#Krasznahorkai

[bnmxfld]

It passes, but it does not pass away.

László Krasznahorkai / The Melancholy of Resistance

[discoursets]

today in pixels. 🥟🌱🍜

[majestativa]

I have seen it all in my mind’s eye.

— László Krasznahorkai, Animalinside, transl by Ottilie Mulzet, (2010)

[quotespile]

Culture, then, only truly becomes culture when it is embodied in someone.

László Krasznahorkai, Destruction and Sorrow Beneath the Heavens

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“It passes, but it does not pass away.” ― Laszlo Krasznahorkai

[riverbird]

"I would leave everything here: the valleys, the hills, the paths, and the jaybirds from the gardens, I would leave here the petcocks and the padres, heaven and earth, spring and fall, I would leave here the exit routes, the evenings in the kitchen, the last amorous gaze, and all of the city-bound directions that make you shudder, I would leave here the thick twilight falling upon the land, gravity, hope, enchantment, and tranquility, I would leave here those beloved and those close to me, everything that touched me, everything that shocked me, fascinated and uplifted me, I would leave here the noble, the benevolent, the pleasant, and the demonically beautiful, I would leave here the budding sprout, every birth and existence, I would leave here incantation, enigma, distances, inexhaustibility, and the intoxication of eternity; for here I would leave this earth and these stars, because I would take nothing with me from here, because I’ve looked into what’s coming, and I don’t need anything from here." László Krasznahorkai, I Don’t Need Anything from Here

[dk-thrive]

exhausted by all this lugging and suddenly looking down at his hands sees that there is nothing in them, there never was

“It was the kind of nightmare where you realize that the missing weight of things is sitting right there on your chest, like some kind of succubus, but before you can shove it off, it gets sucked away through a mysterious process into the unknowable realm of your cells, and from there on you are defenseless, your cells already weigh a ton, while your whole body is so light it almost floats, and that’s how it goes until you can only wonder how the cells could be so unbearably heavy when the body is so nauseatingly light, and in this nauseating lightheadedness things gradually recede from you just as you too begin to gradually recede from them, in a word it is like when a person lugging a load becomes exhausted by all this lugging and suddenly looking down at his hands sees that there is nothing in them, there never was, that he had been lugging nothing—that is, when you suddenly realize that something is no longer in your possession, just as nothing ever had been.” 

― László Krasznahorkai, The World Goes On (New Directions, April 2, 2024) (via Alive in All Channels)

[aschenblumen]

Los dos relojes –tranquiliza el otro a su compañero– indican dos horas diferentes, aunque ninguno de ellos lo hace con exactitud. El nuestro –añade señalando hacia arriba con su dedo índice extraordinariamente largo y delgado– atrasa demasiado y aquel, en cambio, no mide el tiempo, sino la eternidad de la servidumbre, con la cual nuestra relación semeja de la una ramilla con la lluvia: una relación de impotencia.

—László Krasznahorkai, «II. Resucitamos» en Tango satánico. Traducción de Adan Kovacsics.

[addictivecontradiction]

A torinói ló, 2011

[etrangersvoyageant]

Faith, thought Eszter . . . is not a matter of believing something, but believing that somehow things could be different; in the same way, music was not the articulation of some better part of ourselves, or a reference to some notion of a better world, but a disguising of the fact of our irredeemable selves and the sorry state of the world, but no, not merely a disguising but a complete, twisted denial of such facts: it was a cure that did not work, a barbiturate that functioned as an opiate.

László Krasznahorkai, The Melancholy of Resistance

[litsnaps]

[allbuthuman]

War and War by Krasznahorkai László

charles nouette / mark rothko / kathleen graber unknown / billy collins / frank brunner / status of a steam user / michael dumontier / alex dimitrov

[discoursets]

work station mess.

[majestativa]

To resist an increasingly suffocating sense of sadness.

— László Krasznahorkai, Satantango, transl by George Szirtes, (2012)

[quotespile]

It was the kind of nightmare where you realize that the missing weight of things is sitting right there on your chest, like some kind of succubus, but before you can shove it off, it gets sucked away through a mysterious process into the unknowable realm of your cells, and from there on you are defenseless, your cells already weigh a ton, while your whole body is so light it almost floats, and that’s how it goes until you can only wonder how the cells could be so unbearably heavy when the body is so nauseatingly light, and in this nauseating lightheadedness things gradually recede from you just as you too begin to gradually recede from them, in a word it is like when a person lugging a load becomes exhausted by all this lugging and suddenly looking down at his hands sees that there is nothing in them, there never was, that he had been lugging nothing — that is, when you suddenly realize that something is no longer in your possession, just as nothing ever had been.

László Krasznahorkai, The World Goes On

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * *

"To progress in life you must give up the things you do not like. Give up doing the things that you do not like to do. You must find the things that you do like. The things that are acceptable to your mind."

[Agnes Martin]

+

“There is an intense relationship between proximate objects, a much weaker one between objects further away, and as for the really distant ones there is none at all, and that is the nature of God.” ― László Krasznahorkai