| ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit |
Nov. 7th, 2009|05:38 pm |
Šodien pārlasu Oskara Vailda darbus. Viņam bija taisnība, kad viņš teica: "I have nothing to declare but my genius." Katru reizi es pamanu ko jaunu, un smalkā maniere, kā viņš pasniedzis filozofiskas domas, sabiedrības uzskatus un īpašības, kā arī nepārspējamu humoru, ir vienkārši brīnišķīga.
Lai arī pastāv mūsdienu rakstnieki, kas ir apveltīti ar lielisku talantu sniegt saviem lasītājiem ironisku humoru(kā, piemēram, Nick Hornby), šķiet, tāda māksla atkārtojas ļoti reti.
"Jack: I am sick to death of cleverness. Everybody is clever nowadays. You can't go anywhere without meeting clever people. The thing has become an absolute public nuisance. I wish to goodness we had a few fools left.
Algernon: We have.
Jack: I should extremely like to meet them. What do they talk about?
Algernon: The fools? Oh! about the clever people, of course.
Jack: What fools."
"Algernon: Well, what shall we do?
Jack: Nothing!
Algernon: It is awfully hard work doing nothing. However, I don't mind hard work [..]." |
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