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" "He gained height, grew thin, the hair on his temples had begun to grey, but, now as then, he had none of that useful sense of proportion, nor could he ever develop anything of the sort, which might have helped him distinguish between the continuous flux of the universe of which he constituted a part (though a necessarily fleeting part) and the passage of time, the perception of which might have led to an intuitive and wise acceptance of fate. Despite vain efforts to understand and experience what precisely his 'dear friends' wanted from each other, he confronted the slow tide of human affairs with a sad incomprehension, dispassionately and without any sense of personal involvement, for the greater part of his consciousness, the part entirely given over to wonder, had left no room for more mundane matters, and (to his mother's inordinate shame and the extreme amusement of the locals) had ever since then trapped him in a bubble of time, in one eternal, impenetrable and transparent moment. He walked, he trudged, he flitted - as his great friend once said, not entirely without point - 'blindly and tirelessly... with the incurable beauty of his personal cosmos' in his soul [...]
László Krasznahorkai (; born 5 January 1954) is a Hungarian novelist and screenwriter known for difficult and demanding novels, often labeled postmodern, with dystopian and melancholic themes. Several of his works, including his novels Satantango (, 1985) and The Melancholy of Resistance (, 1989), have been turned into feature films by Hungarian film director Béla Tarr.
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„Ne könyörögjünk! Mert értelmünk nem telt el az igazsággal, s nem dicsőültünk meg az Úr színe előtt. És ne fogadd el, Urunk, keserű gyülekezeted ajándékait, hiszen ebben a megszentelt házban néped a titkokon keresztül nem nyerte el az örök üdvösséget. És bizony méltó, igazságos, illő és üdvös, hogy bevalljuk mindezt, s most szomorúan visszalépjünk az imádságnak ebből az emberi munkával épített templomából, s így legyen ez a templom itt az el nem ért üdvösség háza és mennyei szentségek örökre elérhetetlen csarnoka.
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Imaginile i se perindau in tacere, iar si iar, prin fata ochilor, intr-o succesiune tot mai rigida, parca tot ce considera omul ca-i important sa fie pastrat ar avea o ordine independenta si indisolubila, iar in timp ce memoria lucreaza sa confere certitudine si existenta prezentul atat de vremelnic, validand firele regulii vii in tesatura libera a evenimentelor , il obliga pe om ca podul peste haul ce-l desparte de propria viata sa nu-l construiasca din libertate, ci din propriile satisfactii spasmodice.