Sacred and Terrible Smell
What was that sacred and terrible, elusive smell in the air this time? My name is Ambrosius Saint-Miro, the locals call me “Ambrosius Pyhä-Mirä” and in Graad they call me “Svjata-Mira”. “Diduska?” they ask, their eyes wide with affection, but I answer them: “No. I am not your diduska.” I am Ambrosius Santa-Mira from Mesque, Ambrosio Hagiamira, I
Sayfa 60 - Unofficial English TranslationKitabı okudu
“When Leonardo was painting The Last Supper (fig. 74), spectators would visit and sit quietly just so they could watch him work. The creation of art, like the discussion of science, had become at times a public event. According to the account of a priest, Leonardo would “come here in the early hours of the morning and mount the scaffolding,” and
Hey, Mr Langford,' a muscle-bound man said. Is it true that the Mona Lisa is a picture of Da Vinci in drag?
I heard that was true.'
'It's quite possible,' Langdon said. 'Da Vinci was a prankster, and computerized analysis of the Mona Lisa and Da Vinci's self-portraits confirm some startling points of congruency
Sayfa 168 - Corgi
The earliest fixed use of j was in Spain. Here, soon after printing’s arrival in the 1470s, we find the shape j for the consonant and the shape i for the vowel, in all lowercase uses in the Spanish language. Thus, with no change of pronunciation, the holy name Iesus (“Hay-soos” in Spanish) came to be spelled as Jesus. The word iusticia (hoos-tee-see-a) became justicia. Modern Spanish still uses J to mean the sound “h,” Spanish H being silent.
“It’s your baby,” she said, coldly, “and ain’t no way in the world to get around that. And it ain’t been so very long ago, right here in this very room, when looked to me like a life of sin was all you was ready for.”
“Yes’” he answered, rising, and turning away, “Satan tempted me and I fell. I ain’t the first man been made to fall on account of a wicked woman.”
“You be careful,” said Esther, “how you talk to me. I ain’t the first girl’s been ruined by a holy man, neither.”
A Little Boy Lost/Küçük Bir Oğlan Kayboldu
Nought loves another as itself
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it possible to Thought
A greater than itself to know:
And Father, how can I love you,
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.
The Priest sat by and heard the child,
In trembling zeal he siez’d his hair:
He led him by
Sayfa 106
The void of immortality-substance that would be left by the absolute abandonment of the leader is evidently too painful to support, especially if the leader has possessed striking mana or has summed up in himself some great heroic project that carried the people on. One can’t help musing about how one of the most advanced scientific societies of the 20th century resorted to improvements on ancient Egyptian mummification techniques to embalm the leader of their revolution. It seems as though the Russians could not let go of Lenin even in death and so have entombed him as a permanent immortality-symbol. Here is a supposedly “secular” society that holds pilgrimages to a tomb and that buries heroic figures in the “sacred wall” of the Kremlin, a “hallowed” place. No matter how many churches are closed or how humanistic a leader or a movement may claim to be, there will never be anything wholly secular about human fear. Man’s terror is always “holy terror”—which is a strikingly apt popular phrase. Terror always refers to the ultimates of life and death.
