21
" All around were people such as the eternal petty bourgeois of all lands eyes with the instinctive hatred of the bandy-legged mongrel for a thoroughbred, beings that will ever remain a mystery to the masses, arousing both contempt and envy, creatures that can wade through blood without batting an eyelid and yet swoon at the screech of a fork across a plate, who will pull out a revolver at the slightest suggestion of a sneer yet calmly smile when caught cheating at cards, for whom vices, the very thought of which makes the ordinary citizen shudder, are commonplace and who would rather go thirsty for days than drink out of a glass another has used, who accept God as a matter of course and yet shut themselves off from Him because they find Him boring, who are considered hollow by people who crudely assume that what, in the course of generations, has become the essence of such creatures, is mere veneer and outward show; they are neither hollow nor the opposite, they are beings who have lost their souls and have therefore become the incarnation of evil for the multitude which will never possess a soul, they are aristocrats who would rather die than crawl to anyone, who, with unerring instinct, spot the plebeian within their fellow-man
and place him lower than the animals and yet fall down before him if he happens to be sitting on the throne, they are lords of the earth who can become helpless as a child at the slightest frown on the face of destiny, instruments of the Devil and at the same time his plaything. "
― Gustav Meyrink , The Green Face
26
" Una volta ho letto, non ricordo più dove, che agli oggetti antichi può legarsi una maledizione, uno scongiuro, un incantesimo, i quali poi vanno a colpire chi si mette in casa e custodisce simili chincaglierie. Sai forse che cosa inneschi, quando richiami con un fischio un cane randagio che ti viene incontro durante una passeggiata serale? Per compassione lo porti al caldo, nella tua stanza, ed ecco che, all'improvviso, dal suo pelo nero fa capolino il diavolo.
Io, pronipote di John Dee, sto forse vivendo ciò che accadde un tempo al dottor Faust? "
― Gustav Meyrink , Angel of the West Window
27
" Мы, люди, не знаем, кто мы есть. Самих себя мы привыкли воспринимать в определенной «упаковке», той, которая ежедневно смотрит на нас из зеркала и которую нам угодно называть своим Я. О, нас нисколько не беспокоит то, что нам знакома лишь обёртка пакета со стандартными надписями: отправитель — родители, адресат — могила; бандероль из неизвестности в неизвестность, снабженная различными почтовыми штемпелями — «ценная» или… ну, это уж как решит наше тщеславие. "
― Gustav Meyrink , Angel of the West Window