Sfortunatamente o fortunatamente? Per questo motivo, dovrebbe essere sempre ben commentato, specialmente se tu o qualcun altro ha bisogno di leggere e aggiornare il codice tra sei mesi o un anno. Probabilmente sto dimenticando un mucchio di altre ragioni. Idealmente, ogni set di regole CSS dovrebbe essere preceduto da un commento stile C che spiega il ruolo di quel blocco. Questo commento contiene anche spiegazioni, in una lista numerata, riguardo parti specifiche del set di regole.
Non esiste la troppa documentazione. Quando commenti parti specifiche in Sass, usa commenti inline piuttosto che il blocco stile C. A casa non mettiamo tutti i nostri fogli di carta in una scatola. Sentitevi liberi di adattare o modificare completamente la soluzione proposta, in modo da poter ottenere un sistema che fa al caso vostro. Anche qui CSS si rivela un bel casino [necessaria citazione]. Non vogliamo aver a che fare con megabyte di codice CSS.
Ad esempio, una form di ricerca potrebbe essere considerata come un componente. Potrebbe essere riutilizzabile in diverse posizioni, in diverse pagine, in diverse situazioni. Il componente non dovrebbe dipendere dalla sua posizione nel DOM footer, sidebar, contenuto principale…. Suggerisco di tener sempre presente questo paradigma. I componenti dovrebbero essere idealmente descritti ciascuno nel loro file. Lo stile descritto in ciascuno di questi file dovrebbe solo includere:.
Bisogna escludere gli stili come ad esempio i colori, le ombre, le dichiarazioni del font, il background etc. Grazie a David Khourshid per aver dato una mano in questa sezione. In pratica si hanno tutti i file parziali dentro sette cartelle differenti e un singolo file al livello root di solito chiamato main. Questo viene compilato in un singolo foglio CSS. Se si usano solo sporadicamente, meglio farle vivere nei selettori che le usano. Contiene tutti i moduli specifici come uno slider, un loader, un widget, e via dicendo. A seconda del processo di deploy, questi file possono essere richiamati indipendentemente nella pagina, piuttosto che essere raccolti col resto del foglio di stile in un unico file.
Vedete voi. Ci sono molti diversi modi per lavorare bene coi temi. Il bisogno di questa cartella dipende dal progetto. Tutte le variabili globali, le funzioni, i mixin e i placeholder dovrebbero essere messi qui dentro. La regola vuole che questa cartella non produca una singola linea di CSS quando compilata. Qui ci sono solo Sass helper. Quando si lavora in un progetto grande, con molte utility astratte, sarebbe buono raggrupparle per argomento piuttosto che per tipo.
Ogni file contiene tutti gli helper come variabili, funzioni, mixin e placeholder. Il file principale Main, spesso chiamato main. Secondo questo metodo, il file Main dovrebbe rispettare queste linee guida:. Se utilizzate invece node-sass, potete fare affidamento o direttamente a Node. Non penso che ci sia bisogno di introdurre il Responsive Web Design ora che lo si trova dappertutto. Penso che sia giusto dire che le media query non debbano essere legate a specifici dispositivi. Le media query dovrebbero occuparsi delle diverse dimensioni dello schermo.
Una media query si applica fino a che il design non si rompe e subentra la media query successiva. Ci sono molti modi per farlo e devo ammettere che sono un grande fan delle mappe di breakpoint lette da una funzione getter. Totalmente vero. Ci permettono di riutilizzare un valore senza doverlo copiare e incollare ogni volta. Ci permettono di dire addio al cerca e sostituisci o alla sostituzione manuale. A differenza di altri linguaggi, CSS non implementa uno scope. Per questo motivo, dobbiamo fare attenzione ai possibili conflitti quando aggiungiamo variabili.
Una nuova variabile dovrebbe essere creata solo quando sono validi i seguenti criteri:. Dalla versione 3. La documentazione parla di oscuramento della variabile globale. Fondamentalmente la sovrascrive momentaneamente solo per lo scope locale. Il flag! Quando si definisce una variabile fuori da un selettore, un mixin o una funzione, il flag!
Ci sono molti vantaggi ad usare le mappe invece che variabili distinte. Per esempio, date un occhiata al seguente codice Sass:. Giusto per ricordarlo, con questa direttiva possiamo dire a Sass di stilare un elemento A esattamente come se corrispondesse ad un selettore B. Potrebbero essere padri, nonni, ecc….
Bisogna sempre cercare di definire le relazioni per mezzo dei placeholder e non attraverso i selettori reali. Per ereditare gli stili, usate extend solo se la. Per esempio: un. Pensate alla mediaquery come ad un altro vincolo. Ci sono diverse opinioni riguardo i benefici e i problemi di extend al punto che molti sviluppatori, incluso me, raccomandano di non usarlo affatto. Per riassumere: consiglio di usare extend solo per mantenere le relazioni tra selettori.
Se invece condividono delle regole non correlate tra loro, un mixin potrebbe fare al caso vostro. Un grazie a David Khourshid per il suo aiuto ed esperienza in questa parte. Sono la chiave per ottenere componenti riusabili e fedeli al DRY. Possono anche accettare argomenti, proprio come le funzioni. Costruire un Mixin estremamente potente con un sacco di logica dentro potrebbe sembrare una buona idea, ma saremmo di fronte ad un caso di sovra-ingegnerizzazione, una malattia di cui molti sviluppatori soffrono.
Ad esempio, il micro-clearfix hack di Nicolas Gallagher merita di esser messo senza argomenti in un Mixin. Un altro esempio valido potrebbe essere un Mixin per impostare la grandezza di un elemento, definendo width e height allo stesso tempo. Non hanno quindi bisogno di alcun parametro o hanno dei valori di default che non necessitano alcun passaggio di argomenti. In questi casi, possiamo tranquillamente omettere le parentesi quando li richiamiamo. Ma non vogliamo certo farlo. Ad esser precisi, le istruzioni condizionali esistono principalmente per le librerie e i framework.
Comunque, se ti trovi nella situazione di averne bisogno, per favore rispetta queste linee guida:. Prima di usare un iteratore, bisogna essere sicuri che questo abbia un senso, e che risolva effettivamente un problema. Non usatelo. Sass, infatti, ha tre direttive custom per stampare gli errori nel sistema di output standard CLI, compiling app… :.
