Toto jsou jména kmenu: Nejdále na jihu smerem k Chetlónu až k ceste do Chamátu a Chasar-énanu – hranice Damašku je na sever stranou Chamátu – od východní strany až k mori pripadne jeden podíl Danovi.
(Ezechiel 48; 1)
Bylo to neco, co jste nemohli videt na žádném jiném svete.
Samozrejme že jiný svet také neputoval hvezdným nekonecnem na zádech trí obrovských slonu, stojících na krunýri gigantické želvy. Její, nebo podle jiných ucení jeho, jméno bylo Velká A’Tuin.
(Terry Pratchett; Lehké fantasticno)
Tri prsteny pro krále elfu pod nebem,
Sedm vládcum trpaslíku v síních z kamene,
Deset mužum: každý je k smrti odsouzen,
Jeden pro Temného pána, jenž dlí na trune
v zemi Mordor, kde se snoubí šero s šerem.
Jeden prsten vládne všem,
jeden všem káže, jeden všechny privede,
do temnoty sváže v zemi Mordor,
kde se snoubí šero s šerem.
(J. R. R. Tolkien; Pán prstenu)
Nu, ješte se té nadeje docela nevzdávám; jen co budu mít pohromade tolik penez, ješte tak pet šest let -, rozhodne to udelám. Pak se to rozetne. Prozatím ovšem musím vstát, protože mi v pul šesté jede vlak.
Když už Rehor napul cnel z postele ven – nová metoda byla spíš hrou než námahou, stacilo, aby se vždycky jen trhnutím kousek pohoupl -, napadlo ho, jak by bylo všechno jednoduché, kdyby mu prišli na pomoc. Dva silnejší lidé – mel na mysli otce a služebnou – by docela stacili; musili by mu jen vsunout paže pod vypouklý hrbet, vyloupnout ho tak z postele, sehnout se s bremenem a pak jen opatrne vyckat, až provede premet na podlahu, kde snad nožicky dostanou nejaký smysl. Nu, nehlede k tomu, že dvere jsou zamcené, má snad vážne volat o pomoc? Pres všechnu bídu nemohl pri tom pomyšlení potlacit úsmev.
Byl už tak daleko, že pri silnejším zhoupnutí sotva držel rovnováhu, a ted už se co nejdrív musel definitivne rozhodnout, nebot bylo za pet minut ctvrt na jedenáct.
(Franz Kafka; Promena)
Kuliš s Napoleonem nechali prinést žebrík a opreli jej o vrata stodoly. Vysvetlili zvíratum, že se jim po trech mesících intenzivního studia podarilo soustredit zásady animalismu do deseti prikázání, která nyní napíšou na zed. Tato prikázání jsou nezmenitelné zákony, jimiž se na farme musí zvírata navždy rídit. S jistými potížemi (pro prase to není nic snadného) se Kuliš vyšplhal po žebríku a pustil se do práce, zatímco Pištík o pár prícek níže držel plechovku s bavou. Prikázání psali na dehtovou zed velkými bílými písmeny, která se dala precíst ze vzdálenosti triceti metru, a znela takto:
(George Orwell; Farma zvírat)
Zpráva z tisku: "Všechny delegace položily pak vence na hrob Neznámého vojína." A co na to Neznámý vojín?
V cele klaka,
pak ctnostné rodiny
a náruc chryzantém,
a žena hrdiny
pod paží s amantem,
kytky v dlaních
a pásky smutecní
civí tu pred branou,
ulpel na nich
pach síne tanecních
s bolestí sehranou…
(Karel Kryl; Písen neznámého vojína)
Za dva dny navštívil dr. Mejzlík básníka; básník tentokrát nespal, nýbrž mel tam nejakou dívku a marne shánel prázdnou židli, aby ji policejnímu úredníkovi nabídl.
„Já už zase bežím,“ rekl dr. Mejzlík. „Já vám jen jdu ríci, že to byl opravdu vuz císlo 215.“
„Jaký vuz?“ užasl básník.
