Quotes from Alvaro Mutis

Since a good part of my life has been wasted dealing with fools just like them, it's not worry I feel but weariness as I watch the approach of one more episode in the old, tired story of men who try to beat life, the smart ones who think they know it all and die with a look of surprise on their faces: at the final moment they always see the truth - they never really understood anything, never held anything in their hands. An old story, old and boring.

Una carovana non simbolizza né rappresenta nulla. Il nostro errore consiste nel pensare che vada da qualche parte o provenga da qualche altra. Il significato della carovana si cifra nella sua stessa deriva. Lo sanno gli animali che la compongono, lo ignorano i carovanieri. Sarà sempre così.

El cielo está a la vista durante buena parte del día, y, en la noche, las estrellas, con la cercanía familiar que las distingue en la zona ecuatorial, despiden esa aura protectora, vigilante, que nos llena de sosiego al darnos la certeza, fugaz, si se quiere, pero presente en el reparador trecho nocturno, de que las cosas siguen su curso con la fatal regularidad que sostiene a los hijos del tiempo, a las criaturas sumisas al destino, a nosotros los hombres.

Ahora que vuelvo a pensar en ello, me doy cuenta de que el sentido que se embota primero, a medida que la vida se nos va viniendo encima, es el de la piedad. La tan llevada y traída solidaridad humana que jamás ha significado para mí nada concreto. Se la menciona en circunstancias de pasajero pánico. Entonces pensamos más bien en el apoyo de los demás y no en el que nosotros podríamos ofrecerles.

These struggles to change the world: I've seen them end either in a miserable dictatorship bloated with simplistic ideology applied with no less primitive rhetoric, or in a profitable business for a handful of cynics who always pretend to be disinterested, decent people committed to the welfare of the country and its inhabitants. In either case, the dead, the orphans and widows, become pretexts for parades and ceremonies as sickening as they are hypocritical. The great lie built on grief.

El adjudicarle el término de amor a un fenómeno tan total era caer en una simpleza, en una inaudita superficialidad.

I spent the strangest days of my life in Amirbar. In Amirbar I left shreds of my soul and most of the energy that fired my youth. Perhaps I came down from there more serene, I don't know, but I was everlastingly weary too. What happened to me since then has been a matter of simply surviving each day's difficulties. Trivialities. Not even the ocean could give back to me my vocation for dreaming with my eyes open: I used that up in Amirbar and received nothing in return.

Estaba escrito que esto tenía que sucederme. A mí y a nadie más. Hay cosas que nunca aprendo. Su presencia acumulada, en el curso de la vida, es lo que los necios llaman destino. Pobre consuelo.

The cats of Istanbul," explained the Gaviero, "possess absolute wisdom. They exercise complete control over the life of the city, but they are so prudent and secretive that the inhabitants are still not aware of the fact.

He was a hostage of the void

Bana gelen haberlerde ?rma??n büyük k?sm?n?n ta s?radaÄŸlar?n?n eteÄŸine kadar mavnayla gitmeye uygun olduÄŸu söyleniyordu.

So many moments of irritating, wearisome disgust are returned to us years later by memory as splendidly happy episodes. Nostalgia is the lie that speeds our approach to death.

Weather is a purely personal matter. There is no such thing as a climate that is cold or hot, good or bad, healthy or unhealthy. People take it upon themselves to create a fantasy in their imagination and call it weather. There's only one climate in the world, but the message that nature sends is interpreted according to strictly personal, non-transferable rules.

Me intriga sobremanera la forma como se repiten en mi vida estas caídas, estas decisiones erróneas desde su inicio, estos callejones sin salida cuya suma vendría a ser la historia de mi existencia

La lectura obligada es nefasta. Lean por placer, tengan una profunda sospecha.

Porque la muerte, lo que suprime no es a los seres cercanos y que son nuestra vida misma. Lo que la muerte se lleva para siempre es su recuerdo, la imagen que se va borrando, diluyendo, hasta perderse, y es entonces cuando empezamos nosotros a morir también.

Miraba a los ojos de su interlocutor, pero no era a él a quien miraba. Es decir, más que mirar parecía estar buscando, con secreta y paciente astucia, ese otro ser que nos acompaña siempre y que únicamente sale a la superficie cuando estamos solos, para entregar ciertos mensajes, disolver ciertas frágiles certezas y dejarnos en el desamparo de inconfesables perplejidades...

2There is no greater thing in life than that secret sense of harmony that unites us briefly with the great mysteries of others and allows us to travel alongside them for part of the way.

Meditar el tiempo, tratar de saber si el pasado y el futuro son válidos y si en verdad existen, nos lleva a un laberinto que, por familiar, no es menos indescifrable. Cada día somos otro, pero siempre olvidamos que igual sucede con nuestros semejantes. En esto tal vez consista lo que los hombres llaman soledad. O es así, o se trata de una solemne imbecilidad.

Había algo en ella de aparición inconcebible que no puede decirse con palabras y sólo conociéndola lograría explicarse la desmesurada fortuna que fue estar a su lado y la tortura inaudita que ha sido perderla.

Bir kad?na yalan söylediÄŸiniz zaman kimsesiz ve bir bahanesi olmayan o çaresiz çocuk oluyoruz yeniden. Kad?n t?pk? bitkiler gibi, t?pk? orman?n f?rt?nalar? gibi, t?pk? sular?n girdaplar? gibi bizi en karanl?k semavi tasar?lar ve niyetlerle besliyor. Bunu baÅŸtan bilmek iyidir. Tersi sözkonusuysa y?k?c? sürprizlerle kar??laÅŸaca??z demektir.

Some things come too soon and others come too late, but we only find out when there's nothing to be done, when we've already bet against ourselves.

There is no greater thing in life than that secret sense of harmony that unites us briefly with the great mysteries of others and allows us to travel alongside them for part of the way.

We said it really wasn't very late, that we were listening to him with growing interest. The bottle of bourbon was empty. I brought another, along with more ice, and we asked the Gaviero to continue his story. On summer nights in California, time stretches like an elastic, compliant material, perfect for hearing the confidences of someone who had a store of tales that could lead us from one marvel to another until dawn.