Vi lascio indovinare quale. Prendete ad esempio questa funzione di Sass-MQ , che prova a convertire un valore in px in em. Gli errori, diversamente dagli avvisi, fanno in modo che il compiler vada avanti nel suo lavoro. Quando possibile, meglio provare un workaround sul problema e mostrare un avviso. Ad esempio, diciamo che si vuol costruire una fuzione getter per accedere ai valori di una map specifica. Sviluppato da Chris Eppstein , uno dei due principali designer di Sass. Per rendere il design consistente e uniforme a tutte le dimensioni, usiamo una specie di griglia per impaginare gli elementi.
Per evitare di riscrivere griglie costantemente, alcune menti brillanti hanno reso riutilizzabile il loro sistema di griglie. Mettiamo le cose in chiaro: non sono un grande fan dei sistema di griglie. Esatto, mai. Fortunatamente, le raccomandazioni di SCSS-lint sono molto simili a quelle descritte in questo documento. Per configurare SCSS-lint secondo queste linee guida, vi raccomando il seguente setup:. Se si desidera collegare SCSS-lint al vostro processo di build di Grunt, sarete felici di sapere che esiste un plugin Grunt chiamato grunt-scss-lint.
Inoltre, se siete alla ricerca di un applicazione che funzioni in modo pulito con SCSS-lint e simili, i ragazzi di Thoughtbot Bourbon, Neat… stanno lavorando a Hound. Di seguito trovate quindi un riassunto. And clouds marshal in from the South Side.
And I swear the lights click on at this exact moment. Every pigeon stands still. Every Toyota. I send you my message by archangel—Honey, between us we could choke this man before the courtesy patrol arrives to collect his cart. In reality, his wife dragged him [away, and we stood shaking in the light of the all-night super [market until the archangel released Chicago and carried us home. Mi chiedo dove si nasconda: in un prefabbricato a Wantagh?
Una rimessa a [Old Wesbury?
Sembra che dica egr o neee, ma si capisce lo stesso, e tu lo freddi con quello sguardo assassino, lo sguardo da te-lo-firmo-col-sangue-in-tasca-ho-un-coltello, e la moglie lo trascina via per la manica come una ragazzina tremolante. E le nuvole scendono in marcia dal South Side.
Solo le bandierine e gli striscioni del parcheggio scricchiolano nel [vento. Ti mando un messaggio via arcangelo: Amore mio, tra tutte [e due questo qua lo strozziamo prima ancora che arrivino i [commessi a ritirargli il carrello. Strontium in my breast milk, that onion- skin glint on the freshest salami.
Radiation bubbles beneath the skin of five-legged calves, poor sucking orphans of cold war. What did Nostradamus say, scary sights filled to the brim with neon, about the balding spot of the man upstairs, a whirling insomniac? Hey, radiation bubbles beneath the skin in Batavia, top quarks and a boson so wraithlike and belligerent they claim a small bang might sicken the Earth with neon.
Malata di indeterminatezza, come filtra la luce, ispessisce il sangue con il neon. Lo stronzio nel latte del mio seno, quella pellicola lucida sul salame freschissimo. Bolle di radiazioni sotto la pelle dei vitelli dalle cinque zampe, miseri orfani lattanti della guerra fredda.
Come aveva detto Nostradamus, visioni paurose ricolme di neon, sulla calvizie incipiente del vicino del piano di sopra, un eterno insonne a molla? Baba Ganouj — mistura mediterranea di ceci e nebbia.
She strapped her back to a stump and every time the river washed over her she stayed alive against the ground like Fay Wray. Her heart was as red as a fontanel. Her voice hovered like a ghost above the river. There is no curve here, she said, only the fog at right angles. She blew from the kitchen in a puff of condensation. There was a tree to prop herself against, the tree she named [Euphrates, Queen of Fog. The King of Fog—Bear Mountain. Fog thinning—Bones of a woman. She walked straight into it as she would walk into heaven, if heaven were in the palms of her hands, if her hands were big as barn doors and heaven were spelled F-O-G.
The Night of the Forest Ghosts run through me and keep running—down to the river for a drink, up a hollow tree. Touched like this, I am nevertheless clothed and breathing, opaque and pounding with blood—and when the ghosts hang their slips in the black oaks I call out. Leaves float down and cover my feet. Ghosts sit in the trees videotaping.
Spiders spin lace around my breasts. Aveva un cuore rosso come una fontanella cranica. La sua voce vagava come uno spettro sul fiume. Niente curve qui, disse, solo gli angoli retti della nebbia. Re della Nebbia- Bear Mountain. Le foglie scivolano a coprirmi i piedi. Gli spettri siedono tra gli alberi, fanno riprese. I ragni mi intessono pizzi sui seni. All around us: deer shit and the dampened opinions of dead people.
We walked past the graves with rain on our faces. Grass grew in sheets down the hills and rainwater glossed the marble. Is the body unclosed as the bowl in the ocean is unclosed, or is the enclosed body unclosed in the ocean of the soul, I persisted, the bowl in the sea, the body in the sea of the soul? They buried Hansberry on a hillside on Croton-on-Hudson beside white people and a river plunging south. We searched for her for an hour in the rain, my lover and I, wishing for slickers and luck and long lives to come.
It was I who found her and shouted to my lover, who leapt to me from among the dead, her body aslosh with joy. Tutto attorno a noi: merda di daino e le opinioni tiepide dei morti. Cam- minavamo tra le tombe, la pioggia sulla faccia. La mia amata mi disse: Gocciolina, conca-nel-mare, piccola cercatrice di tombe. Avalos fu pubblicato postumo nel Prima, quando ero bambina, a matita su piccoli, misteriosis- simi quadernetti, poi, cercando faticosamente di stare al passo con i tempi, sul suo computer, ma sempre comunque immerso in un mondo solo suo, fatto di ricordi, di musica, di libri, di odori, sen- sazioni, meditazioni, fantasie Quindi, primo rimedio alla crisi di pessimismo, ovvero reperimento di un qualche motivo a questi scritti, a che non restino cianfrusaglie da buttare: tranfusione in essi di immaginari colloqui in vesperi di maggio, con persona cara, di generazione successiva.
