schri kvnst schri vnd klag dich ser din begert iecz niemen mer

[unntertitel]

When I was eleven and Juliet eight years of age, a cousin of mine, much older than either—he seemed to us a man—took great notice of my playmate; he called her his bride, and asked her to marry him. She refused, and he insisted, drawing her unwillingly towards him. With the countenance and emotions of a maniac I threw myself on him—I strove to draw his sword—I clung to his neck with the ferocious resolve to strangle him: he was obliged to call for assistance to disengage himself from me. On that night I led Juliet to the chapel of our house: I made her touch the sacred relics—I harrowed her child’s heart, and profaned her child’s lips with an oath, that she would be mine, and mine only.

Mary Shelley, Transformation

[unntertitel]

If someone asks me, “Why do you write?” I can reply by pointing out that it is a very dumb question. Nevertheless, there is an answer. I write because I hate. A lot. Hard.

William Gass, The Art of Fiction No. 65

[unntertitel]

Getting even is one great reason for writing.

William Gass, The Art of Fiction No. 65

[unntertitel]

This distressed me, for it reminded me of my father trying to arrange my life without regard for what would make me happy; my life was a business transaction and was to be handled efficiently. These people treated Emilia in the same manner, and so I felt protective toward her. She radiated pleasure and contentment during dinner, however; if that is indeed how her parents managed her life, she either did not mind it as I did, or hid her resentment much better than I could. I doubted it was the latter. She was simply more at peace in the world than I was.

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

I slowly strolled one side of the hall and was dazzled by the number of gentlemen and even ladies ogling me, to the point of ignoring the transvestite ballet taking place in the center of the room.

I was treated as if I were an exotic feathered bird, and Roderigo was being subtly congratulated for having tethered me.

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

“If I handle myself well, I might start a mania for swarthiness among Venetian dandies,” I said sardonically.

“I am not remotely entertaining,” I assured him. “But it sounds as if you are, so I will willingly get drunk with you. As long as you get a little sun on your face. I cannot have a serious conversation with a man so pale. Roderigo, my friend, you look like a prostitute.”

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

Father, having read it, did not look impressed or even interested. My stomach clenched a little. Somehow, I thought my transformation would have effected a transformation within him too. But he was the same cold man who did not know quite what to do with this extra son he’d spawned. “I am glad,” he said, “that you have redeemed the memory of your brother’s life. You were worthy of that task, from all that I have read in reports home from your instructors. Indeed, your gun-master seems to think you have some kind of genius.”

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

“From now on,” he informed us, resuming the quiet tone, “you will listen and attend me without my having to shout at you. It is a waste of my energy to shout. I am here to make you expend effort, not the other way around, is that clear? Say yes, Captain, if it is.” “Yes, Captain!” we all shouted in unison. “Don’t yell at me,” he said calmly.

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

About a dozen galleons sat moored in there; they looked like sparrows in an enormous puddle, so vast was the basin.

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

The state-sponsored Artillery School, I learned, had once been based in the campo of Santa Barbara, Barbara being the patron saint of things that explode.

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

“It’s not stealing,” I reminded him. “It’s borrowing things under a false pretense, but you’re returning all of it. It’s not stealing, it’s lying.” “Why must I do all the lying, then?” “Because you are an heir,” I explained patiently, brushing aside my envy of this title. Drawing on what I had observed passing between my father and my eldest brother, I explained, “Heirs must be able to lie convincingly, so that when they are grown men, they will be able to operate smoothly in good society. This is important practice for you. There is no need for me to learn to lie. I would not rob you of an opportunity to practice an important skill that will be valuable to you when you’re a great Venetian merchant.”

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

They called me “honest Iago” from an early age, but in Venice, this is not a compliment. It is rebuke. One does not prosper by honesty. One does not rise in the social ranks. One does not curry favors. Honesty causes upset, and Venice is serene. The Serene Republic. It says so right there on the seal of state, which I could read when I was two, or so claimed the governess who struggled to keep up with my precociousness.

Nicole Galland, I, Iago

[unntertitel]

Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. O, thou the earthly author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate Doth with a twofold vigor lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armor with thy prayers, And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat And furbish new the name of John o’ Gaunt, Even in the lusty havior of his son.

Shakespeare, Richard II

[unntertitel]

Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb, That metal, that self mold that fashioned thee Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father’s death In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy father’s life. Call it not patience, Gaunt. It is despair. In suff’ring thus thy brother to be slaughtered, Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee.

Shakespeare, Richard II