Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
a writer is a foreign country
Banality is sometimes striking.
Very early in my life it was too late.
The best way to fill time is to waste it.
We, her children, are heroic, dersperate.
One must talk. That's how it is. One must.
You are what you are and that fascinates me.
I know all one can know when one knows nothing.
Oh, how good it is to be with someone, sometimes.
Life is only lived full-time by women with children.
It was the men I deceived the most that I loved the most.
Get rid of things or you'll spend your whole life tidying up.
I don't have general views about anything, except social injustice.
Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.
War is a generality, so are the inevitabilities of war, including death.
Stormy skies, says Ernesto. He grieved for them. Summer rain. Childhood.
All that remains of that minute is time in all its purity, bone-white time.
When the past is recaptured by the imagination, breath is put back into life.
Heterosexuality is dangerous. It tempts you to aim at a perfect duality of desire.
I am dead. I have no desire for you. My body no longer wants the one who doesn’t love.
Men like women who write. Even though they don't say so. A writer is a foreign country.
I have never waited for anything the way I've waited for today, when nothing will happen.
...as long as nothing happens between them, the memory is cursed with what hasn't happened.
It’s not that you have to achieve anything, it’s that you have to get away from where you are.
Their voices reach out into the empty yard, plunge deep into the hills, go right through the heart.
I acquired that drinker's face before I drank. Drink only confirmed it. The space for it existed in me.
She had lived her early years as though she were waiting for something she might, but never did, become.
In love there are no vacations. No such thing. Love has to be lived fully with its boredom and all that.
Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened.
Alcohol doesn't console, it doesn't fill up anyone's psychological gaps, all it replaces is the lack of God.
It's only women who are not really quite women at all, frivolous women who have no idea, who neglect repairs.
He wanted to pay her; he thought women ought to be paid for keeping men from dying or going out of their minds.
Journalism without a moral position is impossible. Every journalist is a moralist. It's absolutely unavoidable.
Drinking isn't necessarily the same as wanting to die. But you can't drink without thinking you're killing yourself.
It's afterwards you realize that the feeling of happiness you had with a man didn't necessarily prove that you loved him.
Alcohol is barren. The words a man speaks in the night of drunkenness fade like the darkness itself at the coming of day.
We’re in the vanguard of a nameless battle, a battle without arms or bloodshed or glory: we’re in the vanguard of waiting.
That she had so completely recovered her sanity was a source of sadness to her. One should never be cured of one's passion.
He says he’s lonely, horribly lonely because of this love he feels for her. She says she’s lonely too. She doesn’t say why.
I see journalists as the manual workers, the laborers of the word. Journalism can only be literature when it is passionate.
There are many women who write as they think they should write - to imitate men and make a place for themselves in literature.
You alone became the outer surface of my life, the side I never see, and you will be that, the unknown part of me, until I die.
People come to Paris, to the capital, to give their lives a sense of belonging, of an almost mythical participation in society.
The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken.
I've forgotten the words with which to tell you. I knew them once, but I've forgotten them, and now I'm talking to you without them.
I suddenly remember something I've been told about fear. That amid a hail of machine gun fire you notice the existence of your skin.
You have to be very fond of men. Very, very fond. You have to be very fond of them to love them. Otherwise they're simply unbearable.
When it's in a book I don't think it'll hurt any more ...exist any more. One of the things writing does is wipe things out. Replace them.
No other human being, no woman, no poem or music, book or painting can replace alcohol in its power to give man the illusion of real creation.
In a certain state of mind, all trace of feeling is banished. Whenever I remain silent in a certain way, I don't love you, have you noticed that?