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The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting.
jangan cuma ingat jasa para pahlawan, tapi ingat juga kezaliman para perusak sistem.
In the political jargon of those days, the word “intellectual” was an insult. It indicated someone who did not understand life and was cut off from the people.
Again the world’s space was merely an obstacle slowing down his activity.
Someone who writes books is either everything (a unique universe in himself and to all others) or nothing. And because it will never be given to anyone to be everything, all of us who write books are nothing. We are unrecognized, jealous, embittered, and we wish the others dead.
“Laughter, on the other hand,” Petrarch went on, “is an explosion that tears us away from the world and throws us back into our own cold solitude. Joking is a barrier between man and the world. Joking is the enemy of love and poetry. That’s why I tell you yet again, and want you to keep in mind: Boccaccio doesn’t understand love. Love can never be laughable. Love has nothing in common with laughter.”
Whoever wishes to remember must not stay in one place, waiting for the memories to come of their own accord! Memories are scattered all over the immense world, and it takes voyaging to find them and make them leave their refuge!
she had fallen far back to a time when her husband did not exist, when he was neither in memory nor in desire, and thus when there was neither weight nor remorse.
The privilege of love was not only a paradise, it was also a hell. Life in love was constant tension, fear, agitation.
She never again will enter their world, but she is careful not to find herself outside it either. She tries to stay right on the border.
Yes, she did want to live, life gave her great joy, but she also knew that her “I want to live” was spun from the threads of a spiderweb.