(Karel Capek; Povídky z jedné kapsy)
Pri pomezí Danove od strany východní po západní pripadne jeden podíl Ašerovi. Pri pomezí Ašerove od západní strany po západní pripadne jeden podíl Neftalímu. Pri pomezí Neftalíove od východní strany po západní pripadne jeden podíl Manaseovi.
(Ezechiel 48; 2-4)
Byl pozdní vecer – druhý máj –
vecerní máj – byl lásky cas.
Hrdliccin zval ku lásce hlas,
kde borový zavánel háj.
O lásce šeptal tichý mech;
kvetoucí strom lhal lásky žel,
svou lásku slavík ruži pel,
ružinu jevil vonný vzdech.
(Karel Hynek Mácha; Máj)
Zde leží Jirí Wolker, básník, jež miloval svet,
a pro spravedlnost jeho chtel se bít,
drív však než mohl srdce své k boji vytasit,
zemrel mlád triatricet let!
(Jirí Wolker; Vlastní epitaf)
Buh stvoril cloveka, aby byl jeho obrazem, stvoril ho, aby byl obrazem Božím, jako muže a ženu je stvoril…
To snad že z pláce vdov máš porád strach,
chceš vecne žít jen sám a bez ženy?
Až bez dedice skoncíš na marách,
celý svet bude žalem zlomený.
Jak vdova bude plakat celá zem,
že vzals ji všechno s sebou do hrobu,
kdybys mel díte, tvoje vdova v nem
mohla by milovat tvou podobu.
Všechno, co na svete se rozutrácí,
jen zmení místo, aniž zmizí navždy,
kdo nepredá však detem dar své krásy,
ten nicí ji a sobectvím ji vraždí.
Ne ne, své bližní nemuže mít rád
kdo tohle svetu chtel by udelat.
(William Shakespeare; Sonet 17; preklad Martin Hilský)
"A co vy to vlastne deláte?" Taková základní otázka, jakou si ríkají cizí lidé v letadle. Zaznívá na akcích Sdružení rodicu a ucitelu, na ruzných vecírcích a taky ve všech situacích, do jakých se dostanete, kdy se jen tak klábosí. Je to zdvorile nenápadná výzva, abyste uvedli své sociální postavení. Byrokratická varianta této otázky je ponekud strohá: vyplnte okénko nadepsané "povolání". Na bernáku to tak chtejí - a taky policista, když vám dává pokutu, a pasové oddelení a banka. Rekni, za co jsi placen, a my budeme vedet, kdo jsi a jak s tebou máme zacházet.
Když se lidí zeptám, co delají, obvykle dostanu malou karticku, 9x5 centimetru, z tuhého papíru, která jejich totožnost podáva zhuštene. Jméno, název firmy, funkce, adresa, spousta císel - telefon, telex, kabelogram a fax. Firemní vizitka. Když dneska takovou vizitku nemáte, nikdo vás nemuže brát moc vážne. I když si nekdy myslím, že pravda je presne opacná.
Tak napríklad vizitka mého spolucestujícího tvrdila, že je místopredsedou pro systémovou analýzu u firmy Unico. "A co teda doopravdy deláte?" A on ukázal na svou funkci, jako bych to prehlédl. Zeptal jsem se znovu. "Já myslím, kdybych za váma celý den chodil, co bych vás videl delat?" Mluvil dlouho. A já stejne porád nevím, co to delá. A nejsem si ani jistý, že to ví on.
Vydelávat na živobytí a mít nejaký svuj život, to není totéž. Živobytí a život, který za neco stojí, to není totéž. Žít dobre a žít tak nejak, taky není totéž. Funkce v zamestnání ani zdaleka neodpovídá na otázku: "Co deláte?"
Marcela Duchampa, jehož vetšina lidí považuje za neodmyslitelnou soucast výtvarného umení období do roku 1945, implikace té klasické otázky rozcilovaly taky. Odpovídal: "Já jsem respirateur" (ten, kdo dýchá). Vysvetloval, že se zabývá dýcháním víc než jakoukoliv jinou cinností, a taky, že je v tom velmi úspešný. Potom už se lidé obvykle neodvážili zeptat, co delá ješte jiného.
