She suffers as a miser. She must be miserly with her pleasures, as well. I wonder if sometimes she doesn't wish she were free of this monotonous sorrow, of these mutterings which start as soon as she...
She is dearer to me than life. But her suffering comes from within, and only she can rid herself of it. For she is free.
My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I'm going to sleep.
Men get the war they deserve.
Mais comme mes regards tombaient sur le bloc de feuilles blanches, je fus saisi par son aspect et je restai, la plume en l'air, à contempler ce papier éblouissant : comme il était dur et voyant, comme...
Las palabras se habían desvanecido, y con ellas la significación de las cosas, sus modos de empleo, las débiles marcas que los hombres han trazado en su superficie. Estaba sentado, un poco encorvado,...
La mayor parte del tiempo, al no unirse a palabras, mis pensamientos quedan en la niebla. Dibujan formas claras y agradables, se disipan; en seguida las olvido.
J’existe. C’est doux, si doux, si lent. Et léger: on dirait que ça tient en l’air tout seul. Ça remue. Ce sont des effleurements partout qui fondent et s’évanouissent. Tout doux, tout doux.
Je pense, lui dis-je, que nous voilà, tous tant que nous sommes, à manger et à boire pour conserver notre précieuse existence et qu’il n’y a rien, rien, aucune raison d’exister… L’autodidacte répondit...
In the distance.Above my head; above my head; and this instant which I cannot leave, which locks me in andlimits me on every side, this instant I am made of will be no more than a confused dream.
Il n’y a de réalité que dans l’action… [L’être humain] n’existe que dans la mesure où il se réalise, il n’est donc rien d’autre que sa vie
INEZ: What's the matter?ESTELLE: I feel so queer. Don't you ever get taken that way? When I can't see myself I begin to wonder if I really and truly exist. I pat myself just to make sure, but it doesn...
I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in . . . but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted.
I want no secrets or soul-states, nothing ineffable; I am neithervirgin nor priest enough to play with the inner life.
I slip Anny's letter back into my despatch case: she has done what she could; I cannot reach the woman who took it in her hands, folded and put it in the envelope. Is it possible even to think of some...
I go to the window, I spot a fly under the curtain, I corner it in a muslin trap and move a murderous forefinger toward it. This moment is not in the program, it's something apart, timeless, incompara...
Everything that burns, everything that rips me apart, I want to suffer with my body. I'd rather have a hundred wounds, whips, poisons - than this kind of suffering in the head, this phantom of sufferi...
But you looked much more like a fellow who had just realised that he has been living on ideas that don’t pay.
But faced with this great wrinkled paw, neither ignorance nor knowledge was important: the world of explanations and reasons is not the world of existence.
All these creatures spend their time explaining, realizing happily that they agree with each other.