Clifford D. Simak citáty

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Clifford D. Simak

Datum narození: 3. srpen 1904
Datum úmrtí: 25. duben 1988
Další jména: 克利福德·D·西馬克, 克利福德·D·西马克,کلیفورد سیماک,Клиффорд Саймак

Reklama

Clifford Donald Simak byl přední americký spisovatel vědecko-fantastické literatury a novinář. Za svůj život byl oceněn třemi cenami Hugo, jednou cenou Nebula a celou řadou dalších cen; v roce 1977 byl dokonce vyhlášen Asociací amerických sci-fi a fantasy spisovatelů třetím velmistrem žánru. Jak prozrazuje jeho jméno, jeho dědeček z otcovy strany se jmenoval Šimák a pocházel z Čech – sám Simak pak své jméno vyslovoval jako „Sim'k“.

Do žánru sci-fi vstoupil povídkou The World of the Red Sun . Pak se odmlčel, ale znovu začal publikovat se začátkem zlaté éry sci-fi a fantasy, která se datuje k roku 1937, a to v časopise Astounding Stories Johna W. Cambella. Zpočátku napodoboval jiné spisovatele, ale velmi rychle našel svůj vlastní styl, díky kterému byl čtenáři vyhledáván a zároveň oceňován profesionálními asociacemi. Publikoval kromě vědecko-fantastické literatury i válečné, westernové a detektivní povídky. Podle vyjádření kolegů a přátel to byl vzácný člověk plný opravdové lidskosti a přátelství.

Jeho velmi jednoduchý a vybroušený specifický styl mu vynesl označení pastoralista, protože hrdiny jeho knih bývají často obyčejní lide z idylického venkova. Jeho typičtí mimozemšťané se chovají zdvořile a rádi se s hlavním hrdinou dají do řeči během procházky po kopcích. Dílo samotné se pak často zaměřuje na poněkud hlubší otázky naší existence a přes svou nenáročnou a čtivou formu čtenáře nutí k zamyšlení. Neustále se v něm objevuje zejména téma varování před zotročením moderní technikou a snaha po udržení lidské pospolitosti.

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Citáty Clifford D. Simak

„What your friend told you of his seeing of the time wall is true, Henry said in Boone's mind. I know he saw it, although imperfectly.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: What your friend told you of his seeing of the time wall is true, Henry said in Boone's mind. I know he saw it, although imperfectly. Your friend is most unusual. So far as I know, no other human actually can see it; although there are ways of detecting time. I tried to show him a sniffler. There are a number of snifflers, trying to sniff out the bubble. They know there's something strange, but don't know what it is.

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„The wolf was smiling at him, and he had never known that a wolf could smile.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: He stirred again, halfway between sleep and wakefulness, and he was not alone. Across the fire from him sat, or seemed to sit, a man wrapped in some all-enveloping covering that might have been a cloak, wearing on his head a conical hat that dropped down so far it hid his face. Beside him sat the wolf — the wolf, for Boone was certain that it was the same wolf with which he'd found himself sitting nose to nose when he had wakened the night before. The wolf was smiling at him, and he had never known that a wolf could smile. He stared at the hat. Who are you? What is this about? He spoke in his mind, talking to himself, not really to the hat. He had not spoken aloud for fear of startling the wolf. The Hat replied. It is about the brotherhood of life. Who I am is of no consequence. I am only here to act as an interpreter. An interpreter for whom? For the wolf and you. But the wolf does not talk. No, he does not talk. But he thinks. He is greatly pleased and puzzled. Puzzled I can understand. But pleased? He feels a sameness with you. He senses something in you that reminds him of himself. He puzzles what you are. In time to come, said Boone, he will be one with us. He will become a dog. If he knew that, said The Hat, it would not impress him. He thinks now to be one with you. An equal. A dog is not your equal...

