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Transcript of Zorba IO
Annemarie Raskin -But is not that, too, a form of slavery? To sacrifice oneself to an idea, to a race, to God? Or does it mean that the higher the model the longer the tether of our slavery? Then we can enjoy ourselves and frolic in a more spacious arena and die without having come to the end of the tether. Is that, then, what we call liberty? -No I don’t believe in anything. How many times must I tell you that? I don’t believe in anything or anyone; only in Zorba. Not because Zorba is better than the others; not at all, not a little bit! He’s a brute like the rest! But I believe in Zorba because he’s the only being I have in my power, the only one I know. Have you noticed, boss, everything good in this world is an inventionof the devil? Pretty women, spring, roast suckling, wine-the devil made them all! God made monks, fasting, chamomile-tea and ugly women pooh! -a beauty spot, from sprang sow-bristles, adorned her chin. She was wearing a red- velvet ribbon round her neck, and her withered cheeks were plastered with mauve powder. -But the atmosphere was troubled by the old siren’s sighs. Each New Year, she, too, had a little Doomsday of her own she looked back on her life, weighed it up and found it wanting. Beneath this old woman’s thinning hair, big cities, men, silk dresses, bottles of champagne and scented beards rose from the graves of her memory on all solemn occasions. -I consider it a deep disgrace to admit I’m getting on, and I do all I can to stop people seeing I’ve grown old: I hop about, dance, my back aches but I keep dancing. I drink, get dizzy, everything spins round, but I don’t sit down, I just act as if everything’s hunky-dory. -I’ve died it boss. Don’t get upset I dyed it because I had no luck with it vanity, by god! Do you know why she’s crying boss?” “No.” “Because she can see whats going on. If I was a painter of icons, I’d draw the Virgin without eyes, ears or nose. Because I’d be sorry for her. The ideas everything,” he said. “Have you faith? Then a splinter from an old door becomes a sacred relic. Have you no faith? The whole Holy Cross itself becomes an old doorpost to you. http://static.ddmcdn.com/gif/anti-aging-creams-1.jpg YOUTUBE