(Robert Fulghum; Už horela, když jsem si do ní lehal)
Netoliko, že je tma, ale nevidím
Vím, že je tu všude tma, já ji nevidím
Vidím jenom to, že nevidím nic
když pripustím, že vidím, mel bych videt víc
Svou hlavu, trup, dve ruce, nohy nevidím
kam se podel muj doposud dokonalý zrak
na všem leží neproniknutelne modrý mrak
nevím ani kudy jíti mám a kam
a to, že na hlave tmavomodrý klobouk mám
to je práve klam
Nemám hlad, tak co mi naplat
že mi chutná
Co naplat, že ac nemám hlad
nedel, sedm hodin, tri mesíce a šest let
melancholicky jsem pozoroval svet
(Jaroslav Ježek; Tmavomodrý svet)
Keška je klasická plastová dóza o objemu necelý 1l.
Je to tématická literární cache, prosím, vkládejte pouze úryvky textu – svou oblíbenou básen, úryvek z knihy... pokud jste líní neco tisknout, mužete svá moudra napsat na volné papíry v keši.
Pokud chcete, „provedte obchod“ a nejaký úryvek si vezmete, ale byla bych radši, kdybyste si vše pouze precetli a nechali i pro ty, kterí prijdou po vás. Ale pokud vás neco hodne zaujme, a víte, že si to nezapamatujete, tak si to odneste :o)
Protože je cache plná papíru, dávejte pozor, at nic nepomackáte a pri špatném pocasí si zkuste najít nejaký úkryt, než ji otevrete. Nebude to zas tak težké.
Pokud nevíte, nebo si chcete overit souradnice, napište.
Now these are the names of the tribes. From the south end to the coast of the way of Hethlon, as one goeth to Hamath, Hazarenan, the border of Damascus northward, to the coast of Hamath; for these are his sides east and west; a portion for Dan.
(Ezechiel 48; 1)
It was a sight to be seen on no other world.
Of course, no other world was carried through the starry infinity on the backs of three giant elephants, who were themselves perched on the shell of a giant turtle. His name-or Her name, according to another school of thought-was Great A'Tuin.
(Terry Pratchett, Light Fantastic)
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Ten for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
(J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings)
When Lord Henry entered the room, he found his uncle sitting in a rough shooting-coat, smoking a cheroot and grumbling over The Times. "Well, Harry," said the old gentleman, "what brings you out so early? I thought you dandies never got up till two, and were not visible till seven."
"Pure family affection, I assure you, Uncle George. I want to get something out of you."
"Money, I suppose," said Lord Fermor, making a wry face. "Well, sit down and tell me all about it. Young people, nowadays, imagine that money is everything."
"Yes," murmured Lord Henry, settling his button-hole in his coat; "and when they grow older they know it. But I don't want money. It is only people who pay their bills who want that, Uncle George, and I never pay mine. Credit is the capital of a younger son, and one lives charmingly upon it. Besides, I always deal with Dartmoor's tradesmen, and consequently they never bother me. What I want is information: not useful information, of course; useless information."
(Oscar Wilde; The Picture of Dorian Gray)
At last he heard a step outside, and the door opened. "How late you are, Harry!" he murmured.
"I am afraid it is not Harry, Mr. Gray," answered a shrill voice.
He glanced quickly round and rose to his feet. "I beg your pardon. I thought--"
"You thought it was my husband. It is only his wife. You must let me introduce myself. I know you quite well by your photographs. I think my husband has got seventeen of them."
"Not seventeen, Lady Henry?"
"Well, sixeen, then. And I saw you with him the other night at the opera." She laughed nervously as she spoke, and watched him with her vague forget-me-not eyes. She was a curious woman, whose dresses always looked as if they had been designed in a rage and put on in a tempest. She was usually in love with somebody, and, as her passion was never returned, she had kept all her illusions. She tried to look picturesque, but only succeeded in being untidy. Her name was Victoria, and she had a perfect mania for going to church.
"That was at Lohengrin, Lady Henry, I think?"
"Yes; it was at dear Lohengrin. I like Wagner's music better than anybody's. It is so loud that one can talk the whole time without other people hearing what one says. That is a great advantage, don't you think so, Mr. Gray?"
