143
" In Chloe, a great city, the people who move through the streets are all strangers. At each encounter, they imagine a thousand things about one another; meetings which could take place between them, conversations, surprises, caresses, bites. But no one greets anyone; eyes lock for a second, then dart away, seeking other eyes, never stopping.
A girl comes along, twirling a parasol on her shoulder, and twirling slightly also her rounded hips. A woman in black comes along, showing her full age, her eyes restless beneath her veil, her lips trembling. At tattooed giant comes along; a young man with white hair; a female dwarf; two girls, twins, dressed in coral. Something runs among them, an exchange of glances link lines that connect one figure with another and draws arrows, stars, triangles, until all combinations are used up in a moment, and other characters come on to the scene: a blind man with a cheetah on a leash, a courtesan with an ostrich-plume fan, an ephebe, a Fat Woman. And thus, when some people happen to find themselves together, taking shelter from the rain under an arcade, or crowding beneath an awning of the bazaar, or stopping to listen to the band in the square, meetings, seductions, copulations, orgies are consummated among them without a word exchanged, without a finger touching anything, almost without an eye raised.
A voluptuous vibration constantly stirs Chloe, the most chaste of cities. If men and women began to live their ephemeral dreams, every phantom would become a person with whom to begin a story of pursuits, pretenses, misunderstandings, clashes, oppressions, and the carousel of fantasies would stop. "
― Italo Calvino
147
" Daqui a dizer que o dragão é a psicologia, não custa um passo: mais ainda, é a psique, é o fundo obscuro de si mesmo que são Jorge enfrenta (...) Soam as trombetas e os tambores, é uma execução capital a que viemos assistir, a espada de são Jorge está suspensa no ar, todos nós temos o fôlego suspenso, estamos a ponto de compreender que o dragão não é apenas o inimigo, o diverso, o outro, mas somos nós, é uma parte de nós mesmos que devemos julgar. "
― Italo Calvino , The Castle of Crossed Destinies
150
" Era l' alba quando disse. -Sire, ormai ti ho parlato di tutte le città che conosco.
- Ne resta una di cui non parli mai.
Marco Polo chinò il capo.
- Venezia, - disse il Kan.
Marco sorrise. -E di che altro credevi che ti parlassi?
L' imperatore non battè ciglio. - Eppure non ti ho mai sentito fare il suo nome.
E Polo: - Ogni volta che descrivo una città dico qualcosa di Venezia.
- Quando ti chiedo d' altre città, voglio sentirti dire di quelle. E di Venezia, quando ti chiedo di Venezia.
- Per distinguere le qualità delle altre, devo partire da una prima città che resta implicita. Per me è Venezia.
- Dovresti allora incominciare ogni racconto dei tuoi viaggi dalla partenza, descrivendo Venezia così com'è, tutta quanta, senza omettere nulla di ciò che ricordi di lei.
L' acqua del lago era appena increspata; il riflesso di rame dell' antica reggia dei Sung si frantumava in riverberi scintillanti come foglie che galleggiano.
- Le immagini della memoria, una volta fissate con le parole, si cancellano, - disse Polo - Forse Venezia ho paura di perderla tutta in una volta, se ne parlo. O forse parlando d' altre città, l'ho già perduta a poco a poco. "
― Italo Calvino , Invisible Cities
157
" [The Great Khan] said: 'It is all useless, if the last landing place can only be the infernal city, and it is there that, in ever-narrowing circles, the current is drawing us.'
And Polo said: 'The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live everyday, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space. "
― Italo Calvino , Invisible Cities
159
" His trees were now hung all over with scrawled pieces of paper and bits of cardboard with maxims from Seneca and Shaftesbury, and with various objects; clusters of feathers, church candles, crowns of leaves, women's corsets, pistols, scales, tied to each other in certain order. The Ombrosians used to spend hours trying to guess what those symbols meant: nobles, Pope, virtue, war? I think some of them had no meaning at all but just served to jog his memory and make him realize that even the most uncommon ideas could be right. "
― Italo Calvino , The Baron in the Trees