E dirle queste poche cose qui nel piccolo ambito di casa. Ai miei cari, quando e se vorranno leggerle. Tanto, a dirle, lo ripeto, mi diverto. Registrare noi stessi. Anthony and, farther away, the tolling of the cathedral bell, swollen and heavy, rose and fell livid in the twilight like over a medieval city depopulated by the plague. In January, however, in one of its icy and very limpid nights, an echo of footsteps lost in the alleys gave him a shiver and trepidation as for an impending peasant revolt, signaled by distant calls under the moon and certain flashes like flaming torches moving on the roofs.
Which ended precisely that very night in that inn, under very mysterious circumstances, as we shall see. And without you, with- out your fanciful reframing of the memories of the small square, very little is left to be said about it, having remained so silent in the night, with the moon now swallowed by the clouds, under a foreboding of rain, or maybe of snow, with three foolish beanpole streetlamps and the gurgling gasps of the fountain. What was striking about it was the contrast between the be- nignly quiet atmosphere that all in all prevailed there — that inn, the small bell tower, the stone fountain in the middle, and all around honest two-storey houses, a garden wall and a few small shops — and the massive and almost truculent presence of a large building that closed off the north side in front of the inn.
Tale sua funzione di baluardo si notava particolarmente in certe mattinate di solicello invernale, dopo una notte di vento e di tempesta. Un vecchio era venuto a prendere il sole, con la sedia confidenzialmente appoggiata al muro del palazzo. Beaten as it was by the wind, it seemed like the last warrior amidst a cowardly population left to face the mountains on the horizon under their gray banners of clouds.
Its role as a bulwark was particularly noticeable on certain winter mornings under a pale sun, after a night of wind and storm. It seemed then that the big edifice would be dozing on the square, restoring itself after the battle just ended, whose signs were still evident on the walls at the back, still black with moisture, like weapons that a sleepy squire had not had time to clean. Almost a murky dream, the dripping of an eave and the creaking of a skylight brought to mind the fury of the gusts and the roar of the rain that had raged until dawn.
An old man had come to enjoy the sun, with the chair familiarly resting on the wall of the building. But then that scene was suddenly shaken by an engine that was furiously roaring, with vibrations of glass and sheet metal and clouds of bluish smoke.
Del controllo sui costumi e com- portamenti dei concittadini avevan fatto una religione: con i suoi dogmi, le sue liturgie e di cui il sancta sanctorum era il loro salotto e loro due i massimi pontefici. In the large house — three hundred and seventeen rooms, it was said, not counting the attics and the cellars — for many years there lived only two old ladies who, for their venerable age, were remembered that way forever: always minute, always hunched and dressed in black , always implacably gossipy.
They had made a religion of studying the customs and behavior of the townsfolks: with its dogmas, its liturgies, whose sancta sanctorum was their living room and the two of them the greatest pontiffs. It had been some time, however, that they had lost most of their charisma and power, since they had stopped going out and received as little as possible — the chairs, armchairs and sofas, due to the centuries- old work of woodworms, were reduced to mere images, ready to dissolve if you only looked at them — they could no longer find material for their plots and gossip, since all the people who had been the object of them had died one by one, so that even the memory of them was vanishing: therefore they, the only ones to talk about them, and with the ancient tenacity, seemed transmi- grated into a world of ghosts, having become ghosts themselves.
Towards evening their two silhouettes could be glimpsed behind the curtains, spying. And that was the only illuminated window in the enormous and taciturn building. But there had been times when the palace of Avalos was re- gurgitating with life, too much in fact, in a continuous and frenetic confusion, so frenetic and so unseemly that it overshadowed the traditions, the rank, and the name of the house itself.
And under the impetus of that frantic to-and-fro, forces and counter-forces, tensions, pressures, vortexes and contractions had developed in the very wall structure of the building so that it had become somewhat destabilized, and appeared ramshackle and twisted, and almost dilated in the effort to absorb the progressive waves of people that flowed in and out, with new rooms and wings added, verandas, lofts, elevations and jutting structures, which with subsequent stratifications had dissolved all traces of symmetry in a senseless agglomeration of staircases and stairs, accessways, ramps, connections, bridges and passageways, all under the twisting thrust of a gigantic spiral opening onto the great courtyard, towards a vertex that could be identified as a kind of attic suspended above, where a skylight would have been more reasonably expected.
In those times, right there at the top had lived a member of the family, seemingly a cadet; who, perhaps because of a wrong suf- fered, or as a protest against the scandalous turmoil on the lower floors, or for a general disgust of the world and the desire for quietness, or because he was too wise or a bit crazy, had reduced himself to living up there, in two or three small rooms, with a small shaded terrace in the middle of the roofs. No one knew what the name of the recluse was: some said don Alvaro, some don Alonso: in short a Spanish-sounding name.
It was so, thanks to these devices, developed over long years of preparation and testing Don Alfonso directing from above and the faithful secretary below taking care of the execution it was so that Don Alonso did not need anyone even to be buried. In fact, when the time came, he placed himself in the coffin and hung his right hand on the slip-knot of a flimsy string, which sure enough immediately broke off as soon as the arm became lifeless.
The limb fell on a lever and the springs clicked, the hatch opened and the coffin fell down along a very exact perpendicular line without the slightest pitch or roll, darting small and shiny among the immense walls up there that plunged towards the chasm of the courtyard and it was sucked into the concentric circles of the log- gias, verandas and balconies of the huge building. In the meantime there came the usual noises, calls and shouts, insults and implora- tions, rattle of doors, frantic footsteps on the stairs, pawing horses in the hallways, barrels rolling on cellar ramps, hammers and saws and drills, whipcracking and neighing and rugs and carpet beaters at the windows, and the shouts and vulgar songs of servants.
And in the meantime, from the first hatch that remained wide open up there, with the door still creaking and rocking in the void, when everything seemed finished, and only the wind on the side of the valley could be heard, down came a white silk handkerchief belonging to Don Alvaro, swaying softly and flitting here and there like a prissy butterfly, a token, so they said, of an ancient love.
The silence in the immense courtyard lasted a few minutes longer. Then there was the sound of a rocking horse; from another floor came the timid notes of a flute. Sulle alture calcinate di Las Navas de Tolosa in quello stesso momento le cicale strepitavano a centinaia.
Nella luce accecante si distingueva appena, al riparo di certi arbusti, disteso con la schiena contro una roccia, il pastore Juan Lopez, tredicenne, a guardia del suo gregge.
