One, None and a Hundred-thousandThis is the house where I was borne; in a particular year, month and day. Topographically speaking, the length, width, and number of windows are the same for everyone; and the same the year, the month and the day in which I was borne  does result from this that all of you make the same impressions and ideas about me and my house? You, who live in a cottage, find my house a palace; you, the one with awful taste, you will find it vulgar and indecent  each of you will judge it according to your reality Pirandello, I chose this passage belonging to Luigi Pirandellos book, One, no one and a hundred thousand to start with considering it a linkage between the above stated work and the present paper. Thereby, the multiple meanings and faces that can be attributed to each person or object, isnt only the idea after which the book was built on, but the current paper represents my personal view, the way I understood the authors message, and the subject of the book, after processing it according to my experiences and reality.
One, No One and One Hundred Thousand
At first he only notices small differences in how he sees himself and how others do; but his self-examination quickly becomes relentless, dizzying, leading to often darkly comic results as Vitangelo decides that he must demolish that version of himself that others see. It arrives at the most extreme conclusions, the farthest consequences. The terrible honesty of the novel and of its protagonist has, with time, become all the more desirable and impelling. Vitangelo has been vindicated. Luigi Pirandello — was an Italian novelist, short-story writer, and playwright.
physicist Luigi Palmieri, in Vesuvius lava). *founder and Pirandello's novel on foundational crisis of human identity in XXth century, One Hundred Thousand: metaphor of number of BSM models on the market. • One: .. dreams-car.com dreams-car.com
the magic path of intuition pdf download
It hurts me a little, when I take hold of it. I was twenty-eight years old; and up to now, I had always looked upon my nose as being, if not altogether handsome, at least a very respectable sort of nose, as might have been said of all the other parts of my person. So far as that was concerned, I had been ready to admit and maintain a point that is customarily admitted and maintained by all those who have not had the misfortune to bring a deformed body into the world, namely, that it is silly to indulge in any vanity over one's personal lineaments. And yet, the unforeseen, unexpected discovery of this particular defect angered me like an undeserved punishment. It may be that my wife saw through this anger of mine; for she quickly added that, if I was under the firm and comforting impression of being wholly without blemishes, it was one of which I might rid myself; since, just as my nose sagged to the right—. Yes, there was something else! Something else!