Food for Thought

Below is the part that first endeared Zorba to me as I read the book.

'Look, one day I had gone to a little village. An old grandfather of ninety was busy planting an almond tree. “What, granddad!” I exclaimed. “Planting an almond tree?” And he, bent as he was, turned round and said: “My son, I carry on as if I should never die.” I replied: “And I carry on as if I was going to die any minute.” Which of us was right, boss?’ […]

I kept silent. Two equally steep and bold paths may lead to the same peak. To act as if death did not exist, or to act thinking every minute of death, is perhaps the same thing. But when Zorba asked me the question, I did not know.

‘Well?’ Zorba said mockingly. ‘Don’t worry, boss, you can’t argue that out. Let’s talk of something else. Just now I’m thinking of the chicken and the pilaf sprinkled with cinnamon. My brain’s steaming like the pilaf. Let’s eat first, ballast up first, then we’ll see. Everything in good time. In front of us now is the pilaf; let our minds become pilaf. Tomorrow the lignite will be in front of us; our minds must become lignite! No half-measures, you know.’