Marcel Schwob > Quotes

“Look: each moment is a cradle and a casket: may all life and all death seem strange to you.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“As masks are the sign that there are faces, words are the sign that there are things. And these things are the sign of the incomprehensible.”
― Marcel Schwob, The King in the Golden Mask and Other Stories

“May your course not run from one end to the other; for such a course does not exist; but may every step you take mark a redressed projection.
With your left foot you shall wipe out the footprint of your right foot.”
― Marcel Schwob, El libro de Monelle

“There is no science for the teguments of a leaf, for the filaments of a cell structure, the winding of a vein, the passion of a habit, or for the twists and quirks of character.”
― Marcel Schwob, Imaginary Lives

“Do not be surprised,' she said. 'It is I, and it is not I; You shall find me again, and you shall lose me; Once more shall I come among you; for few men have seen me, and none has understood me; And you shall forget me, and you shall recognize me, and you shall forget me.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“It was at this time that people found along the roads and highways little children, tiny vagabonds who refused to grow up. Little girls of seven years knelt and prayed that they might not grow older, for puberty seemed to them a sign of mortality.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Behold the word: Destroy, destroy, destroy. Destroy within yourself; destroy what surrounds you. Make space for your soul and for all other souls.

Destroy all good and all evil. Their ruins are the same.

Destroy the old dwellings of man and old the dwellings of the soul; what is dead is a distorting mirror.

Destroy, for all creation comes from destruction.

And for higher benevolence you must annihilate lower benevolence. And thus new good appears saturated with evil.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Say not: I live today, I shall die tomorrow. Divide not reality between life and death. Say: now I live and die.”
― Marcel Schwob

“Monelle grew quiet and looked at me: I came from the night, she said, and I shall return to the night. For I too am a young prostitute.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Look: each moment is a cradle and a casket: may all life and all death seem strange and new to you.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“This house could have been a prison or a hospital, but a prison where they locked up the innocent to prevent them from suffering, or a hospital where one goes to recover from the labor of life. And Monelle was both the jailer and the nurse.”
― Marcel Schwob

“Unlike most biographers it is here I leave Messrs. Burke and Hare, at the peak of their glory. Why destroy such an artistic effect by requiring them to languish along to the end of their lives, revealing their defects and their deceptions? We need only remember them, mask in hand, walking abroad on foggy nights. For their end was sordid like so many others. One of them, it appears, was hanged and Dr. Knox was forced to quit Edinburgh. Mr. Burke left no other works.”
― Marcel Schwob, Imaginary lives

“The very desire for the new is merely the hunger of the soul seeking form”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Y Monelle agregó: Te hablaré de los momentos. [...]
Piensa en el momento. Todo pensamiento que dura es una contradicción.
Ama el momento. Todo amor que dura es odio.
Sé sincero con el momento. Toda sinceridad que dura es una mentira.
Sé justo con el momento. Toda justicia que dura es injusticia.
Actúa en función del momento. Toda acción que dura es un reino difunto.
Siente la felicidad del momento. Toda felicidad que dura es desgracia.
Ten respecto por los momentos y no establezcas relaciones entre las cosas. [...]”
― Marcel Schwob, El libro de Monelle

“With your left foot you shall wipe out the footprint of your right foot.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Monelle found me in the plain where I was wandering and took me by the hand. “Do not be surprised,” she said. “It is I, and it is not I; “You shall find me again, and you shall lose me; “Once more shall I come among you; for few men have seen me, and none has understood me; “And you shall forget me, and you shall recognize me, and you shall forget me.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“But if I do not figure out how to stay busy, I do not know what shall become of me. My brain is empty-I read, I read, I read-and I dare not think.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Ne dis pas : je vis maintenant, je mourrai demain. Ne divise pas la réalité entre la vie et la mort. Dis : maintenant je vis et je meurs.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Il invoquait le jour où la sphère divine se gonflerait, après toutes les transformations des âmes. Car le monde que nous connaissons est l'oeuvre de la haine, et sa dissolution sera l'oeuvre de l'amour.”
― Marcel Schwob, Imaginary Lives

“In a country town I wouldn’t be able to find anymore, the sloping streets are old and the houses are decked with slate. Rain runs along the sculpted pilotis, and its droplets all fall in the selfsame place, with the selfsame sound. The round little windows have sunken into the walls, as if to keep from being struck. There is nothing brave in these streets, save for the ivy above the doors and the moss atop the walls: the ivy’s dark and shiny leaves bare their teeth, and the moss dares consume all the large stones that sit outside its yellow velvet – but the people here are as fleeting as the shadow of rising smoke.”
― Marcel Schwob, The King in the Golden Mask

“You shall find me again, and you shall lose me;
Once more shall I come among you; for few men have seen me, and none has understood me;
And you shall forget me, and you shall recognize me, and you shall forget me.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Τότε η Λουβέτ θυμήθηκε και προτίμησε ν'αγαπάει και να υποφέρει”
― Marcel Schwob, Το Βιβλίο της Μονέλ

“Behold the word: Destroy, destroy, destroy. Destroy within yourself; destroy what surrounds you. Make space for your soul and for all other souls.
Destroy all good and all evil. Their ruins are the same.
Destroy the old dwellings of man and the old dwellings of the soul; what is dead is a distorting mirror.
Destroy, for all creation comes from destruction.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Build your house alone and, alone, burn it to the ground.
Throw no debris behind you; may each put his ruins to use.
Construct nothing in nights past. Set what you build adrift.
Contemplate new buildings, following the slightest impulse of your soul.
For each new desire, create new gods.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“None of them, you see, can stay with you. They would be too sad, and they are ashamed to stay. When you cry no more, they dare not look at you. They teach you the lesson they have to teach you, and then they go. They come through the cold and the rain to kiss your foreheads and dry your eyes, and the awful shadows take them back.
For they must perhaps go elsewhere.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Nada te asombre por comparación con el recuerdo; asómbrate de todo por la novedad de la ignorancia.”
― Marcel Schwob, La lámpara de Psique

“Her iyiyi ve her kötüyü yok et. Yıkıntılar birbirinin benzeridir.

İnsanların eski barınaklarını, ruhların eski barınaklarını yok et; ölü şeyler biçim bozan aynalardır.

Yok et, çünkü her yaratı, yok ediş sonucu ortaya çıkar.

Ve üstün iyiliği yaratmak için alçak iyiliği yok etmek gerekir. Ve böylece yeni iyilik kötülüğe doymuş gibi görünür.

Ve yeni bir sanat tasarlayabilmek için eski sanatı kırmak gerekir. Ve böylece yeni sanat bir tür sanat düşmanlığı gibi görünür.

Çünkü kurulan her yapı kalıntılardan oluşturulmuştur ve biçimlerin dışında bu dünyada hiçbir şey yeni değildir.

Ne var ki biçimleri yok etmek gerekir.”
― Marcel Schwob, Üç Roman - Altın Maskeli Kral, Monelle’in Kitabı, Düşsel Yaşamlar

“Postpone the moment not; you would fatigue the throes of death.
Look: each moment is a cradle and a casket: may all life and all death seem strange and new to you.”
― Marcel Schwob, The Book of Monelle

“Y las dos sombras blancas se turbaron, sin atreverse a decir nada. Porque su beso no tenía ya aguijón, ni olor salvaje, y como el deseo de las ovejas, de las cabras, de los pájaros y de las cigarras disminuía en su corazón, el placer de tocar sus cuerpos no los agitó ya con su estremecimiento.”
― Marcel Schwob, La lámpara de Psique

“Il regarda sa fille et la trouva vierge et désirable.”
― Marcel Schwob, Imaginary Lives