When she looked longer at herself in her new dress, it was she but she living a different life, the life she would have lived if she had stayed in Prague.
We live everything as it comes, without warning , like an actor going on cold. and what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? that is why life is always like a sketch. No ,...
Vertigo is something other than the fear of falling. It is the voice of emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.
To love someone out of compassion means not really to love
She thought that after what she had been through during the invasion she would stop being petty and grow up, grow wise and strong, but she had overestimated herself
Political movements rest not so much on rational attitudes as on fantasies, images, words, and archetypes that come together to make up this or that political kitsch.
Perhaps all the questions we ask for love, to measure, test, prob, and save it, have the additional effect of cutting it short. Perhaps the reason we are unable to love is that we yearn to be loved. t...
Life is like weeds
It is wrong to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious coincidences... but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life...
[B]ut pain doesn't listen to reason, it has it's own reason, which is not reasonable.
Youth is a terrible thing: it is a stage trod by children in buskins and fancy costumes mouthing speeches they've memorized and fanatically believe but only half understand
You must understand that by this time the only choice was among several varieties of defeat, but the town in question rejected compromise and would settle for nothing but victory. That was not reason...
Yes, it's crazy. Love is either crazy or it's nothing at all.
Ya saben ustedes lo que ocurre cuando dos personas están charlando. Uno habla y el otro le interrumpe. Eso es lo mismo que me pasa a mí, yo... y comienza a hablar de sí mismo hasta que el otro no logr...
Why in fact should one tell the truth? What obliges us to do it? And why do we consider telling the truth to be a virtue? Imagine that you meet a madman, who claims that he is a fish and that we are a...
Which doesn't mean, of course, that I'd stopped loving her, that I'd forgotten her, or that her image had paled; on the contrary; in the form of a quiet nostalgia she remained constantly within me; I...
When he asked her why she was so silent, she told him she had not been satisfied with their lovemaking. She said he had made love to her like an intellectual.
When a woman doesn't live sufficiently through her body, she comes to see the body as an enemy.
What? We feel aesthetic pleasure at a sonata by Beethoven and not at one with the same style and charm if it comes from one of our own contemporaries? Isn't that the height of hypocrisy? So then the s...
What she had unexpectedly met there in the village church was not God; it was beauty. She knew perfectly well that neither the church nor the litany was beautiful in and of itself, but they were beaut...