Halldór Kiljan Laxness cytaty

Halldór Kiljan Laxness Fotografia
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Halldór Kiljan Laxness

Data urodzenia: 23. Kwiecień 1902
Data zgonu: 8. Luty 1998
Natępne imiona:Հալդոր Լաքսնես, هالدور لاکسنس

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Halldór Kiljan Laxness – pisarz islandzki, laureat literackiej Nagrody Nobla w 1955.

Chociaż urodził się w stolicy Islandii Rejkiawiku, to wychował się na farmie Laxness, od której wziął swój pseudonim artystyczny. W 1919 rozpoczął podróż po Europie , przeszedł na katolicyzm i osiadł w klasztorze w Luksemburgu. Rozczarowany ascetycznym życiem zwrócił się ku socjalizmowi. Odwiedził Kanadę, a potem USA, gdzie próbował sił jako scenarzysta w Hollywood. Za wyznawane poglądy komunistyczne groziła mu deportacja, wkrótce sam wyjechał do Niemiec. W 1955 otrzymał literacką Nagrodę Nobla, kilka lat później powrócił do kraju.

Laxness napisał 51 powieści. Był autorem licznych wierszy i artykułów prasowych. Stworzył między innymi:

cykle powieści z życia ludu islandzkiego: Salka Valka, Światłość świata, Niezależni,

trylogię historyczną Dzwon Islandii,

powieść nacjonalistyczno-pacyfistyczną Sprzedana wyspa: Powieść satyryczna ,

powieść o cechach realizmu magicznego Duszpasterstwo koło lodowca

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Cytaty Halldór Kiljan Laxness

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„His mother taught him to sing. And when he had grown up and had listened to the world's song, he felt that there could be no greater happiness than to return to her song. In her song dwelt the most precious and most incomprehensible dreams of mankind.“

—  Halldór Laxness
Context: His mother taught him to sing. And when he had grown up and had listened to the world's song, he felt that there could be no greater happiness than to return to her song. In her song dwelt the most precious and most incomprehensible dreams of mankind. The heath grew into the heavens in those days. The songbirds of the air listened in wonder to this song, the most beautiful song of life.

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„It's a useful habit to never believe more than half of what people tell you, and not to concern yourself with the rest. Rather keep your mind free and your path your own.“

—  Halldór Laxness
Context: It's a useful habit to never believe more than half of what people tell you, and not to concern yourself with the rest. Rather keep your mind free and your path your own.

„Never did these thanes of hell escape their just deserts.“

—  Halldór Laxness
Context: Never did these thanes of hell escape their just deserts. No one ever heard of Harekur or Gongu-Hrolfur or Bernotus being worsted in the final struggle. In the same way no one will be able to say that Bjartur of Summerhouses ever got the worst of it in his world war with the country's specters, no matter how often he might tumble over a precipice or roll head over heels down a gully - "while there's a breath left in my nostrils, it will never keep me down, no matter how hard it blows."

„Never do hymns seem so long as in the days of childhood, never is their world and their language so alien to the soul. In old age the opposite is true, the hours are then too short for the hymns.“

—  Halldór Laxness
Context: Never do hymns seem so long as in the days of childhood, never is their world and their language so alien to the soul. In old age the opposite is true, the hours are then too short for the hymns.

„Sighing, he became aware of his own insignificance in the midst of this infinite chorus glory and radiance; his whole consciousness dissolved into one sacred, tearful yearning to be allowed to be one with the Highest and be no longer any part of himself. He lay for a long time on the sand or on the grass, and wept tears of deep and fervent happiness, face to face with the inexpressible. "God, God, God!" he cried, trembling with love and reverence, and kissed the ground and dug his fingers into the turf.“

—  Halldór Laxness
Context: He was not quite nine years old, in fact, when he began to have spiritual experiences... he felt he saw God's image open before him. He felt the deity reveal itself in Nature in an inexpressible music, the sonic revelation of the deity; and before he knew it, he himself had become a trembling voice in a celestial chorus of glory. His soul seemed to be rising out of his body like frothing milk brimming over the edge of a basin; it was as if his soul were flowing into an unfathomable ocean of higher life, beyond words, beyond all perception, his body suffused by some surging light that was beyond all light. Sighing, he became aware of his own insignificance in the midst of this infinite chorus glory and radiance; his whole consciousness dissolved into one sacred, tearful yearning to be allowed to be one with the Highest and be no longer any part of himself. He lay for a long time on the sand or on the grass, and wept tears of deep and fervent happiness, face to face with the inexpressible. "God, God, God!" he cried, trembling with love and reverence, and kissed the ground and dug his fingers into the turf.

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