Quotes About Interpretation

I don't mean to mock the gods, but Freyja seems to me a bitch. - Hjalti Skjeggjason

epresentative

Queréis decir que no hay diferencia entre estar despierta o dormida? ?Básicamente, no, pues siempre estamos en un estado de aprendizaje. Creemos que soñar dormidos es diferente porque a menudo esos sueños nos proporcionan mensajes y símbolos que no son comprensibles. Pero, considerad vuestro estado de vigilia, ¿no os encontráis con frecuencia envuelta en sucesos que no son comprensibles? ?le contestó Merlín.

La gente siempre me busca para que interprete sus sueños nocturnos. Si interpretasen también sus sueños de vigilia habría menos confusión en sus sueños nocturnos y serían capaces de entenderlos.

There must of course be a relationship between translating and making poems of your own, but what it is I just don't know.

The question is how to bring a work of imagination out of one language that was just as taken-for-granted by the persons who used it as our language is by ourselves. Nothing strange about it.

Linguistic philosophers continue to argue that probably music is not a language, that is in the philosophical debate. Another point of view is to say that music is a very profound language.

Poetry is what is lost in translation. It is also what is lost in interpretation. That little poem means just what it says it means, nothing less but nothing more.

It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment it strikes him that he has taken an immortal wound—that he will never get over it.

Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

I regard the Bible, especially the Old Testament, the same as I do most other ancient books, in which there is some truth, a great deal of error, considerable barbarism and a most plentiful lack of good sense.

Life is not the same to all—to some a blessing, to some a curse, to some not much in any way.

Everything in nature tells a different story to all eyes that see and to all ears that hear.

If the book and my brain are both the work of the same Infinite God, whose fault is it that the book and the brain do not agree?

Like most writers, I tend to find out what I feel on a subject by writing about it. It is how we interpret the world, how we make sense of it.

She looked away from him, drawing hard on her Rothman's; when her mouth puckered into hard little lines around the cigarette, it looked like a cat's anus.

Matthew would not like this, she had said. He would have liked it even less had he know how much Strike had liked it.

It was difficult for him to decide whether she was sincere, or performing her own character; her beauty got in the way, like a thick cobweb through which it was difficult to see her clearly.

when her mouth puckered into hard little lines around the cigarette, it looked like a cat's anus.

So I've been forced to the conclusion," said Strike, "that the Bombyx Mori everyone's read is a different book to the Bombyx Mori Owen Quine wrote.

Na ja, bei ihm heißt Chard 'Phallus Impudicus', und ..." [...] "Er heißt 'unzüchtiger Pimmel'?

Judging by the lopsided way she was hunched, with one hand buried deep under the lapel of her coat, Strike deduced that he had saved her by grabbing a substantial part of her left breast.

It was far from the first time he'd encountered the tendency to believe the dead would have wanted whatever was most convenient to the living.