The future is the worst thing about the present.
[T]he truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs or his thoughts or his sorrows; and human spee...
Yet she resigned herself: reverently she put away in the chest of drawers her beautiful dress and even her satin shoes, whose soles had been yellowed by the slippery wax of the dance floor. Her heart...
He had carefully avoided her out of the natural cowardice that characterizes the stronger sex.
Bir gün, birdenbire, tam umudumuzu kestiğimiz sırada. O zaman ufuklar aralanır; İşte! diye haykıran bir ses gibidir. Bir kimseye, yaşamınızın sırlarını dökmek, ona her şeyi vermek, onun için her şeyi...
He loved the extensive vaults where you could hear the night birds and the sea breeze; he loved the craggy ruins bound together by ivy, those dark halls, and any appearance of death and destruction. H...
Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to...
The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
Of all lies, art is the least untrue.
When one does something, one must do it wholly and well. Those bastard existences where you sell suet all day and write poetry at night are made for mediocre minds – like those horses that are equally...
The morality of art consists, for everyone, in the side that flatters its own interests. People do not like literature.
On certain occasions art can shake very ordinary spirits, and whole worlds can be revealed by its clumsiest interpreters.
In March 1853 she was afflicted with a pain in the chest; her tongue seemed to be covered with a film; leeches failed to make her breathing any easier.
I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.
However, all this reading had disturbed their brains.
Het was een van die zuivere gevoelens die het normale leven niet verstoren, die men koestert omdat ze zeldzaam zijn en waarvan het verlies dieper zou kwetsen dan dat het bezit voldoening schenkt.
Our ignorance of history makes us libel to our own times. People have always been like this.
Talent is a long patience, and originality an effort of will and intense observation.
The artist must manage to make posterity believe that he never existed.
I grew up in a hospital and as a child I played in the dissecting room