В ужасе смерти и потери ...

Э.К



- А обычно, - спросил я, - вы странствуете всегда один?

Он попытался улыбнуться. Это далось ему нелегко, у него не было навыка.

- Да, - подтвердил он, - я одинокий странник. Одинокий странник. Ушел один. Он и квартировал один. И жил один. У него было на двадцать пять учеников больше, чем нужно.





Два года спустя я стоял среди этой необозримой пустыни и не понимал, где я. Между кирпичной крошкой и обломками валялась табличка с названием

улицы. "Прагерштрассе", - с трудом разобрал я. Значит, я на Прагерштрассе? На всемирно известной Прагерштрассе? На роскошнейшей улице моего детства? На

улице с самыми красочными витринами? Самой притягательной для детворы улице

перед рождеством? Я стоял среди тянувшейся на километры в длину и ширину пустоты. В степи битого кирпича. В изначальном Ничто.

funny"Зуббатка" - Врач-уролог женского пола. (via lapusya_kat)



Порно, которое мы потеряли



Калигула/Ирония судьбы

99 Hermione Granger Portrait Recs , Portraits of Draco ,Imperius-Rosmerta,

Remus, at Lily's wedding ,

Letter to a dead man -nassima

Он пришел к нам след в след за Хемингуэем - мифом о мужественности жизни-как-спорта - читать дальшеи явил образ совсем другого мужества: пилота Пиркса и ученого Криса Кельвина, Рогана из "Непобедимого" и Брэгга из "Возвращения со звезд" - мужества готовности к действию даже там, где оно казалось бы заведомо обречено на поражение. И не для утешения - себя и собой - а потому всего лишь, что, угодив в передрягу по имени Вселенная (никак не меньше) человек обречен не на выбор между потерями и выигрышами, поражениями и победами - а на действие вопреки всему противостоящему....

Возможно Лем оказался единственным из писателей ХХ века избежавшим истеричной экзальтации экзистенциализма - потому что создал не Героя перед зеркалом, а человека бредущего сквозь Вселенную. http://community.livejournal.com/ru...574.html#cutid1

The Abolition of Man", by C.S. Lewis

We have been trying, like Lear, to have it both ways. To lay down our human prerogative and yet at the same time to retain it. It is impossible. Either we are rational spirit obliged for ever to obey the absolute values of the Tao, or else we are mere nature to be kneaded and cut into new shapes for the pleasures of masters who must, by hypothesis, have no motive but their own `natural' impulses.()literaryquotes

Nine Shades of White



“White is usually expressed by albus. The following items 1-9 attempt to give more precision.”

From Botanical Latin by William T. Stearn

funnyПро ЕТО

Перевод с матерного

Harry Potter and the Planetarium

http://lillithium.azile.net/frame.htmlhttp://www.misplaced.co.uk/uglybusiness/other.phpleelastarsky/http://leelastarsky.livejournal.com/145016.html#cutid1

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v...ngeon800com.jpg

http://www.maythemusebewithyou.com/...nehogsmeade.htm

"What ways?"



......

"I said, what ways?"



....... "What ways of Dwarves are so mysterious to you?"


Legolas fell back. "That again? It was. . . my question was ill-timed. Leave it. Like a hound with a bone, you are."



"Or a Dwarf with a notion. Well? We have all the time you need now. Ask away. What of our ways would you know more of?"



It was Legolas' turn to sigh. Gimli watched him fold his hands on his chest carefully. "What I meant was. . . love. I know not the ways of Dwarves when it comes to love."



"Oh." If Gimli was startled, he did not show it. He waggled a brow in his friend's direction. .........

"Oh, Elbereth," Legolas muttered, rolling over. "I said, leave it."



Gimli was silent, baffled at the re-emergence of Legolas's strange prickliness. He smoked for a while, watching the stars, thinking. The fire sparked and flamed as the logs crumbled to soft redness, and still Gimli smoked and thought.



"The ways of Dwarves in love," be began at last, as though reading from a lore-book. Legolas was still. "The ways of Dwarves in love," he repeated, "are hard to discover, even to a Dwarf. We have no songs that speak of love, as do you, no high tales from olden days of forbidden loves and doomed lovers. These would make no sense to my people. Why love where you cannot hope to be loved in return? Or where there is only death and destruction at the end of the path? We are a practical folk, above all. Love is for the begetting of children, for the honour of family and home. Love that does not bend to the will of the lover, that cannot be uprooted -- what sense would we find in that?"



Gimli refilled his pipe and held his flint to it, sucking sharp smoke. Legolas watched him.



"So," he resumed. "Do I have it right? That is how Elves see us, is it not? Hard, stern, unlovely and unloving?"



"Not all Elves," Legolas said softly.



"Ay. That I know. But that is what you thought before, yes?"



"Yes. I admit it. But what thought you of the ways of Elves?"



Another long drag, and a wreath of smoke. "Treacherous. Perfidious. Fair-seeming, and ill-meaning. Proud. Contemptuous. Unyielding. Arrogant. Meddlesome. Hungry for rule. Un-"



"All right!"



Gimli caught the flash of Legolas' grin. "And now?" asked the Elf.



"Oh. Well, now, of course, I see things quite differently. I no longer think Elves treacherous."

----------------------

He neatly ducked the clod of earth Legolas shied at his head, and chuckled. Again and again he replayed the words of the afternoon in his head, weighing each one, pushing aside his own irritation to find the true meaning. It was like shaping a gemstone. Shaping could not be done in anger or haste, with one's own emotions clouding the tap of the hammer. You must let the stone show you what it wanted to be, and you must follow where it meandered, and not where you willed it to go. Tap, tap, tap and wait, was the rhythm of it. Young and inexperienced craftsmen, who knew not the ways of stone or diamonds, were puzzled by the rhythm, and did not understand what the waiting was for. Their elders knew it was for listening.