I answered that what I wanted more than anything else in the world was to write, nothing else but that, nothing. Jealous. She's jealous. No answer, just a quick glance immediately averted, a slight sh...
He says, You only came because I’m rich. I say that’s how I desire him, with his money, that when I first saw him he was already in his car, in his money, so I can’t say what I’d have done if he’d bee...
Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened. Marguerite Duras, The Malady of Death
Escribiré libros. Eso es lo que vislumbro más allá del instante, en el gran desierto bajo cuyos trazos se me aparece la amplitud de mi vida.
Esa noche, perdida entre noches y noches, de eso estaba segura, la chiquilla la pasó en ese barcoy estuvo allí cuando se produjo el estallido de la música de Chopin bajo el cielo iluminadode brillante...
Ellas esperan. Se visten para nada. Se contemplan. En la penumbra de esas quintas que se contemplan para más tarde, creen vivir una novela, ya tienen amplios roperos llenos de vestidos con los que no...
Ecrire ce n'est pas raconter des histoires. C'est le contraire de raconter des histoires. C'est raconter tout à la fois. C'est raconter une histoire et l'absence de cette histoire. C'est raconter une...
Ce manquement des femmes à elles-mêmes par elles-mêmes opéré m’apparaissait toujours comme une erreur.
Because he doesn't know he carries within him a supreme elegance, I say it for him.
« Que c'est tandis qu'elle se vit que la vie est immortelle, tandis qu'elle est en vie. Que l'immortalité ce n'est pas une question de plus ou moins de temps, que ce n'est pas une question d'immortali...
You tell yourself it would be best for her to die. You tell yourself that if now, at this hour of the night, she died, it would be easier. For you, you probably mean, but you don't finish the sentence...
Yes, she can remember everyone admiring a rare kind of evening they spoke of as something the ought to save from oblivion to describe to their children later. And that for her part she would have had...
Years after the war, after marriages, children, divorces, books, he came to Paris with his wife. He phoned her. It's me. She recognized him at once from the voice. He said, I just wanted to hear your...
We tell each other things that have no relation to the afternoon’s events or the coming night but that relate to God, to his absence that is so present, like the breasts of the young girl, so young be...
Very early in my life it was too late. It was already too late when I was eighteen. Between eighteen and twenty-five my face took off in a new direction. I grew old at eighteen. I don't know if it's t...
Their voices reach out into the empty yard, plunge deep into the hills, go right through the heart.
También para los recuerdos es demasiado tarde
Suddenly, all at once, she knows, knows that he doesn't understand her, that he never will, that he lacks the power to understand such perverseness. And that he can never move fast enough to catch her...
Sen bu olayı sıkça anlatıyorsundur, dedim....Hayır, dedi, bunu anlatmıyorum...Her şey herkese anlatılmaz...
Olhem as areias mortas dos desertos, o corpo morto das crianças: a imortalidade não passa por ali, ela para e contorna.