Invictus

by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

INVICTUS (español)

Mas allá de la noche que me cubre,
Negra como el abismo de polo a polo,
Agradezco a cualquier dios que pudiera existir
Por mi alma inconquistable.

En las feroces garras de la circunstancia
Ni he gemido ni he gritado.
Bajo los golpes del azar
Mi cabeza sangra, pero no se inclina.

Más allá de este lugar de ira y lágrimas
Yacen los horrores de la sombra,
Y sin embargo, la amenaza de los años
Me encuentra y me encontrará sin miedo.

No importa cuán estrecha sea la puerta,
Cuán cargada de castigos la sentencia.
Soy el amo de mi destino:
Soy el capitán de mi alma.

Nature knows better

“Man desires concord; but nature knows better what is good for his species; she desires discord.”

― Immanuel Kant

Imre Kertész

"Si un hijo es la objetivación humana del futuro, el hijo que no se ha tenido es la dolorosa constatación de la ausencia de ese futuro."

Imre Kertész
Kaddish por el hijo no nacido.

Francis Bacon

‘Imagination was given to man to compensate for what he is not; a sense of humour to console him for what he is.’
Francis Bacon

Sehnsucht

C. S. Lewis describe Sehnsucht como "el incontrolable deseo" en el corazón del hombre hacia "no se sabe qué".

Source: wikipedia

Billie Holiday

Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Genealogy

The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you can see.

Winston Churchill