the priest from Carcassonne, says another. Yes, that s right. The Archdeacon addresses them in afriendly fashion, as if they re his equals. It s me again.I vecome to see your mistress. What for? The one with the spear pushes his helmetback from his forehead.He s as fat as a heifer at grass, andhis haircut surpasseth all understanding. We ve already gota priest here. Yes, I realise that, the Archdeacon replies. But whatcan you do about the fetters of love, my friends? I just can ttear myself away from your enchanting mistress.The three men burst out laughing.They howl.Theyshriek.They slap their legs and hold their sides.I don t understand.What s so funny? Oh my friends, the Archdeacon chides, do you hold30such little hope for my suit? Go on, the fat one splutters. In you go. On the wings of love, most fair. With a boot up your backside, more like!What brainless talk is this? Why should an Archdeaconstoop to such vulgar badinage? He jerks his head at me, andthe sound of laughter soon fades as we pass through thethick walls, emerging onto an open stretch of gravel witha great stone keep at one end.God be praised! What a workis this! You have to watch how you conduct yourself aroundFanjeaux. The Archdeacon swings a leg over his saddle,and drops lightly to the ground. They re quite capable ofrefusing entry, if you put on airs.Come on, Isidore, downyou get. Down.I have to get down.But I seem to have lost thestirrup. Here, take my hand, he says. I ll hold the horse.Justbring your other foot that s it
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