'In summer, the stars fell like crumbs, catching fire in flight and fizzling out in the meadows. On these occasions, he would go to those that had landed nearby, and he would lick them. The king tasted the salt of the stars.'
from 'The Weight of the Butterfly' by Erri De Luca (my translation)

The next time I see a falling star, I may forget to make a wish, but I'll remember its taste.

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'D'estate le stelle cadevano a briciole, ardevano in volo spegnendosi sui prati. Allora andava da quelle cadute vicino, a leccarle. Il re assaggiava il sale delle stelle.'
da 'Il peso della farfalla' di Erri De Luca

We say half-truths to make our lies more credible, but we are not kidding anyone - you can't split the truth. As this eloquent proverb reminds us:

'Half a truth is a whole lie.' Yiddish proverb

'Una mezza verità è una bugia intera.' proverbio Yiddish


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Not everything can (or should) be done over the phone. And this is why:

'The face is the index of the mind.' William Hogarth

'Il viso è l'indice della mente.' William Hogarth


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I try to remember this saying every time I receive advice or I am about to give it:

'No enemy is worse than bad advice.' Horace

'Nessun nemico è peggiore di un cattivo consiglio.' Orazio


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Anyone who has experienced how financial problems can undermine sentimental relationships will recognise the truth behind this saying.

'Love is sweet, but tastes best with bread.' Yiddish proverb

'L'amore è dolce, ma si assapora meglio col pane.' proverbio yiddish


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"Words should be weighed, not counted.' Spanish proverb

'Le parole dovrebbero essere pesate, non contate.' proverbio spagnolo


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'Coincidences are God's way of remaining anonymous.' Albert Einstein

'Le coincidenze sono il modo con il quale Dio rimane anonimo.' Albert Einstein


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'Women hold up half the sky.' Mao Zedong

'Le donne sorreggono metà del cielo.' Mao Zedong


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'The heart is half a prophet.' Yiddish proverb

'Il cuore è un mezzo profeta.' proverbio yiddish


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‘How is a road beaten down from the virgin snow?’
 
This is the question the writer Varlam Shalamov asks and answers in his tale, Through the Snow*, based on his experience as a political prisoner in the infamous Kolyma gulag.
 
‘One person walks ahead, sweating, swearing, and barely moving his feet. He keeps getting stuck in the loose, deep snow. He goes far ahead…(selecting) points in the snow’s infinity to orient himself – a cliff, a tall tree. He steers his body through the snow in the same fashion that a helmsman steers a riverboat from one cape to another.
 
Five or six persons follow shoulder-to-shoulder along the narrow, wavering track of the first man. They walk beside his path but not along it. When they reach a predetermined spot, they turn back and tramp down the clean virgin snow which has not yet felt the foot of man. The road is tramped down. It can be used by people, sleighs, tractors. If they were to walk directly behind the first man, the second group would make a clearly defined but barely passable narrow path, and not a road. The first man has the hardest task, and when he is exhausted, another man from the group of five takes his place. Each of them – even the smallest and weakest – must beat down a section of virgin snow, and not simply follow in another’s footsteps. Later will come tractors and horses driven by readers, instead of authors and poets.’
 
Shalamov knows how to tell a story, but here he gives us something even more precious - a most eloquent way to describe how a writer and his writing become mainstream.
 
 
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*from Kolyma Tales by Varlam Shalamov (translated by John Glad)