--- QUOTES
A map of subtle signs surpassing thought
Was hung upon a wall of inmost mind.
Illumining the world's concrete images
Into significant symbols by its gloss,
~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, 1:5, 88
But please remember: this is only a work of fiction. The truth, as always, will be far stranger.
~ Arthur C Clarke
Ts'ui Pe must have said once: I am withdrawing to write a book. And another time: I am withdrawing to construct a labyrinth. Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing." ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths
I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths
Lost in these imaginary illusions I forgot my destiny - that of the hunted.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths
Gradually, the concrete enigma I labored at disturbed me less than the generic enigma of a sentence written by a god. What type of sentence (I asked myself) will an absolute mind construct? I considered that even in the human languages there is no proposition that does not imply the entire universe: to say "the tiger" is to say the tigers that begot it, the deer and turtles devoured by it, the grass on which the deer fed, the earth that was mother to the grass, the heaven that gave birth to the earth. I considered that in the language of a god every word would enunciate that infinite concatenation of facts, and not in an implicit but in an explicit manner, and not progressively but instantaneously. In time, the notion of a divine sentence seemed puerile or blasphemous. A god, I reflected, ought to utter only a single word and in that word absolute fullness. No word uttered by him can be inferior to the universe or less than the sum total of time.~ Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths, Selected Stories and Other Writings
From the twilight of day till the twilight of evening, a leopard, in the last years of the thirteenth century,
would see some wooden planks, some vertical iron bars, men and women who changed, a wall and
perhaps a stone gutter filled with dry leaves. He did not know, could not know, that he longed for love and cruelty
and the hot pleasure of tearing things to pieces and the wind carrying the scent of a deer, but something suffocated
and rebelled within him and God spoke to him in a dream: ""You live and will die in this prison so that a man I know
of may see you a certain number of times and not forget you and place your figure and symbol in a poem which has its
precise place in the scheme of the universe. You suffer captivity, but you will have given a word to the poem.
God, in the dream, illumined the animal's brutishness and the animal understood these reasons and accepted
his destiny, but, when he awoke, there was in him only an obscure resignation, a valorous ignorance, for the
machinery of the world is much too complex for the simplicity of a beast. ~ Jorge Luis Borges
I wanted a library like this...[] A cave of words that I'd made myself.
~ Maggie Stiefvater
see also ::: the Library, the Garden, the Book, the Universe, the Tower of MEM
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