Neppure un respiro di vento, di tanto in tanto un belato. Juan Lopez aveva letto libri e molte cose gli nar- rava il maestro del villaggio, di mori e cristiani, di califfi e ferrigni re di Castiglia e di Leon. Time passed, perhaps decades or perhaps centuries, and little by little, while the grand palace year after year was depopulated and shrouded by silence, the envelope suspended over the depths of the courtyard, sheathed by cobwebs, took on the appearance of a kind of woolly bulb, an outgrowth that dust and the passing of time swelled more and more, and grew and condensed until it became completely unrecognizable, absorbed into the very structures of the building, identified with it.
Behind us we could feel the heat in the deserted square; only a thin strip of blue shadows stood out along the facade of the building. Here, inside the courtyard, the darkness of the walls absorbed an ambiguous smell of subsoil from the cellars. On the calcareous heights of Las Navas de Tolosa at that time the cicadas were droning by the hundreds. In the blinding light we could barely make out, under the shelter of certain shrubs, with his back against a rock, the shepherd Juan Lopez, thirteen, guard- ing his flock.
He had been there from the early morning, in perfect solitude: no encounter, no human voice. Not even a breath of wind, from time to time a bleat. And like every other day at that hour, a guitar was heard from the shadow of a courtyard; and dreams came through the desolate plains. Juan Lopez had read books and he had learned many things from the village schoolteacher, of Moors and Christians, of Caliphs and iron Kings of Castile and Leon. Il tono grave di questa frase fu accentuato da alcuni accordi di chitarra che provennero o dal giardino o da qualche altro luogo remoto del palazzo.
Likewise, in the courtyard of the palace of Avalos I suffered the same effect of refraction produced by inanimate things: stones in particular, having lived infinitely longer than us, are like sound- ing lines that have probed the dizzying depths of time. The serious tone of this phrase was accen- tuated by a few guitar chords that came from either the garden or some other remote place in the building.
In those days of summer we members of the gang were engaged in a double search: the way to the river and the Sebaldi crime. And there was, albeit vague and confused, the feeling that the two things were related. His research mainly focuses on the history of evolution in modern Italy, and he has co-translated with Nicoletta Pireddu a collection of writings by Scipio Sighele, entitled The Criminal Crowd and other writings on Mass Society, University of Toronto Press, Non temo i tanti nemici che ho anche fra voi.
Soffersi molto per le vostre ironie. La quiete che mi deriva da tali idee mi fa riconoscere volon- tieri che io vi diedi talvolta motivo a dubitare di me. Galli, an invincibly timid member who never took the floor, stood up and informed the assembly that when Dr. Menghi was on his deathbed, he begged Dr. Galli to read out his memoir about a new serum he had discovered. Galli blurted out. Read it!
Yet I feel at ease that my words are true and based on facts that were controlled with upmost accuracy. My memoir is not meant for the public, as its content could only be understood by a small circle of scientists. The solace I get from these thoughts makes me fain to recog- nize how I some times gave you reason to doubt me. Many years ago, with my youthful impetuousness, I declared the discovery of a serum meant to rapidly restore precocious youth to a withered organism.
Though it was later proven that this youth I granted did not last long. One of my adversaries, against whom I hold no grudge, although he wounded me with his malice, asserted that this apparent youth was nothing but a wild race to old-age. But everyone understood that I had discovered an incomparably su- perior stimulant to what was being used. In my hubris I refused to boast: for all the effort made to suspend aging, the result was not efficient enough, and here was just another stimulant with limited applications, effective only for organisms endowed with full vitality.
I bring this up because today I still adore that lovely discovery of mine, which abbreviated life but made it more intense. E mi sarebbe bastato! Lo conquistai da un animale longevo per eccellenza. I wrote about the first discovery because it is directly related to the topic of this memoir. My specific is in an entirely different category than alcohol. Alcohol slows down the replacement of matter, while mine precipitates it; alcohol hinders the functioning of the heart to the point of exhaus- tion, while my specific facilitates it so much that the entire organ- ism succumbs to it.
Take note: when the organ that is the source of life encounters no obstacles in an entirely vital organism, it defies the organism and kills it. Clementi helped me to construct this theory, which eventually buried my discovery. Actually - I openly admit - all the words are his. And this theory, or rather these words, necessarily led me to the antidote for the Menghi Alcohol. I had hoped to achieve an economy of the vital forces so that life would be immeasurably prolonged. That would have been enough for me! Life is no longer brief, not even for you! I implore you to con- sider for a moment: if one of the inventors of those terrible, modern explosives had indeed hesitated to share this invention with our immature humanity, would you understand why?
For me, this concern was exacerbated by a promise I gave to the dearest person I know while on her deathbed. After reading this memoir, you will certainly understand the importance of my discovery and studies, but also the reason for my concerns. The specific - you must have already imagined - was a type of organotherapy. I extracted it from an animal know for its longevity par excellence. Do not think that it is a certain fresh-water fish whose life - as it has been verified in certain parks - lasts beyond three centuries. Non sanno prendere ma afferrano, non sanno lasciare ma gettano.
Hanno inoltre la veglia e il sonno intensi e brevi. La mia scoperta era fatta o, meglio, il mio lavoro era terminato. Trovo fra le mie carte il bollettino su cui registrai la mia scoperta. Porta la data del cinque Maggio. Yet again it was the Menghi Alcohol that provided me with the elements of these ascertained observations. The animals and humans who were injected with that abbreviator of life had rapid, nay violent movements.
Furthermore, they were mostly awake with only bouts of brief, intense slumber. Their day lasts twelve hours or less, rather than twenty-four. The perennial animal I speak about has a day that lasts a year I know where your thoughts are headed, but they mislead you , its move- ments are slow, secure and intentional. Even if you were to guess which animal this is, you would never discover the organ I used to extract the serum. In our organism there is a mitigator!
When I conjured up the theory for the antidote to the Menghi Alcohol, I remembered having once observed a vivisection, the consequences of which I did not immediately com- prehend. Then I performed an experiment that luminously confirmed my idea. I deprived an animal of that organ and poisoned it with morphine. I concluded: The mitigating organ is blind like all of our other organs and its function - only beneficial as long as it is surrounded by vital organs - becomes an abbreviator of life when this vitality is about to cease. Although weakened, it halts the impulse that would have just been barely sufficient.