This was to be the name of the farm from now onwards. After this they went back to the farm buildings, where Snowball and Napoleon sent for a ladder which they caused to be set against the end wall of the big barn. They explained that by their studies of the past three months the pigs had succeeded in reducing the principles of Animalism to Ten Commandments. These Ten Commandments would now be inscribed on the wall; they would form an unalterable law by which all the animals on Animal Farm must live for ever after. With some difficulty (for it is not easy for a pig to balance himself on a ladder) Snowball climbed up and set to work, with Squealer a few rungs below him holding the paint-pot. The Commandments were written on the tarred wall in great white letters that could be read thirty yards away. They ran thus:
(George Orwell; Animal Farm)
Candy said, "I ain't much good with on'y one hand. I lost my hand right here on this ranch. That's why they give me a job swampin'. An' they give me three hunderd an' fifty dollars 'cause I los' my hand. An' I got fifty more saved up right in the bank, right now. Tha's four hunderd, and I got fifty more comin' the end a the month. Tell you what-" He leaned forward eagerly. "S'pose I went in with you guys. Tha's three hunderd an' fifty bucks I'd put in. I ain't much good, but I could cook and tend the chickens and hoe the garden some. How'd that be?"
George half-closed his eyes. "I gotta think about that. We was always gonna do it by ourselves."
(John Steinbeck; Of Mice and Men)
And by the border of Dan, from the east side unto the west side, a portion for Asher. And by the border of Asher, from the west side even unto the west side, a portion for Naphtali. And by the border of Naphtali, from the east side unto the west side, a portion for Manasseh.
(Ezechiel 48; 2-4)
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
And where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of ten misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
(Bob Dylan, A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall)
I felt rather hurt about this at first; it seemed somehow to be a sort of slight. Why hadn't I got housemaid's knee? Why this invidious reservation? After a while, however, less grasping feelings prevailed. I reflected that I had every other known malady in the pharmacology, and I grew less selfish, and determined to do without housemaid's knee. Gout, in its most malignant stage, it would appear, had seized me without my being aware of it; and zymosis I had evidently been suffering with from boyhood. There were no more diseases after zymosis, so I concluded there was nothing else the matter with me.
I sat and pondered. I thought what an interesting case I must be from a medical point of view, what an acquisition I should be to a class! Students would have no need to "walk the hospitals," if they had me. I was a hospital in myself. All they need do would be to walk round me, and, after that, take their diploma.
Then I wondered how long I had to live. I tried to examine myself. I felt my pulse. I could not at first feel any pulse at all. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed to start off. I pulled out my watch and timed it. I made it a hundred and fifty-seven to the minute. I tried to feel my heart. I could not feel my heart. It had stopped beating. I have since been induced to come to the opinion that it must have been there all the time, and must have been beating, but I cannot account for it. I patted myself all over my front, from what I call my waist up to my head, and I went a bit round each side, and a little way up the back. But I could not feel or hear anything. I tried to look at my tongue. I stuck it out as far as ever it would go, and I shut one eye, and tried to examine it with the other. I could only see the tip, and the only thing that I could gain from that was to feel more certain than before that I had scarlet fever.
I had walked into that reading-room a happy, healthy man. I crawled out a decrepit wreck.
I went to my medical man. He is an old chum of mine, and feels my pulse, and looks at my tongue, and talks about the weather, all for nothing, when I fancy I'm ill; so I thought I would do him a good turn by going to him now. "What a doctor wants," I said, "is practice. He shall have me. He will get more practice out of me than out of seventeen hundred of your ordinary, commonplace patients, with only one or two diseases each." So I went straight up and saw him, and he said:
"Well, what's the matter with you?"
"I will not take up your time, dear boy, with telling you what is the matter with me. Life is brief, and you might pass away before I had finished. But I will tell you what is not the matter with me. I have not got housemaid's knee. Why I have not got housemaid's knee, I cannot tell you; but the fact remains that I have not got it. Everything else, however, I have got."
And I told him how I came to discover it all.
