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(3.84) | 49 | Informed that his clay pots and jugs are no longer needed, elderly potter Cipriano applies his craft to the making of ceramic dolls, but his family's subsequent successes are compromised by a terrible discovery. |
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| Premi e riconoscimenti |
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| Epigrafe |
Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi. Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua. What a strange scene you describe and what strange prisoners, they are just like us.
Plato, The Republic, Book VII  | |
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| Dedica |
Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi. Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua. For Pilar | |
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Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi. Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua. The man driving the truck is called Cipriano Algor, he is a potter by profession and is sixty-four years old, although he certainly does not look his age. | |
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Dati dalle informazioni generali inglesi. Modifica per tradurlo nella tua lingua. Cipriano Algor would like to go on luxuriating in the tranquility of his bed, to take advantage of that delicious morning sleep, which, perhaps because we are vaguely aware of it, is alway the most restoring. Moments never arrive either late or early, they merely arrive at the right time for them, not for us, there is no need to feel grateful when what they propose happens to coincide with what we need. ...some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don't understand that the words are merely stepping stones placed across a fast-flowing river, and the reason they're there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it's the other side that matters...unless each reader is his or her own shore, and that shore is the only shore worth reaching. (p.62) ...very few people are aware that in each of our fingers...there is a tiny brain...the organ which we call the brain...has only ever had very general, vague, diffuse and, above all, unimaginative ideas about what the hands and fingers should do....the fingers are not born with brains, these develop gradually with the passage of time and with the help of what the eyes see....(p.66-67) only with the invisible knowledge of the fingers will one ever be able to paint the infinite fabric of dreams. (p.68) Fortunately there are books. We can leave them on a shelf or in a trunk, abandon them to the dust and the moths...they wait quietly, closed in upon themselves so that noe of their contents are lost, for the moment that always arrives, te day when we ask ourselves, I wonder where that book about firing clay has got to...(p.159) I'll get used to it, we say...what no one asks is at what cost do we get used to things. (p.213) The only time we can talk about death is while we're alive, not afterward. (p.23) ...there will again be the first flame from the wood, the first hot breath of air that encircles the dry clay like a caress, and then, very gradually, the slight tremor in the air, the rapidly increasing glow, the dawning splendor, the dazzling irruption into flames. (p.24) I don't doubt that a man can live perfectly well on hhis own, but I'm convinced that he begins to die as soon as he closes the door of his house behind him. (p.29) the important thing was not to stand there [at the grave]...the important thing is the road you walked, the journey you made...(p.32) | |
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▾Riferimenti Risorse esterne che parlano di questo libro  Wikipedia in inglese (1)
▾Descrizioni del libro Informed that his clay pots and jugs are no longer needed, elderly potter Cipriano applies his craft to the making of ceramic dolls, but his family's subsequent successes are compromised by a terrible discovery. ▾Descrizioni da biblioteche Non sono state trovate descrizioni di biblioteche ▾Descrizione degli utenti di LibraryThing |
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ScarpaOderzo | Apr 15, 2020 | 
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