My discovery was complete or, better yet, my work was finished. The rest had to be left to the most hidden functions of nature. If my Annina I named my serum in honor of my mother performed like thyroxin or oxytocin, which both enter the blood-stream and act on the source without needing to pass through the organ whose insufficiency they compensate for, then my moderator would prob- ably no longer relieve, but impede the effort.
Then, and only then, would there result the vital economy I sought. Among my papers, I found the report on my discovery. The date was May 5th. Il ricordo del grande dalle sessanta pulsazioni normali mi diede una speranza che mi rese addirittura malato. Le prove mi costarono molto e il mio piccolo bilancio ne fu subito dissestato. Mia madre! Io non so se alcuno di voi abbia conosciuta mia madre. Scusate se vi parlo di mia madre, ma, come vedrete, essa ap- partiene al mio argomento.
Mio padre tenne per lunghi anni a Venezia un negozio di droghe molto importante. The memory of that great man with sixty regular pulsations gave me so much hope that made even me sick. What if more than the elongation of life I had actually achieved something else, something greater yet!
The experiments required a great deal from me, and my tiny budget was suddenly unbalanced. These studies kept me from diligently dedicating myself to my practice, so my richest clients abandoned me after the failure of the Menghi Alcohol, which was presented by some of my colleagues as the rabbles of a madman.
These difficulties led me to confide in my mother. My mother! This much I know: if one of you has ever seen her, if only for a brief moment, you will never forget her. Tall, straight, very black eyes, sweet and imperious at the same time, a youthful complexion in contrast to a full head of white hair, but a pure white, like fresh snow. Pardon me if I speak to you about my mother but, as you can see, she is crucial to my discussion. For many years my father owned an important pharmacy in Venice.
At the age of thirty-five, after five years of marriage, he gave in to a wicked lifestyle. He had mistresses, he gambled and - I believe but am not certain - he succumbed to the vice of drinking. Fortunately, my mother was immediately aware of his transfor- mation. As long as he was alive, it was a daily struggle against him, first of all because he always wanted more money, and then it was a struggle against the impatient creditors who came from all over to claim their money, and against the lenders who no longer wanted to giv him credit.
Morto mio padre la bella figura si eresse di nuovo per curvarsi solo nel singhiozzo frequente. Ed essa parlava con- tinuamente del marito morto avendo dimenticato di lui i cinque o sei ultimi anni. Essa accumulo in commercio in breve tempo una piccola fortuna apprendendo da se tutti quei complicati particolari che costituiscono la scienza commerciale. Poi oltre agli affari ebbe sempre da attendere anche alla casa.
Io che la conoscevo commerciante fino al midollo, calcolatrice come un banchiere, astuta e previdente, esitante e dubbiosa ad ogni decisione che potesse implicare la diminuzione di un utile oppure una piccola perdita, fui stupito e commosso di vederla accogliere immediatamente la mia proposta. She claimed to be the unhappiest woman up until the last day of her pitiful existence.
Now that my father was dead, this beautiful woman stood erect once again, succumbing only to occasional bouts of crying. And she constantly spoke of her dead husband, forgetting his last five or six years. In a short time, she accumulated a small fortune in the market, learning all of those complicated particulars of commercial science on her own. I do not believe it often happens that a woman, who is not of a certain culture, has such ease in understanding everything. Then, she always had to do something for the business and in the house. She granted me help with astounding readiness.
I, who knew her as a business-woman down to the marrow, a calculator like a banker, astute and provident, hesitant and dubious in every deci- sion that could implicate a decrease in profits or even a small loss, I was amazed and touched when she immediately welcomed my proposal. She quickly calculated: she could give me a monthly stipend of lire for three years, exactly the amount I required. Neither to me, nor to her was the probability of having to re- open a pharmacy seen as a severe threat. Prima non aveva conosciuto che agita- zione e stanchezza; ora invece soffriva oltre che di agitazione e di stanchezza anche di noia.
Erano molti anni che non si lavorava insieme. Questo metodo ebbe delle conseguenze non so se buone o cattive pel mio avvenire. Before she only knew agitation and fatigue, but now she suffered from boredom, in addition to agitation and fatigue. Running a household and ordering a servant around was not enough for someone like my mother, who ran a business with two or three employees and various laborers. The household was very closely supervised and had but one defect: order was discussed too often.
Whoever sold us the meat or the vegetables had to stay alert because everything that came into the house was weighed, examined, and sifted through, and mamma found a way to work in both the small casetta and the large business. About my mother, I must still say that she was a big egoist with an egoism that only I understood. And when I was a boy, for my sake and with great effort, she tolerated someone being in our back room; however, her antipathy seeped out all too clearly, so that soon enough everyone abandoned me and I was left to enjoy the back room and afternoon snack alone.
She reserved her smiles and courteous words for clients; I knew completely different smiles and words and I felt her insincerity. When she felt inclined to advise me to sacrifice my glory and the results from my studies in favor of the others whom she did not love, I had to obey because the reasons which induced her to such a request had to be rather strong. From the day I asked for her assistance, she requested to work with me. We had not worked together for many years. She taught me to read in her study, and I remember how she was ready to help and teach me only then to abandon me, running off to her affairs.
I think I derived from it a fever- ish yearning to put every one of my ideas into action, a yearning that can sometimes push me to premature communications, but which all at once forces me to specify synthetically my ideas while others lose time in error and illusion. I understand that the idea is immediately realized in the laboratory, but in an imprecise form. I admit a semblance between the evolved animal and the unevolved one, but I do not admit likeness. My experiments with the Annina are enough to establish this difference.
Nel primo caso si avrebbe una morte per esaurimento; nel secondo per abbru- ciamento. E avete osservato come il cervello funzioni egregiamente in individui il cui cuore abbia declinato? Non avevo oramai che da dire una parola e mamma pensava il mio pensiero. Avevo bisogno di una tale collaborazione! I only had to produce a sufficient quantity of the Annina in order to proceed with subsequent experi- ments. The greater part of our time was dedicated to discussing and clarifying the theory.
She understood easily and quickly, though I had to use the least scientific language possible to make her better understand. Indeed, I resorted to a language which science refutes. Animal life is comparable to boiling a cauldron of water placed on a fire whose fuel is limited. This boiling can end because the fuel is entirely depleted or because the water evaporates. In the first case, one would have death by exhaustion; in the second, combus- tion. Now, it is evident that animal life is assured by an excess of heat- I mean to say that the equilibrium between the water and fire is not perfect and so the life could last longer if the boiling was diminished.
