THIRST is DEADLIER than hunger. Deprived of food, you might survive for a few weeks, but deprived of liquid refreshment, you would be lucky to last more than a few days. Only breathing matters more.
Öperek iyileştirilen yaralar
A kiss on the head-wipes away misery.
I kiss your head.
A kiss on the eyes-takes away sleeplessness.
I kiss your eyes.
A kiss on the lips-quenches the deepest thirst.
I kiss your lips.
A kiss on the head-wipes away memory.
I kiss your head.
Sayfa 33 - Penguin Books
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“Thirst is deadlier than hunger.”
"...I love and can love only that earth which I have left, stained with my blood, when, in my ingratitude, I quenched my life with a bullet in my heart. But I have never, never ceased to love that earth, and perhaps on the very night I parted from it I loved it more than ever. Is there suffering upon this new earth? On our earth we can only love with suffering and through suffering. We cannot love otherwise, and we know of no other sort of love. I want suffering in order to love. I long, I thirst, this very instant, to kiss with tears the earth that I have left, and I don't want, I won't accept life on any other!"
"there is a patience of the wild -dogged, tireless, persistent as life itself- that holds motionless for endless hours the spider in its web, the snake in its coils, the panther in its ambuscade. this patience belongs peculiarly to life when it hunts its living food; and it belonged to buck as he clung to the flank of the herd, retarding its march, irritating the young bulls, worrying the cows with their half-grown calves, and driving the wounded bull mad with helpless rage.
for half a day this continued. buck multiplied himself, attacking from all sides, enveloping the herd in a whirlwind of menace, cutting out his victim as fast as it could rejoin its mates, wearing out the patience of creatures preyed upon, which is a lesser patience than that of creatures preying. as the day wore along and the sun dropped to its bed in the northwest (the darkness had come back and the fall nights were six hours long), the young bulls retraced their steps more and more reluctantly to the aid of their beset leader. the down-coming winter was harrying them on to the lower levels, and it seemed they could never shake off this tireless creature that held them back. besides, it was not the life of the herd, or of the young bulls, that was threatened. the life of only one member was demanded, which was a remoter interest than their lives, and in the end they were content to pay the toll.
as twilight fell the old bull stood with lowered head, watching his mates -the cows he had known, the calves he had fathered, the bulls he had mastered- as they shambled on at a rapid pace through the fading light. he could not follow, for before his nose leaped the merciless fanged terror that would not let him go. three hundredweight more than half a ton he weighed; he had lived a long, strong life,
Let my friends build — I thirst only for destruction, because I am convinced that to build on carrion with rotten materials is a lost cause, and that new living materials and with them, new organisms, can arise only from immense destruction … For a long time ahead I see no poetry other than the grim poetry of destruction, and we will be fortunate if we get the chance to see even destruction.
