المرأة وحدها تستطيع أن تحتفظ في داخلها بأمل لا يبرره شيء.
الخلط بين المظهر الجسدي للمحبوبة ومظهر آخر: كم مرة سبق له ان عاش ذلك؟ عاشه دائماً بالدهشة ذاتها: هل الفرق بينها وبين الآخريات إذن بهذه الضآلة؟ كيف يمكن أن لا يعرف كيف يتعرف على طيب أحب الكائنات إليه،...
Isn't beer the holy libation of sincerity? the potion that dispels all hypocrisy, any charade of fine manners? the drink that does nothing worse than incite its fans to urinate in all innocence, to ga...
What he did succeed in seeing behind him in his mind's eye was tiny, compressed like a closed accordion.
We pass through the present with our eyes blindfolded. We are permitted merely to sense and guess at what we are actually experiencing. Only later when the cloth is untied can we glance at the past an...
There is no perfection only lifeMilan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness Of Being
The worth of a human being lies in the ability to extend oneself, to go outside oneself, to exist in and for other people.
Such are the Splendors and Miseries of memory: it is proud of its ability to keep truthful track of the logical sequence of past events; but when it comes to how we experienced them at the time, memor...
La vida humana acontece sólo una vez y por eso nunca podremos averiguar cuáles de nuestras decisiones fueron correctas y cuáles fueron incorrectas. En la situación dada sólo hemos podido decidir una v...
I've always had the sense that my life is run by other people.
I was not a hypocrite, with one real face and several false ones. I had several faces because I was young and didn't know who I was or wanted to be.
Every love relationship rests on an unwritten agreement unthinkingly concluded by the lovers in the first weeks of their love. They are still in a kind of dream but at the same time, without knowing i...
Eventually we come to know and understand a lot of things, but it's too late, because a whole life has already been determined at a stage when we didn't know a thing.
Children, Never look Back! and this meant that we must never allow the future to be weighed down by memory . for children have no past, and that is the whole secret of the magical innocence of their s...
And it isn't enough for us to identify with our selves, it is necessary to do so passionately, to the point of life and death. Because only in this way can we regard ourselves not merely as a variant...
All novels . . . are concerned with the enigma of the self. As soon as you create an imaginary being, a character, you are automatically confronted by the question: what is the self? How can it be gra...
A single metaphor can give birth to love.
A novel examines not reality but existence. And existence is not what has occurred, existence is the realm of human possibilities, everything that man can become, everything he's capable of. Novelists...
A meadow is nothing but a field of suffering. Every second some creature is dying in the gorgeous green expanse, ants eat wriggling earthworms, birds lurk in the sky to pounce on a weasel or a mouse....
Memory cannot be understood, either, without a mathematical approach. The fundamental given is the ratio between the amount of time in the lived life and the amount of time from that life that is stor...