For example, it is evident that the heat released by our body is a loss. How much of this loss is necessary to protect our periphery? To be more precise: it is noted that usefully employing the force manifested and therefore lost by the heart in twenty- four hours could lift 4, kilograms one meter high. Quite the excess! How much of this force is necessary to nourish our life and how much is lost or is harmful?
The future of hygienic science lies in the solution to such a problem. Nevertheless, I know that this force is excessive and I know it, first of all, for the fact that many individuals whose manifest heat was inferior proved to be stronger than those with a fast-pulse and heat seeping from every pore. The latent force is the only force.
What we perceive with our senses or measure with our instruments is the loss of force. And have you observed how the brain functions egregiously in individuals with an abated heart? I have found lucid, nay acute, minds in people whose pulse was too weak and too slow to be measured.
I gave up everything for the pleasure of making my mother feel the greatness and originality of my idea. By then I only had to say one word and mamma could understand my thought. I needed such a collaboration! Usually when I work, I get lost in my rever- ies. I stop to contemplate the eventual consequences of my ideas, I caress them, I admire my future success and I forget the work necessary to realize them. This was not possible with my mother. She brought the systems which had greatly benefitted her in busi- ness to the laboratory. Mi arresto a contemplare le ultime conseguenze delle mie idee, le accarezzo, ne ammiro il futuro suc- cesso e oblio il lavoro necessario per realizzarle.
Essa portava seco in laboratorio i sistemi che tanto le avevano giovato negli affari. Con un decigrammo nel sangue si uccideva un cane giovine e forte in quaranta secondi. Dapprima mia madre non voleva credere si trattasse di una morte reale.
La rassicurai dicendole che il caso era stato previsto. Il siero di cui avevo a servirmi doveva essere ben altrimenti elaborato di questo. Essa rimase commossa e per lungo tempo dubbiosa. Preparai un coniglio con iniezioni seguite per varii giorni di dosi minime di Annina. Ne raccolsi il sangue che, steriliz- zato, considerai quale il siero voluto. Svegliai mia madre alla mattina per presentarle il frutto del mio lavoro. Mia madre guardava invece la povera bestiola aspettandosi di vederla morire.
A decigram in the blood killed a young, strong dog in forty seconds. At first, my mother did not want to believe the death had happened. She stroked the dog, trying to make it come back to life. The serum I wanted to use eventually had to be much more developed than this one. She was excited and, for a long time, dubious. That pushed me to work feverishly to remove any such doubt from her as soon as possible.
I prepared a rabbit for successive injec- tions of minimum doses of Annina over several days. I drew some blood, which, when sterilized, I believed to be the right serum. I did all of this work gingerly in order to surprise my mother. Thus commenced that memorable day of June 2nd with a triumph I have never had before in my life. I woke up my mother in the morning to show her the fruits of my labor.
She got dressed in a flash and followed me to the labora- tory where the rabbit soon received the first-ever injection of An- nina. The fact that it actually lived made my mother flush with ad- miration. What was only the application of my serum to a process invented by others arose more wonder in her than my own original idea. Only from this was her lack of scientific preparation apparent.
The injected rabbit exhibited various phenomena. It ceased to eat for many hours, and when it did eat, after being placed among and confronted with the other rabbits, it appeared to be less vora- cious and slower in its movements. Except when it shook, it was evidently taken by a kind of stupor. Il mio faceva un balzo formidabile quando era minacciato la prima volta; era invece incapace di farne un se- condo se minacciato immediatamente una seconda volta. Cadeva subito nel menzionato stato di stupefazione e si lasciava afferrare trasalendo inerte.
Anche arrivando a constatare in essi quel mutamento di vita consono - se- condo le mie teorie - al loro mutamento fisico, non mi sarei trovato avanzato di molto. Solo la constatazione di un mutamento di tutta la funzione vitale - mutamento che in gran parte doveva sfuggire alla verifica mediante istrumenti - poteva giovarmi. Non ebbi esitazioni!
Quante volte non vengono lesi dal suono e dalla luce? Dei sentimenti poi non parlo. It suddenly fell into the aforementioned state of stupor and allowed itself to be caught, wincing inertly. In the dining room that evening, we continued to chat about the Annina. Where would those animal experiments lead me? Even if I managed to verify in them a change of life that was consonant with their physical change - according to my theories - I would not end up advancing a great deal.
Only observing a change of the entire vital functions - a change that largely escapes instrumental verification - could help me. I did not hesitate! That same evening I would inject the Annina into my own veins. The liveliest hope was reborn in me. There are not many examples in medicine of subjective obser- vation, but there are some and they are quite strange. The famous Napolitano doctor with nephritis was one of the first advocates of the milk cure.
From the beginning, he subjectively intuited its beneficial effect, and later he proved it by objectively verifying the decrease of albumin. Now, more than any other method, could sub- jective experimentation provide a conclusive outcome verifying an intensity of life which, in my opinion, must primarily demonstrate a decrease in the vivacity of the senses and sentiments. Because, if the Annina demonstrated the efficacy I hoped for, it would decrease what I call attrition.
Now, what is our greatest attrition that squan- ders our strength without us realizing it? Our sense of perception is sometimes not enough - I recognize this - but it mainly errs for too much sensibility. How often is it ruined by sound or light? Thus I do not speak about sentiments. The excessive joys and the excessive anxieties of the mind decimate humanity.
In my head I anticipated the effect the Annina would have on me. I figured that the Annina must become the drug for intellectu- als, not for textbooks. I have already said how I believe in the neces- sity of a manifestly strong heart for brain performance. Ne adoperai una dose molto maggiore di quella usata pel coniglio che non mi parve abbastanza anninizzato.
Devo confes- sarlo: Mettendo il liquido nel tubetto mi tremava la mano e il cuore mi batteva. Ma non seppi at tendere. Presi un foglio di carta, lo posi sul tavolo da notte assieme ad una matita per fissare subito sulla carta le osservazioni fatte. Una calma as- soluta e nel mio organismo. Mi sento agitato. Ore 10 e Ho paura di perdere i sensi. Not long after locking myself in my bedroom, I injected myself with the Annina.
