You called ill humor a vice,” he said. “Wouldn’t you say that was exaggerating?”
“Not at all,” I replied. “Anything that does harm to oneself or one’s neighbor deserves to be called a vice. Isn’t it sad enough that we cannot make each other happy? Must we rob one another of the pleasure every heart can sometimes provide for itself? Show me the person who is ill-humored yet good enough to bear it alone, without destroying the happiness around him. Isn’t ill humor actually an inner annoyance with our own unworthiness, a dislike of ourselves, and isn’t it somehow always connected with the envy that is egged on by our own foolish vanity? We see happy people whom we are not making happy, and we cannot bear it.”
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
Tell him, Nico di Angelo, said Cupid, voice sounding a lot like someone Nico knew. Tell him that you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him the real reason you left Camp Half-Blood, and why you are always alone.
The word echoed around Nico’s head in that strangely familiar voice: coward, coward, coward. That’s what he was,
Sanırım bunu hiç kimse okumayacak
His eyes opened. “Name one hero who was happy.”
I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back.
“You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward.
“I can’t.”
“I know. They never let you be famous and happy.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Tell me.” I loved it when he was like this.
“I’m going to be the first.” He took my palm and held it to his. “Swear it.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the reason. Swear it.”
The Anglo-Saxons were writing Old English with a modified Roman alphabet that omitted the letter Q. The Anglo-Saxons didn’t need it. They were happy to write “queen” as cwen and “quick” as cwic . But that changed with the Norman Conquest of England in 1066: Not only did the invaders bring hundreds of Norman French words with QU- spellings (quart, quest, require, etc.), but Norman scribes in England began spelling native English words with a French-style QU-, as well. So cwen became “queen” and cwic became “quick.” Q, or rather QU-, had arrived in English.
His eyes opened. “Name one hero who was happy.”
I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father;Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back.
“You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward.
“I can’t.”
“I know. They never let you be famous and happy.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Tell me.” I loved it when he was like this.
“I’m going to be the first.” He took my palm and held it to his. “Swear it.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the reason. Swear it.”
“I swear it,” I said, lost in the high color of his cheeks, the flame in his eyes.
“I swear it,” he echoed. We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned.
“I feel like I could eat the world raw.”
Ve mutlu olamadılar...
Sayfa 55Kitabı yarım bıraktı
You must not be angry with me for having been so sad yesterday; I was very happy, very content, but in my very best moments I am always for some reason sad. As for my crying, that means nothing. I don’t know myself why I am always crying. I feel ill and irritable; my sensations are due to illness. The pale cloudless sky, the sunset, the evening stillness – all that – I don’t know – but I was somehow in the mood yesterday to take a dreary and miserable view of everything, so that my heart was to fall any did the relief of tears. But why am I writing all this to you? It is hard to make all that clear to one’s own heart and still harder to convey it to another. But you, perhaps, will understand me. Sadness and laughter both at once! How kind you are really. You looked into my eyes yesterday as though to read in them what I was feeling and were delighted with my rapture.
LAW 1: NEVER OUTSHINE THE MASTER
Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite—inspire fear and insecurity. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.
LAW 2:
“I don’t want your money, Cato. I’ve never wanted your money, and I’ll never want it.”
“Right.”
She pressed her lips tightly together before she spoke. “Not all people are obsessed with money, Cato. Not everyone needs overwhelming security like you do. Truly happy people can have nothing and feel perfectly content. Only sad people need a billion dollars to feel secure.”
“I’m worth six billion.”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
“Impresses everyone else.”
Sayfa 154