Then he opened me and looked down me, and clutched hold of my wrist, and then he hit me over the chest when I wasn't expecting it - a cowardly thing to do, I call it - and immediately afterwards butted me with the side of his head. After that, he sat down and wrote out a prescription, and folded it up and gave it me, and I put it in my pocket and went out.
I did not open it. I took it to the nearest chemist's, and handed it in. The man read it, and then handed it back.
He said he didn't keep it.
"You are a chemist?"
"I am a chemist. If I was a co-operative stores and family hotel combined, I might be able to oblige you. Being only a chemist hampers me."
I read the prescription. It ran:
"1 lb. beefsteak, with
1 pt. bitter beer
every 6 hours.
1 ten-mile walk every morning.
1 bed at 11 sharp every night.
And don't stuff up your head with things you don't understand."
I followed the directions, with the happy result - speaking for myself - that my life was preserved, and is still going on.
(Jerome K. Jerome; Three Men in a Boat)
So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.
Is it for fear to wet a widow´s eye
That thou consum´st thy self in single life?
Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children´s eyes her husband´s shape in mind.
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend,
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty´s waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unus‘d, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd´rous shame commits.
(William Shakespeare; Sonet 17)
“Well, so, what is it you do?” Your basic strangers-on-a-plane question. Comes up at the PTA potluck and the corporate cocktail party and just about any other stand-around-and-make-small-talk situation you get into. It’s a politely veiled status inquiry to clarify social standing. The bureaucratic version of the question is terse: Fill in the blank marked “Occupation”. The IRS wants it that way – and the policeman giving you a ticket, and the passport agency, and the bank. Say what you are paid to do, and we will know who you are and how to deal with you.
When I ask people what they do, I susually get a stiff little piece of 3 ½” x 2” paper that summarizes their identity. Name, company name, title, address, lots of numbers – phone, telex, cable, and fax. Business card. If you don’t have a business card these days, you are not to be taken too seriously. Though I sometimes think the truth may be vice versa.
For example, a fellow traveler¨s card said he was vice-president for systems analysis of Unico. “Well, so, what is it you really DO?” And he pointed at his title as if I had overlooked it. I asked again. “ I mean, if I followed you around all day long, what would I see you doing?” He talked for a long time. I still really do not know what he does. And I am not sure he knows, either.
Making a living and having a life are not the same thing. Making a living and making a life that’s worthwhile are not the same thing. Living the good life and a good life are not the same thing. A job title doesn’t even come close to answering the question “What do you do?”
Marcel Duchamp, who most people think of as a fixture in the world of fine art during the period before 1945, was equally frustrated by the implications of the standard inquiry. He would answer, “I am a respirateur” (a breather). He explained that he did more breathing than anything else, and was very, very good at it, too. After that, people were susually afraid to ask him what else he did.
(Robert Fulghum; It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It)
"Santiago," the boy said.
"Yes," the old man said. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.
"Can I go out to get sardines for you tomorrow?"
"No. Go and play baseball. I can still row and Rogelio will throw the net."
"I would like to go. If I cannot fish with you, I would like to serve in some way."
"You bought me a beer," the old man said. "You are already a man."
"How old was I when you first took me in a boat?"
"Six and you nearly were killed when I brought the fish in too green and he nearly tore the boat to pieces. Can you remember?"
"I can remember the tail slapping and banging and the thwart breaking and the noise of the clubbing. I can remember you throwing me into the bow where the wet coiled lines were and feeling the whole boat shiver and the noise of you clubbing him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me."
"Can you really remember that or did I just tell it to you?"
"I remember everything from when we first went together."
(Ernest Hemingway; The Old Man and the Sea)
The cache is a small plastic container, about one litre in volume.
If you need advice, or confirmation of your results, leave me a message.
It is dedicated to literature, so please trade only pieces of text (your favourite poem or book excerpt), not other items (well, bookmarks could do;o). You can bring printed texts or write something on free sheets of paper in the cache.
I would be happier, if you only read the texts in the cache and left them for others who come after you. But if you particularly like one and you know you won’t remember it, help yourself.
Because the cache is full of paper, please be careful not to crease the contents too much and try to find a shelter, if it’s raining. It won’t be that difficult.