Un drama vital siempre puede expresarse mediante una metáfora referida al peso. Decimos que sobre la persona cae el peso de los acontecimientos. La persona soporta esa carga o no la soporta, cae bajo...
To rebel against being born a woman seemed as foolish to her as to take pride in it.
This was exactly what the girl had most dreaded all her life and had scrupulously avoided until now: lovemaking without emotion or love. She knew that she had crossed the forbidden boundary, but she p...
They [human lives] are composed like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven’s music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a...
The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body.The heaviest of burdens is there...
Seeing is limited by two borders: Strong light, which blinds, and total darkness.
Perhaps we become aware of our age only at exceptional moments and most of the time we are ageless.
On the surface, there was always an impeccably realistic world, but underneath, behind the backdrop's cracked canvas, lurked something different, something mysterious or abstract.
Noise has one advantage. It drowns out words.
Noise has one advantage. It drowns out words. And suddenly he realized that all his life he had done nothing but talk, write, lecture, concoct sentences, search for formulations and amend them, so in...
Living, there is no happiness in that. Living: carrying one’s painful self through the world.But being, being is happiness. Being: Becoming a fountain, a fountain on which the universe falls like warm...
L'homme ne peut jamais savoir ce qu'il faut vouloir car il n'a qu'une vie et il ne peut ni la comparer à des vies antérieures ni la rectifier dans des vies ultérieures. (...) Il n'existe aucun moyen d...
It was futile to attack with reason the stout wall of irrational feelings that, as is known, is the stuff of which the female mind is made.
Is a novel anything but a trap set for a hero?
If we cannot accept the importance of the world, which considers itself important, if in the midst of that world our laughter finds no echo, we have but one choice: to take the world as a whole and ma...
If a mother was Sacrifice personified, then a daughter was Guilt, with no possibility of redress.
I cannot hate them because nothing binds me to them; I have nothing in common with them.
How did the senator know that children meant happiness? Could he see into their souls? What if the moment they were out of sight, three of them jumped the fourth and began beating him up?
He who gives himself up like a prisoner of war must give up his weapons as well. And deprived in advance of defense against a possible blow, he cannot help wondering when the blow will fall.
He was down and out, the Catholics took him in, and before he knew it, he had faith. So it was gratitude that decided the issue, most likely. Human decisions are terribly simple.