It’s a good thing when a man is different from your image of him. It shows he isn’t a type. If he were, it would be the end of him as a man. But if you can’t place him in a category, it means that at least a part of him is what a human being ought to be. He has risen above himself, he has a grain of immortality.
Boris Pasternak (1890-1960) Russian poet, novelist, and literary translator
Doctor Zhivago [До́ктор Жива́го], Part 2, ch. 9 “Varykino,” sec. 4 [Yuri] (1955) [tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), US ed.]
(Source)
Alternate translations:
It’s a good thing when a man is different from your image of him. It shows he isn’t a type. If he were, it would be the end of him as a man. But if you can’t place him in a category, it means that at least a part of him is what a human being ought to be. He has a grain of immortality.
[tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), UK ed.]
It’s good when a man deceives your expectations, when he doesn’t correspond to the preconceived notion of him. To belong to a type is the end of a man, his condemnation. If he doesn’t fall under any category, if he’s not representative, half of what’s demanded of him is there. He’s free of himself, he has achieved a grain of immortality.
[tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010)]
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Usbek, it seems to me that we always judge things by secretly relating them to our own concerns. I am not surprised that black men envision the devil as being a brilliant white color, and that they picture their gods as being black as coal — nor that certain peoples picture Venus as having breasts that hang down to her thighs — nor that all idolaters have always pictured their gods in human form, ascribing to them all their own predilections. It has been well said that if triangles had a god, they would imagine him as having three sides.
[Il me semble, Usbek, que nous ne jugeons jamais des choses que par un retour secret que nous faisons sur nous-mêmes. Je ne suis pas surpris que les nègres peignent le diable d’une blancheur éblouissante et leurs dieux noirs comme du charbon ; que la Vénus de certains peuples ait des mamelles qui lui pendent jusqu’aux cuisses ; et qu’enfin tous les idolâtres aient représenté leurs dieux avec une figure humaine, et leur aient fait part de toutes leurs inclinations. On a dit fort bien que, si les triangles faisoient un dieu, ils lui donneroient trois côtés.]
Charles-Lewis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu (1689-1755) French political philosopher
Persian Letters [Lettres Persanes], Letter 59, Rica to Usbek (1721) [tr. MacKenzie (2014)]
(Source)
The triangles reference is often attributed directly to Montesquieu, though it's referenced here as having another origin. It is sometimes cited as a Jewish or Yiddish proverb.
Some early editions leave out the triangle metaphor altogether, thinking it alludes to the Trinity.
See also Voltaire.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:
It is my Opinion, Usbek, that we never judge of Things but with a private View to our selves. I am not surprised that the Negroes shou'd paint the Devil of the most glaring Whiteness, and their Gods as black as a Coal; that the Venus of some Nations shou'd have Breasts hanging down to her very Thighs; and lastly, that all Idolaters have represented their Gods with a Human Figure, and given them all their own Inclinations. It has been said with good Reason that if the Triangles were to make a God they wou'd give him three Sides.
[tr. Ozell (1736), No. 57]
It appears to me, Usbek, that we never judge of things but with a private view to ourselves. I do not wonder that the Negroes paint the devil in the most glaring whiteness, and their gods as black as a coal; that the Venus of some nations should be represented with breasts pendent to her thighs; nor indeed that all idolaters have made their gods of human figures, and have ascribed to them all their own passions.
[tr. Floyd (1762)]
It seems to me, Usbek, that our opinions are always influenced by a secret application to ourselves. I am not surprised that Negroes paint the devil with a complexion of dazzling whiteness, and their gods as black as coal; that the Venus of certain races has breasts that hang down to her thighs; and finally, that all idolaters have represented their gods in the likeness of men, and have ascribed to them all their own passions. It has been very well said, that if triangles were to make to themselves gods, they would give them three sides.
[tr. Davidson (1891)]
It seems to me, Usbek, that our judgment of things is always controlled by the secret influence they have had on our own actions. I am not surprised that the negroes paint the devil with a face of dazzling whiteness, and their gods as black as coal; that the Venus of certain tribes has breasts that hang down to her thighs; and, in fine, that all nations have represented their gods in the human form, and have supposed them to be imbued with their own passions. It has been very well said that if triangles were to make a god for themselves, they would give him three sides.
[tr. Betts (1897)]
It seems to me, Usbek, that we judge things only by applying them secretly to ourselves. I am not surprised that Negroes paint the devil in dazzling white and their gods in carbon black; or that the Venus of certain peoples has breasts that hang to her thighs; or, finally, that all idolaters have represented their gods in human shape and assign to them all their own attributes. It is well said that if triangles were to create a god, they would describe him with three sides.
[tr. Healy (1964)]
It seems to me, Usbek, that we never judge anything without secretly considering it in relation to our own self. I am not surprised that black men depict the devil as brilliantly white, and their own gods as coal-black, that the Venus of certain peoples has breasts that hang down to her thighs, and, in short, that all idolaters have depicted their gods with human faces, and have endowed them with their own propensities. It has been quite correctly observed that if triangles were to make themselves a god, they would give him three sides.
[tr. Mauldon (2008), No. 57]
Apparently, on the screen, I look tall, dark, and close to omniscient, issuing jeopardy-laden warnings through gritted teeth. And then they look at me [in person] and say, “Why, God, this kid is five-foot-five, he’s got a broken nose, and looks about as foreboding as a bank teller on a lunch break.”
Rod Serling (1924-1975) American screenwriter, playwright, television producer, narrator
Quoted in Anne Serling, As I Knew Him: My Dad, Rod Serling (2013)
(Source)
The reward for conformity was that everyone liked you but yourself.
Rita Mae Brown (b. 1944) American author, playwright
Venus Envy, ch. 15 (1993)
(Source)
Often paraphrased in the present tense: "The reward for conformity is that everyone likes you but yourself."
Too many of us look upon Americans as dollar chasers. This is a cruel libel, even if it is reiterated thoughtlessly by the Americans themselves.
Albert Einstein (1879-1955) German-American physicist
“What Life Means to Einstein,” Interview with G. Viereck, Saturday Evening Post (26 Oct 1929)
(Source)
This passage is not included in the chapter of George Sylvester Viereck, Glimpses of the Great (1930) which was built from this interview.
Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like paté.
Margaret Atwood (b. 1939) Canadian writer, literary critic, environmental activist
Negotiating with the Dead, ch. 2 “Duplicity: The jekyll hand, the hyde hand, and the slippery double” (2002)
(Source)
Usually directly attributed to Atwood, but she made it clear that it was not hers:
There's an epigram tacked to my office bulletin board, pinched from a magazine -- [the quotation]. That's a light enough comment upon the disappointments of encountering the famous, or even the moderately well-known -- they are always shorter and older and more ordinary than you expected -- but there's a more sinister way of looking at it as well. In order for the paté to be made and then eaten, the duck must first be killed. And who is it that does the killing?
There are some things a chappie’s mind absolutely refuses to picture, and Aunt Julia singing ‘Rumpty-tiddley-umpty-ay’ is one of them.
P. G. Wodehouse (1881-1975) Anglo-American humorist, playwright and lyricist [Pelham Grenville Wodehouse]
The Man with Two Left Feet (1917)