I used a much larger dose than what I used on the rabbit, which did not seem to be anninized enough. I must confess that while I pulled the liquid into the syringe, my hand was trembling and my heart was beating wildly. That courageous inventor who passed 2, volts through his heart in order to prove the harmlessness of alternating current, must have had similar feel- ings.
Perhaps I should have acted more prudently by postponing the experiment until the following day and noting my discovery in the meantime, because one of my colleagues would experiment later. I put a piece of paper and pencil on the bedside table so I could immediately record my observations. There is an abso- lute clam in my organism.
My pulse is eighty-four and is clear. The injection point on my arm burns. My temperature is I can count the heartbeats in my ear while resting on the pillow and I can determine that it is synchronized with the pulse. An actual circulatory perturbation is excluded. A storm has erupted in my organism and seems to be surging. It began with a deafening noise inside my ears, so much so that it appeared to be external.
At first, it was a burst, as if the air pressure outside exploded eight panes of glass in my bedroom with a single strike. And now it continues, deafening and threatening, as if something enormously intricate were approaching. Watching the gas-flame next to my bed reflect motionless in the mirror was enough for me to understand that all the noise was inside me, and not external. I was terrified to remember the enormous dose of Annina I had injected. With a very lucid state of mind, I scolded myself. Professor Arrigoni was right to describe me as such a quantitative thinker who would quickly measure an abyss by throwing myself in.
Ricordo con terrore la dose enorme di Annina che mi sono iniettata. Mi faccio dei rimproveri con mente lucidissima. Che avessi la febbre? Voglio provare. Non arrivai a provare il polso. Ora am- monta a 66; 18 pulsazioni meno di iersera. Rileggo la descrizione fatta del malessere da cui fui colto iersera. Ma come completarla? Ricordo che prima mormorai: - Collasso! Non ricordo altro! Quando ritornai in me ero mutato del tutto. Polmone e cuore dovevano lavorare perfet- tamente.
Sentivo ancora un certo peso alle gambe e mi parevano sempre lontane. Could I have a fever? I want to check. I reread the de- scription of the malaise that took over me last night. How imperfect it is! But how to finish it? The terminology of medical science is too impoverished to be able to express my subjective impressions! My unease increased so much that I had to abandon the pencil; I stretched out on the bed and lost my senses. My lips no longer held back the saliva running down my cheeks, and I was suddenly aware that my respiration was short and precipitous.
The bedroom seemed completely dark. Only a yellow plate reflected on my retina: the gas-flame, from which no light irradiated and at which I think I must have stared unceasingly, because even now the poor, miserable thing remained imprinted on me, like it was before, cold and small, my only point of contact with the external world. I was dying! Down there, my legs seemed distant, well outside of the bed, and were enormously heavy. I remember nothing else! This morning I realized I must have gone through a delirious attack, because the blankets and pillow were violently strewn about.
When I returned to consciousness, everything had changed. It seemed I had come out of a benign attack of pneumonia; the euphoria was absolute. The lungs and heart had to be working perfectly. I felt neither my breath nor my heartbeat. Yet I felt a certain weight in my legs and they always seemed distant. That certainly meant a weakening of the senses. I must have smiled from the satisfaction of being so exactly right. Touching my bare feet with my hand took considerable effort. They were warm. But immediately I deduced that this act had done nothing but verify the difference in temperature between the two extremi- ties.
I searched for the thermometer. It had to be somewhere in the bed. Debbo aver sorriso dalla soddisfazione di aver pensato tanto esatta mente. Fu con isforzo che toccai con una mano i piedi nudi. E stetti immoto senza fare alcuno sforzo per liberare il mio letto dalle altre scheggie di vetro che dovevano trovarvisi.
Mi baloccai per lungo tempo immobile con le mie idee. Ero certo che avrei potuto balzare dal letto e correre a fare le mie annotazioni. Ma non mi mossi. Non lo guardai e mi limitai di consta- tare che la notte era alta. Esso sentiva debolmente i rumori che io pro ducevo movendomi nel letto. Passai ad analizzare la mia forza visiva. Mentre al momento di svenire avevo visto la fiamma di gas quale un pezzetto di metallo lucido, ora scorgevo perfetta- mente che la fiamma era una fiamma ma pure mi parve non illu- minasse a sufficienza la stanza.
Nello specchio la fiamma si rifletteva attenuata di poco. I was regretful. But if I had found it whole, would I have used it? Instead I stayed motionless without making any effort to clean the shards of glass from the bed, which had to be around somewhere. For a while I frittered the time away, immobile, with only my ideas.
My thought lingered on the annotations and I lingered on the thought of what I would write if I were to write it. For now, I would look at the clock to establish how much time I had spent unconscious. For me to raise my head just beyond the bedside table in order to see the clock would have been enough, but I did not make any such effort. I rested supine, blithe in the confirmation of one of my hopes for my Annina: I did not impetuously rush into action and I was proud about the idea that by now I was able to measure an abyss without throwing myself in.
Would I have measured it before? Thinking about the annotations pestered me, and without any intention to reach for the pencil and take it in hand, I analyzed my senses. My hearing certainly appeared weaker. It feebly sensed the noises I made from moving around in the bed. I then analyzed my vision. The reflected flame attenuated slightly in the mirror.
Exhausted from the effort, I closed my eyes and relaxed. The effort required to perceive an object was largely compensated for by the acuteness of vision. I could analyze the slightest hue of color. Until then a gas-flame was only yellow, with some red and blue reflection at the base-in short, foolishly yellow. Now I saw it was not so and in the flame I discovered more dispa- rate gradations of those various tones. The flame spoke! I hoisted my neck up a bit and stared into the darkness, attempting to see the wardrobe, which had to be next to the mirror.
Fino ad allora una fiamma di gas era stata per me gialla con qualche riflesso rosso e azzurra alla base; stupidamente gialla insomma. Quella fiamma par lava! Come tutti gli oggetti sono belli se visti con una forza che superi almeno quella di chi li guar da per moversi fra di loro! E lo rividi sempre fosco e oscuro quando abitava una stanza mai rischiarata nella nostra prima abi- tazione a Venezia; una sola finestra cui il sole non arrivava mai causa la stretta calle su cui guardava. Mastodontico armadio che ricettava allora serio, serio i miei primi vestitini corti.
Riposai di nuovo dello sforzo mentre il mio pensiero non cercava riposo. The wardrobe was an ancient chest, mas- sive, baroque, from a distasteful era, its luster faded, on the sides there were two pretentious mullions from whose gable-ends hung grape clusters.
