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»Schöner als hier ist’s eigentlich doch nirgends«, sagte ich nachdenklich.
Mein Vater lächelte und sah mich an.
»Es ist deine Heimat, Kind. Und schön ist sie, das ist wahr.«
»Ist deine Heimat schöner, Papa?«
»Nein, aber wo man ein Kind war, da ist alles schön und heilig. Hast du nie Heimweh gehabt, du?«
»Doch, hie und da schon.«

- Hermann Hesse, Schön ist die Jugend

The Godfather: Part II (1974)

The Godfather: Part II (1974)

The Godfather (1972)

The Godfather (1972)

Apr 9
Requiem for a Dream (2000)

Requiem for a Dream (2000)

Apr 9

It would be a thousand pities if women wrote like men, or lived like men, or looked like men, for if two sexes are quite inadequate, considering the vastness and variety of the world, how should we manage with one only? Ought not education to bring out and fortify the differences rather than the similarities? For we have too much likeness as it is, and if an explorer should come back and bring word of other sexes looking through the branches of other trees at other skies, nothing would be of greater service to humanity; and we should have the immense pleasure into the bargain of watching Professor X rush for his measuring-rods to prove himself ‘superior’.

- Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Apr 9

It was strange to think that all the great women of fiction were, until Jane Austen’s day, not only seen by the other sex, but seen only in relation to the other sex. And how small a part of a woman’s life is that; and how little can a man know even of that when he observes it through the black or rosy spectacles which sex puts upon his nose. Hence, perhaps, the peculiar nature of woman in fiction; the astonishing extremes of her beauty and horror; her alternations between heavenly goodness and hellish depravity — for so a lover would see her as his love rose or sank, was prosperous or unhappy. This is not so true of the nineteenth-century novelists, of course. Woman becomes much more various and complicated there.

- Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Apr 9

Literature is strewn with the wreckage of men who have minded beyond reason the opinions of others.

- Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Apr 9

And one gathers from this enormous modern literature of confession and self-analysis that to write a work of genius is almost always a feat of prodigious difficulty. Everything is against the likelihood that it will come from the writer’s mind whole and entire. Generally material circumstances are against it. Dogs will bark; people will interrupt; money must be made; health will break down. Further, accentuating all these difficulties and making them harder to bear is the world’s notorious indifference. It does not ask people to write poems and novels and histories; it does not need them. […] A curse, a cry of agony, rises from those books of analysis and confession. ‘Mighty poets in their misery dead’— that is the burden of their song. if anything comes through in spite of all this, it is a miracle, and probably no book is born entire and uncrippled as it was conceived.

- Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Apr 8
Sciuscià (1946)

Sciuscià (1946)

Apr 8

[…] And, as I realized these drawbacks, by degrees fear and bitterness modified themselves into pity and toleration; and then in a year or two, pity and toleration went, and the greatest release of all came, which is freedom to think of things in themselves. That building, for example, do I like it or not? Is that picture beautiful or not? Is that in my opinion a good book or a bad? Indeed my aunt’s legacy unveiled the sky to me, and substituted for the large and imposing figure of a gentleman, which Milton recommended for my perpetual adoration, a view of the open sky.

- Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

Apr 7

Rapimento

  • Io: Vado al parco.
  • Marco: Attento che ti rapiscono.
  • Io: Ma mi hanno già rapito. Questa non è la mia vera famiglia. Un giorno troverò i miei veri genitori.
Apr 6
Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992)

Apr 6

Non volevo che fosse trasformata, contro la sua volontà e natura, in una di quelle donne tristi, ubbidienti, costrette ad accettare un’intera vita di silenzioso servaggio, sempre timorose di fare, dire, o mostrare la cosa sbagliata. Donne che alcuni in Occidente ammirano, qui in Francia, per esempio, trasformate in eroine per la vita che conducono, esaltate a distanza da coloro che non sopporterebbero di vivere un solo giorno nei loro panni. Donne che soffocano i loro desideri e rinunciano ai loro sogni e tuttavia, e questo è il peggio, quando le si incontra, sorridono e fingono di non avere assolutamente nulla da temere. Come se conducessero una vita invidiabile. Ma se lei guarda con attenzione noterà lo sguardo impotente, la disperazione, cose che smentiscono il loro apparente buon umore. Tutto questo è patetico, Monsieur Boustouler, e non è certo quello che desideravo per mia figlia.

- Khaled Hosseini, E l’eco rispose

Apr 5
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

Apr 3

The boy nodded. He sat looking at the map. The man watched him. He thought he knew what that was about. He’d pored over maps as a child, keeping one finger on the town where he lived. Just as he would look up his family in the phone directory. Themselves among others, everything in its place. Justified in the world. Come on, he said. We should go.

- Cormac McCarthy, The Road