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Yann Martel

Dátum narodenia: 25. jún 1963
Ďalšie mená: Янн Мартел, یان مارتل

Yann Martel je kanadský spisovateľ, ktorý sa narodil v rodine kanadských diplomatov. Vďaka tomu už v detstve veľa cestoval a vyrastal postupne na Aljaške, v Kostarike, Mexiku, vo Francúzsku a v Kanade.

Po štúdiách na Trentskej univerzite v Peterborough v provincii Ontário vo veku 27 rokov začal svoju literárnu kariéru. Pokračoval tak v šľapajach svojho otca, ktorý získal v roku 1965 Cenu generálneho guvernéra za najlepšiu francúzku básnickú zbierku. Návštevy a život v zahraničí ovplyvnili do značnej miery jeho tvorbu.

Jeho prvou úspešnou poviedkou bola The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios, ktorá sa neskôr stala základom pre jeho zbierku rovnakého mena. Roku 1966 vydal Martel svoj prvý román Self . Za svoj druhý román Plavba s tigrom získal cenu Hugha MacLennanna za najlepší román roku a o rok neskôr prestížnu britskú literárnu cenu Man Booker Prize.

V súčasnosti žije v Montreale a pracuje na svojom ďalšom románe. Wikipedia

„Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud…“

—  Yann Martel, kniha Life of Pi

Zdroj: Life of Pi (2001), Chapter 1, p. 6
Kontext: The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity — it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.

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„It was a hard slap, forceful yet casual, given for no reason, before I had even identified myself. If they would do that to me, why wouldn't they do worse? Indeed, how could they stop themselves?“

—  Yann Martel

Zdroj: Beatrice & Virgil (2010), p. 175
Kontext: I remember the first slap, just as I was being brought in. Already then something was lost forever, a basic trust. If there's an exquisite collection of Meissen porcelain and a man takes a cup and deliberately drops it to the floor, shattering it, why wouldn't he then proceed to break everything else? What difference does it make, cup or tureen, once the man has made clear his disregard for porcelain? With that first blow, something akin to porcelain shattered in me. It was a hard slap, forceful yet casual, given for no reason, before I had even identified myself. If they would do that to me, why wouldn't they do worse? Indeed, how could they stop themselves? A single blow is a dot, meaningless. It's a line that is wanted, a connection between the dots that will give purpose and direction. One blow demands a second and then a third and onwards.

„Nothing beats reason for keeping tigers away. But be excessively reasonable and you risk throwing out the universe with the bathwater.“

—  Yann Martel, kniha Life of Pi

Zdroj: Life of Pi (2001), Chapter 99, pp. 330–331
Kontext: I applied my reason at every moment. Reason is excellent for getting food, clothing and shelter. Reason is the very best tool kit. Nothing beats reason for keeping tigers away. But be excessively reasonable and you risk throwing out the universe with the bathwater.

„Colonialism is a terrible bane for a people upon whom it is imposed, but a blessing for a language.“

—  Yann Martel

Zdroj: Beatrice & Virgil (2010), p. 23
Kontext: Colonialism is a terrible bane for a people upon whom it is imposed, but a blessing for a language. English's drive to exploit the new and the alien, its zeal in robbing words from other languages, its incapacity to feel qualms over the matter, its museum-size overabundance of vocabulary, its shoulder-shrug approach to spelling, its don't-worry-be-happy concern for grammar—the result was a language whose colour and wealth Henry loved. In his entirely personal experience of [languages], English was jazz music, German was classical music, French was ecclesiastical music, and Spanish was music from the streets. Which is to say, stab his heart and it would bleed French, slice his brain open and its convolutions would be lined with English and German, and touch his hands and they would feel Spanish.

„I was weeping because Richard Parker left me so unceremoniously.“

—  Yann Martel, kniha Life of Pi

Zdroj: Life of Pi (2001), Chapter 94, p. 316
Kontext: I was weeping because Richard Parker left me so unceremoniously. What a terrible thing it is to botch the farewell. I am a person who believes in form, in the harmony of order. Where we can, we must give things meaningful shape.

„To my mind, faith is like being in the sun. When you are in the sun, can you avoid creating a shadow?“

—  Yann Martel

Zdroj: Beatrice & Virgil (2010), p. 103
Kontext: To my mind, faith is like being in the sun. When you are in the sun, can you avoid creating a shadow? Can you shake that area of darkness that clings to you, always shaped like you, as if constantly to remind you of yourself? You can't. This shadow is doubt. And it goes wherever you go as long as you stay in the sun. And who wouldn't want to be in the sun?

„I survived because I forgot even the very notion of time.“

—  Yann Martel, kniha Life of Pi

Zdroj: Life of Pi (2001), Chapter 63, p. 212
Kontext: I did not count the days or the weeks or the months. Time is an illusion that only makes us pant. I survived because I forgot even the very notion of time.

„Already then something was lost forever, a basic trust.“

—  Yann Martel

Zdroj: Beatrice & Virgil (2010), p. 175
Kontext: I remember the first slap, just as I was being brought in. Already then something was lost forever, a basic trust. If there's an exquisite collection of Meissen porcelain and a man takes a cup and deliberately drops it to the floor, shattering it, why wouldn't he then proceed to break everything else? What difference does it make, cup or tureen, once the man has made clear his disregard for porcelain? With that first blow, something akin to porcelain shattered in me. It was a hard slap, forceful yet casual, given for no reason, before I had even identified myself. If they would do that to me, why wouldn't they do worse? Indeed, how could they stop themselves? A single blow is a dot, meaningless. It's a line that is wanted, a connection between the dots that will give purpose and direction. One blow demands a second and then a third and onwards.

„Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Etiam egestas wisi a erat. Morbi imperdiet, mauris ac auctor dictum.“

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