„One was tempted, Enoch thought, to say that this was as far as a tool could go, that it was the ultimate in the ingenuity possessed by any brain. But that would be a dangerous way of thinking, for perhaps there was no limit, there might, quite likely, be no such condition as the ultimate; there might be no time when any creature or any group of creatures could stop at any certain point and say, this is as far as we can go, there is no use of trying to go farther.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: A machine, a mechanism, no more than a tool — technological brother to the hoe, the wrench, the hammer — and yet as far a cry from these as the human brain was from that first amino acid which had come into being on this planet when the Earth was very young. One was tempted, Enoch thought, to say that this was as far as a tool could go, that it was the ultimate in the ingenuity possessed by any brain. But that would be a dangerous way of thinking, for perhaps there was no limit, there might, quite likely, be no such condition as the ultimate; there might be no time when any creature or any group of creatures could stop at any certain point and say, this is as far as we can go, there is no use of trying to go farther. For each new development produced, as side effects, so many other possibilities, so many other roads to travel, that with each step one took down any given road there were more paths to follow. There'd never be an end, he thought — no end to anything. Ch. 33

„The Hat replied. It is about the brotherhood of life. Who I am is of no consequence. I am only here to act as an interpreter.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: He stirred again, halfway between sleep and wakefulness, and he was not alone. Across the fire from him sat, or seemed to sit, a man wrapped in some all-enveloping covering that might have been a cloak, wearing on his head a conical hat that dropped down so far it hid his face. Beside him sat the wolf — the wolf, for Boone was certain that it was the same wolf with which he'd found himself sitting nose to nose when he had wakened the night before. The wolf was smiling at him, and he had never known that a wolf could smile. He stared at the hat. Who are you? What is this about? He spoke in his mind, talking to himself, not really to the hat. He had not spoken aloud for fear of startling the wolf. The Hat replied. It is about the brotherhood of life. Who I am is of no consequence. I am only here to act as an interpreter. An interpreter for whom? For the wolf and you. But the wolf does not talk. No, he does not talk. But he thinks. He is greatly pleased and puzzled. Puzzled I can understand. But pleased? He feels a sameness with you. He senses something in you that reminds him of himself. He puzzles what you are. In time to come, said Boone, he will be one with us. He will become a dog. If he knew that, said The Hat, it would not impress him. He thinks now to be one with you. An equal. A dog is not your equal...

„That is not what I said. I said the Highway of Eternity.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: Boone gulped and swallowed. He spoke to The Hat. "You said the Highway to Eternity?" That is not what I said. I said the Highway of Eternity. "Small difference," Boone told him. Not so small as you might think.

„How strange it is, he thought, how so many senseless things shape our destiny.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: How strange it is, he thought, how so many senseless things shape our destiny. For the rifle range had been a senseless thing, as senseless as a billiard table or a game of cards — designed for one thing only, to please the keeper of the station. And yet the hours he'd spent there had shaped toward this hour and end, to this single instant on this restricted slope of ground. Ch. 32

„I have tried at times to place humans in perspective against the vastness of universal time and space.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: I have tried at times to place humans in perspective against the vastness of universal time and space. I have been concerned with where we, as a race, may be going and what may be our purpose in the universal scheme — if we have a purpose. In general, I believe we do, and perhaps an important one. As quoted in the Associated Press obituary (27 April 1988)

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„The sun was setting, throwing a fog-like dusk across the stream and trees, and there was a coolness in the air.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: The sun was setting, throwing a fog-like dusk across the stream and trees, and there was a coolness in the air. It was time, I knew, to be getting back to camp. But I did not want to move. For I had the feeling that this was a place, once seen, that could not be seen again. If I left and then came back, it would not be the same; no matter how many times I might return to this particular spot the place and feeling would never be the same, something would be lost or something would be added, and there never would exist again, through all eternity, all the integrated factors that made it what it was in this magic moment.

„The people finally know.
They've been told about the mutants.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: The people finally know. They've been told about the mutants. And they hated the mutants. Of course, they hated them. They hated them because the existence of the mutants makes them second-class humans, because they are Neanderthalers suddenly invaded by a bow and arrow people.

