Siberia

Quand on dit « Sibérie », personne n'a envie de sourire : c'est un mot qui charrie la prison et la mort. Les gens normaux n'ont pas envie d'explorer la Sibérie : il faut être fou pour vouloir aller voir où coule le fleuve _ _ _ _ _.

Atténtat, Amélie Nothomb,
Albin Michele, Paris,
15éme édition, 2007, p. 124.

Tell me about winds

Almásy: Let me tell you about winds. There is a whirlwind from southern Morrocco, the aajej, against which the fellahin defend themselves with knives. And there is the ghibli, from Tunis...
Katharine Clifton: [giggling] The 'ghibli'?
Almásy: [smiling] - the ghibli, which rolls and rolls and rolls and produces a rather strange nervous condition. And then there is the harmattan, a red wind, which mariners call the sea of darkness. And red sand from this wind has flown as far as the south coast of England, apparently producing showers so dense they were mistaken for blood.
Katharine Clifton: Fiction! We have a house on that coast and it has never, never rained blood.
Almásy: No, it's all true. Herodotus, your friend - he writes about it, and he writes about a wind, the samoun, which a nation thought was so evil that they declared war on it and marched out against it in full battle dress. Their swords raised.

The English Patient
(Anthony Minghella, 1996)

El tiempo pasa; los instantes flotan

—¡Pero el tiempo es oro! ¡No lo olvide usted!
—Según los casos; hay meses enteros que daría uno por cincuenta kopecks, y cuartos de hora que no se darían por ningún tesoro.

Ana Karenina, Cap. XXXV, Leon Tolstoi.

Adoucissement

The thrill of the blank notebook

Changing eating habits

I used to live on crumbs, until I realised
that I'm entitled to a whole loaf.

Cartas

Me parece que tengo una cálida moneda de oro en la mano y no la puedo soltar. Pero tampoco quiero soltarla [...]

De Federico García Lorca
a Salvador Dalí

Odisea. Canto XI, 373-374

La noche es larga, interminable, y aún no llegó
la hora de dormir en palacio. Cuéntame, huésped,
esas hazañas admirables.

Le risque de vivre

— Risquer sa vie, en l'occurrence.
— C'est un pléonasme. Le risque, c'est la vie même. On ne peut risquer que sa vie. Et si on ne la risque pas, on ne vit pas.
— Mais là, si je risque, je meurs !
— Tu meurs encore plus si tu ne risques pas.

Cosmétique de l'ennemi, Amélie Nothomb,
Éditions Albin Michel, 2001, p. 118.

Living on cloud nine

Penelope

Just in time...

Où suis-je ?

Spot the difference

'C'me on, guys, are you really calling me ugly duckling?'