I never saw it like that before and, being an object I had had since childhood, I was astonished to see it in such a sur- prisingly strange way. As all objects are beautiful when viewed with an effort that exceeds the basest attempt from those who wish simply to move among them! Although it was the first time I remembered looking at that wardrobe with such an eye, my vision of that mo- ment was compressed with all of the visions I had had of that wardrobe since childhood. And I see it again, always grim and obscure, when it inhabited a room in our first home in Venice that was never cleared out.
A single window where the sun never shined through because of the small alley over which it peered. That mam- moth wardrobe which dependably held my first baby clothes. Inside was a strong odor of lavender that mamma loved so much. More than once I saw it outdoors on a barge looking shabbier than usual, various split grapes in its clusters. Those grapes were still missing, but compared to the rest of the wardrobe, the wounds of yellow wood now appeared as if they were bleeding.
They had not healed, but even time had matched their colors. I rested again from the effort while my thoughts sought no such rest. All that I had expected was coming true: diminished life could better concentrate in certain directions. The physiologists from a century ago said: half or more of the human body is dead. Perhaps I augmented the dead portion, but I intensified the life of the living portion. Even my legs were more alive, if I wanted. Directing my attention thus, my sensibility sud- denly increased and, without looking, only from sensation did I clearly feel the gentleness of the soft wool.
Dawn came in the meantime. Io forse aumentavo la parte morta ma intensificavo la vita della parte viva. Subiva ora una luce antipatica, cor- rotta dal giallo della fiamma a gas. Poi a me parve di non arrivare ad addormentarmi. Nello stesso tempo il pensiero a tanto lavoro che dovevo compiere mi faceva soffrire. Eppure dormivo. In undici ore constatai in me tre stadii.
II primo di cui non so la durata era stato contrassegnato dalla perdita totale dei sensi. Soon it became the most important aspect in the room. How beautiful it was, waking up in this manner under the red curtains. Tired, I tried to rest. My last visual impression was once again the wardrobe, which had seen so many dawns without ever being so intensely observed. Now it suffered from an unpleasant light, corrupted by the yellow of the gas-flame. Then I was unable to fall asleep. I conjured up future experiments to perform.
First, I had to see if the Annina was compounded in our organism, and whether it were possible to undertake treatment with daily microdoses where the dosage would be measured sim- ply by personal observation. Then, I had to investigate whether one might develop a dependence on the Annina, and whether this dependence would eliminate the violent attack or maybe even all effects. At the same time, I suffered from the thought of all the work I had to do. And yet, I slept. As soon as my thoughts animated me, I was completely awake; the transition was so short.
Then I fell back into a torpor that was nothing but sleep, a long, long sleep, a half-vigil; the sleep of the animal who had provided the Annina. And I had known it, I felt the desire for the deepest, most restora- tive sleep, and it seemed that when I tried to approach something or someone, it only got further away. Over eleven hours, I noted three distinct stages. In the second, I had a very lucid mind but slow and pitiful movements; actually, I shall characterize them in this way: no perception without desire. I conclude: to enjoy the rest the Annina provides, it should have never been invented.
Then, even those truly imperfect annotations were interrupted. Nella notte intera deve aver persistito in me un offuscamento di coscienza. Qui anche queste annotazioni tanto imperfette sono interrotte. Egli si scalda anzi si scalmana per tutto e per tutti. E anche dopo egli diagnostica e studia e alma- nacca e assiste alle sezioni cadaveriche.
Clementi walked in with a suspi- cious look, which indicated that he was in possession of terrible news. He was stressed and irate because, as I later learned, he had beckoned me for more than half an hour. I was always somewhat distracted but never enough not to hear Dr. Since I will be dead when the public learns of my memoir, one can assume that Dr. Clementi will be long forgotten by then. His exuberance of life must make him go down the road much sooner than others who are endowed with more potent moderating organs.
He gets heated up, no, he gets enraged about everything and everyone. I know him well because for two years I worked as his secondary at the hospital. Those two years seem to have happened under a railway bridge on which boundless trains furiously come and go. How noisy that man is! Anyway, for him, every one of his patients is his own strange adventure affecting only him, and he talks, and talks, and talks endlessly about it. When he sees the patient on the first day, he immediately begins to diagnose, and he diagnoses the second day, the third day, and the fourth day until the patient either heals or dies.
And, even after, he diagnoses and studies and daydreams and attends the autopsy. If his diagnosis was right, he talks about it so that it seems he was more surprised than everyone else. One can say that he is not a braggart only because he is a scientist. The house doctor trembles when Dr. Clementi comes as a consultant. He certainly does not intend to do harm to anyone, but seeing as every patient of his has at least three diseases, it is unlikely that the house doctor had spoken about all three. Quando entra in una casa quale consulente, il medico di casa trema.
E pensai di raccontargli della mia scoperta e di pregarlo di fame una prova su lui. Contemporanea mente ebbi varie idee. Pareva tentasse di consolarmi prima di darmi una cattiva nuova. Aveva alzate le braccia e poggiate le mani sulle mie spalle per segnare un abbraccio che causa la differenza di statura non era possibile.
Hai un sonno tu! Mia madre e il suo e il mio affetto erano dimenticati del tutto ed io non ricordavo altro che quel cuore colpito da esuberanza di vita. My first thought was: providence delivers me the person who needs the Annina more than anyone. And I thought about informing him of my discovery and to beg him to try it himself.
Coincidentally, I had various ideas. Among them, trying the An- nina on a fitful lunatic would be more conclusive proof than trying it on Dr. Clementi…but just barely. With an effort that must have expended a great deal, he suppressed his anger toward me for not having responded earlier. He assumed an air of commiseration that did not foretell anything positive. It appeared as if he were trying to console me before delivering the bad news. The small, nervous man almost leaned on me.
He raised his arms and placed his hands on my shoulders to indicate a hug, which was not possible due to the difference in stature.
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Quite the sleep you had! Clementi spoke about a passive aneurism and gave me hope he himself did not share, how was it that I still lingered on my creation? Half an hour later she had the attack. Clementi chimed in. Vedendomi impallidire aggiunse con una carezza paterna: - Non perdere il coraggio. Io piuttosto che fare una dia- gnosi ho sentito il pericolo -. Poi ricordo che oltre che suo cliente ero suo collega.