Karen Blixen - Wikiquote. Karen von Blixen- Finecke (1. April. 18. 85 . This appears as part of a statement in a 1. I am not a novelist, really not even a writer; I am a storyteller. One of my friends said about me that I think all sorrows can be borne if you put them into a story or tell a story about them, and perhaps this is not entirely untrue.
To me, the explanation of life seems to be its melody, its pattern. And I feel in life such an infinite, truly inconceivable fantasy. Sweat, or tears, or the salt sea.! The fashion, or style, of renunciation really meant something then. It was inspired by the war, or it ran parallel to the war, and could not have been conceived without the war..
It stood for the will to sacrifice . It was arrogant and elegantly cynical . The superfluous here threw away the necessary quite simply. In its inner essence it was the disdain of death. In nature there is no evil, only an abundance of horror: the plagues and the blights and the ants and the maggots. The best of my nature reveals itself in play, and play is sacred.
Portugal (1983: Doomsday) 40,093 pages on this wiki. We shall never forget our brothers and sisters who fell in the senseless destruction on 26.
Testament (1983) Quotes on IMDb. No one is touching him! Father Hollis Mann.whosoever believeth in me shall never die.
On Modern Marriage and Other Observations (1. Of all the idiots I have met in my life, and the Lord knows that they have not been few or little, I think that I have been the biggest.
It is not that she is pretty, although she is of course almost incredibly pretty, but she radiates, at the same time, unbounded vitality and a kind of unbelievable innocence. I have met the same in a lion- cub, which my native servants in Africa brought me. I would not keep her, since I felt that it would in some way be wrong..
I shall never forget the almost overpowering feeling of unconquerable strength and sweetness which she conveyed. I had all the wild nature of Africa amicably gazing at me with mighty playfulness. As quoted in Fragments, by Stanley Buchthal and Bernard Comment (2. Seven Gothic Tales (1. Sweat, or tears, or the salt sea.
But what if the world had looked back at him, to see whether he was good or not? This has seemed to me a charming image of the women of my time. There they were, keeping the world in order .
- Ronald Reagan (6 December 1983). We will never forget them. If necessary, we shall do it again.
- Enhance your IMDb Page. Title: Ya tebya nikogda ne zabudu (1983) 7.4 /10. Want to share IMDb's rating on your own site?
- Calling Races: A Time I Shall Never Forget. I was at Foxboro Raceway in Foxboro, MA (now part of a Gillette Stadium parking lot).
We drink at that age from thirst, or to get drunk; it is only later in life that we occupy ourselves with the individuality of our wine. A young man in love is essentially enraptured by the forces within himself. Let physicians and confectioners and servants in the great houses be judged by what they have done, and even by what they have meant to do; the great people themselves are judged by what they are.
I have been told that lions, trapped and shut up in cages, grieve from shame more than from hunger. The Equator runs across these highlands, a hundred miles to the North, and the farm lay at an altitude of over six thousand feet. In the day- time you felt that you had got high up, near to the sun, but the early mornings and evenings were limpid and restful, and the nights were cold. The views were immensely wide . It was, in giant size, the border of a very old, infinitely precious Persian carpet in the dyes of green, yellow and black- brown. The true aristocracy and the true proletariat of the world are both in understanding with tragedy.
To them it is the fundamental principle of God, and the key, the minor key, to existence. They differ in this way from the bourgeoisie of all classes, who deny tragedy, who will not tolerate it, and to whom the word tragedy means in itself unpleasantness. People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not, a placid ecstasy, and ease of heart, that are like honey on the tongue. They also know that the real glory of dreams lies in their atmosphere of unlimited freedom. It is not the freedom of the dictator, who enforces his own will on the world, but the freedom of the artist, who has no will, who is free of will. The pleasure of the true dreamer does not lie in the substance of the dream, but in this: that there things happen without any interference from his side, and altogether outside his control. Great landscapes create themselves, long splendid views, rich and delicate colours, roads, houses, which he has never seen or heard of..
I have sometimes come upon the Iguana, the big lizard, as they were sunning themselves upon a flat stone in a river- bed. They are not pretty in shape, but nothing can be imagined more beautiful than their colouring.
They shine like a heap of precious stones or like a pane cut out of an old church window. When, as you approach, they swish away, there is a flash of azure, green and purple over the stones, the color seems to be standing behind them in the air, like a comet's luminous tail. Once I shot an Iguana. I thought that I should be able to make some pretty things from his skin. A strange thing happened then, that I have never afterwards forgotten. As I went up to him, where he was lying dead upon his stone, and actually while I was walking the few steps, he faded and grew pale, all colour died out of him as in one long sigh, and by the time that I touched him he was grey and dull like a lump of concrete.
It was the live impetuous blood pulsating within the animal, which had radiated out all that glow and splendor. Now that the flame was put out, and the soul had flown, the Iguana was as dead as a sandbag. Often since I have, in some sort, shot an Iguana, and have remembered that one in the reserve.
Up at Meru I saw a young Native girl with a bracelet on, a leather strap two inches wide, and all embroidered over with very small turquoise- coloured beads which varied little in colour and played in green, light blue and ultra- marine. It was an extraordinarily live thing; it seemed to draw breath on her arm, so that I wanted it for myself, and made Farah buy it from her. No sooner had it come upon my arm that it gave up the ghost. It was nothing now, a small, cheap, purchased article of finery. It had been the play of colors, the duet between the turquoise and the .
So sad did it seem that I remembered the saying of the hero in a book that I had read as a child: . To settlers I give this advice: .
To them it is salvation and beatification. For God does not create a longing or a hope without having a fulfilling reality ready for them. But our longing is our pledge, and blessed are the homesick, for they shall come home. None of the guests later on had any clear remembrance of it.
They only knew that the rooms had been filled with a heavenly light, as if a number of small halos had blended into one glorious radiance. Taciturn old people received the gift of tongues; ears that for years had been almost deaf were opened to it. Time itself had merged into eternity.
Long after midnight the windows of the house shone like gold, and golden song flowed out into the winter air. When later in life they thought of this evening it never occurred to any of them that they might have been exalted by their own merit. They realized that the infinite grace of which General Loewenhielm had spoken had been allotted to them, and they did not even wonder at the fact, for it had been but the fulfillment of an ever- present hope. The vain illusions of this earth had dissolved before their eyes like smoke, and they had seen the universe as it really is. They had been given one hour of the millennium. When soon I sail from here, I may again run into such a storm as the one in Kvasefjord.
But this time I shall clearly understand that it is not a play in the theatre, but it is death. Hear then: Where the storyteller is loyal, eternally and unswervingly loyal to the story, there, in the end, silence will speak. Where the story has been betrayed, silence is but emptiness. But we, the faithful, when we have spoken our last word, will hear the voice of silence. Whether a small snotty lass understands it or not.
Greater writers than these also did not receive the prize. I would have been happy .