what's source material? armstrong's ass.. lol.
MUSTAFA KEMAL was twenty, wiry in build, with a tough constitution and unlimited vitality.
He had no experience of life. Salonika had been a mean little port; Lazaran a country village; Monastir a dull provincial town. He had none of his mother's deep beliefs or principles to keep him steady.
At once he plunged wildly into the unclean life of the great metropolis of Constantinople. Night after night he gambled and drank in the cafes and restaurants. With women he was not fastidious. A figure, a face in profile, a laugh, could set him on fire and reaching out to get the woman, whatever she was.
Sometimes it would be with the Greek and Armenian harlots in the bawdy-houses in the garbage-stinking streets by Galata Bridge, where came the pimps and the homosexualists to cater for all the vices; then for a week or two a Levantine lady in her house in Pangaldi; or some Turkish girl who came veiled and by back-ways in fear of the police to some maison de rendez-vous in Pera or Stambul.
He fell in love with none of them. He was never sentimental or romantic. Without a pang of conscience he passed rapidly from one to the next. He satisfied his appetite and was gone.
He was completely Oriental in his mentality: women had no place in his life except to satisfy his sex. He plunged deep down into the lecherous life of the city. Suddenly he reacted from all this rioting and concentrated on his work with the same energy.
“What Tyler says about the crap and the slaves of history, that's how I felt. I wanted to destroy something beautiful I'd never have. Burn the Amazon rain forests. Pump chlorofluorocarbons straight up to gobble the ozone. Open the dump valves on supertankers and uncap offshore oil wells. I wanted to kill all the fish I couldn't afford to eat, and smother the French beaches I'd never see.
I wanted the whole world to hit bottom."
Reklam
“Emmie?” My childhood nickname. “Honey, I made you some chicken noodle soup. It always made you feel better before.”
Before. Not now. And never again. How exactly did one explain an inexplicable phobic reaction to chicken soup?
“I'm sorry, I can't eat this.”
I have never yet known what it was to separate esteem and love.
Cling to your soul with love, fear, contempt, and hate, but and don’t let her out of your sight. She is a hellish-divine treasure to be kept behind walls of iron and in the deepest vault. She always wants to get out and scatter glittering beauty. Beware, because you have already been betrayed! You’ll never find a more disloyal, more cunning and heinous woman, never a rougher and more infamous man than your soul—you will never see anyone more beautiful, nobler, and more complete than your soul. Shield men from her, and her from men.
(Sevgi, korku, hor görme ve nefretle ruhuna sıkı sıkı sarıl, ama onu gözünün önünden ayırma. O, demir duvarların ardında ve en derin kasada saklanması gereken cehennemsel-ilahi bir hazinedir. O her zaman dışarı çıkıp ışıltılı güzelliğini etrafa saçmak ister. Dikkat et, çünkü çoktan ihanete uğradın! Ruhundan daha sadakatsiz, daha kurnaz ve iğrenç bir kadın, daha kaba ve daha kötü şöhretli bir erkek asla bulamayacaksın; ruhundan daha güzel, daha asil ve daha eksiksiz birini de asla göremeyeceksin. İnsanları ondan, onu da insanlardan koru.)
Reklam
Reklam