29 September 2018 @ 07:54 pm
 
Chance had cast me on his island, chance had thrown me in his arms. In a world of chance, is there a better and a worse? We yield to a stranger's embrace or give ourselves to the waves; for the blink of an eyelid our vigilance relaxes; we are asleep; and when we awake, we have lost the direction of our lives. What are these blinks of an eyelid, against which the only defense is an eternal and inhuman wakefulness? Might they not be the cracks and chinks through which another voice, other voices, speak in our lives? By what right do we close our ears to them? The questions echoed in my head without answer.

(J. M. Coetzee "Foe")
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pelnufeja[info]pelnufeja on September 29th, 2018 - 10:33 pm
Es šodien atcerējos, ka man tas bija atzīmēts. Nu, jo es izlasīju apmēram pusi grāmatas kaut kad septembra sākumā un tad pagājušonedēļ/šodien pārējo.

Mēs jau bieži atzīmējam līdzīgus citātus. :) Gribēju teikt - tos pašus nevis līdzīgus.
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