„There is mystery here, but a soft, sure mystery that is understood and only remains a mystery because I want it so.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: There is mystery here, but a soft, sure mystery that is understood and only remains a mystery because I want it so. The mystery of the nighthawk against a darkening sky, the puzzle of the firefly along the lilac hedge. Chapter I (p. 6)

„I find it a most intriguing and amusing thing that it might be possible to package the experiences, not only of one's self, but of other people.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: I find it a most intriguing and amusing thing that it might be possible to package the experiences, not only of one's self, but of other people. Think of the hoard we might then lay up against our later, lonely years when all old friends are gone and the opportunity for new experiences have withered. All we need to do then is to reach up to a shelf and take down a package that we have bottled or preserved or whatever the phrase might be, say from a hundred years ago, and uncorking it, enjoy the same experience again, as sharp and fresh as the first time it had happened... I have tried to imagine... the various ingredients one might wish to compound in such a package. Beside the bare experience itself, the context of it, one might say, he should want to capture and hold all the subsidiary factors which might serve as a background for it — the sound, the feel of wind and sun, the cloud floating in the sky, the color and the scent. For such a packaging, to give the desired results, must be as perfect as one can make it. It must have all those elements which would be valuable in invoking the total recall of some event that had taken place many years before...

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„Space is an illusion, and time as well. There is no such factor as either time or space. We have been blinded by our own cleverness, blinded by false perceptions of those qualities that we term eternity and infinity.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: Space is an illusion, and time as well. There is no such factor as either time or space. We have been blinded by our own cleverness, blinded by false perceptions of those qualities that we term eternity and infinity. There is another factor that explains it all, and once this universal factor is recognized, everything grows simple. There is no longer any mystery, no longer any wonder, no longer any doubt; for the simplicity of it all lies before us...

„Ulysses, he thought, had not told him all the truth about the Talisman. He had told him that it had disappeared and that the galaxy was without it, but he had not told him that for many years its power and glory had been dimmed by the failure of its custodian to provide linkage between the people and the force.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: Ulysses, he thought, had not told him all the truth about the Talisman. He had told him that it had disappeared and that the galaxy was without it, but he had not told him that for many years its power and glory had been dimmed by the failure of its custodian to provide linkage between the people and the force. And all that time the corrosion occasioned by that failure had eaten away at the bonds of the galactic cofraternity. Ch. 30

„Somewhere, he thought, on the long backtrack of history, the human race had accepted an insanity for a principle and had persisted in it until today that insanity-turned-principle stood ready to wipe out, if not the race itself, at least all of those things, both material and immaterial, that had been fashioned as symbols of humanity through many hard-won centuries.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: That had not been the first time nor had it been the last, but all the years of killing boiled down in essence to that single moment — not the time that came after, but that long and terrible instant when he had watched the lines of men purposefully striding up the slope to kill him. It had been in that moment that he had realized the insanity of war, the futile gesture that in time became all but meaningless, the unreasoning rage that must be nursed long beyond the memory of the incident that had caused the rage, the sheer illogic that one man, by death or misery, might prove a right or uphold a principle. Somewhere, he thought, on the long backtrack of history, the human race had accepted an insanity for a principle and had persisted in it until today that insanity-turned-principle stood ready to wipe out, if not the race itself, at least all of those things, both material and immaterial, that had been fashioned as symbols of humanity through many hard-won centuries. Ch. 25

„Here was the very negation of life and motion, here was the stark, bald beginning when there was no life, nor even thought of life.“

— Clifford D. Simak
Context: As he looked, Sutton felt the cold hand of loneliness reach down with icy fingers to take him in its grip. For here was sheer, mad loneliness such as he had never dreamed. Here was the very negation of life and motion, here was the stark, bald beginning when there was no life, nor even thought of life. Here anything that knew or thought or moved was an alien thing, a disease, a cancer on the face of nothingness. Chapter XIX (p. 99)

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