Benjamin > Benjamin's Quotes

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  • #1
    André Aciman
    “I’m not wise at all. I told you, I know nothing. I know books, and I know how to string words together—it doesn’t mean I know how to speak about the things that matter most to me.”
    André Aciman, Call Me by Your Name

  • #2
    André Aciman
    “I know nothing Oliver.”
    André Acimen

  • #3
    Haruki Murakami
    “No matter where i go, i still end up me. What's missing never changes. The scenery may change, but i'm still the same incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that i can never satisfy. I think that lack itself is as close as i'll come to defining myself.”
    Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

  • #4
    Sadegh Hedayat
    “I thought to myself: if it’s true that every person has a star in the sky, mine must be distant, dim, and absurd. Perhaps I never had a star.”
    Sadegh Hedayat, The Blind Owl

  • #5
    Kazuo Ishiguro
    “What I'm not sure about, is if our lives have been so different from the lives of the people we save. We all complete. Maybe none of us really understand what we've lived through, or feel we've had enough time.”
    Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

  • #6
    Kazuo Ishiguro
    “All children have to be deceived if they are to grow up without trauma.”
    Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

  • #7
    Osamu Dazai
    “Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

    Everything passes.

    That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

    Everything passes.”
    Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

  • #8
    Osamu Dazai
    “I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind-of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”
    Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

  • #9
    Osamu Dazai
    “For someone like myself in whom the ability to trust others is so cracked and broken that I am wretchedly timid and am forever trying to read the expression on people's faces.”
    Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

  • #10
    Osamu Dazai
    “Unhappiness. There are all kinds of unhappy people in the world. I suppose it would be no exaggeration to say that the world is composed entirely of unhappy people. But those people can fight their unhappiness with society fairly and squarly, and society for its part easily understands and sympathizes with such struggles. My unhappiness stemmed entirely from my own vices, and I had no way of fighting anybody.”
    Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

  • #11
    Fyodor Dostoevsky
    “Beauty will save the world.”
    Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

  • #12
    Fyodor Dostoevsky
    “There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.”
    Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

  • #13
    Fyodor Dostoevsky
    “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.”
    Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

  • #14
    John Boyne
    “Maybe there were no villains in my mother’s story at all. Just men and women, trying to do their best by each other. And failing.”
    John Boyne, The Heart's Invisible Furies

  • #15
    John Boyne
    “A line came into my mind, something that Hannah Arendt once said about the poet Auden: that life had manifested the heart's invisible furies on his face.”
    John Boyne, The Heart's Invisible Furies

  • #16
    André Aciman
    “We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!”
    Andre Aciman, Call Me by Your Name

  • #17
    André Aciman
    “But it might have started way later than I think without my noticing anything at all. You see someone, but you don't really see him, he's in the wings. Or you notice him, but nothing clicks, nothing "catches," and before you're even aware of a presence, or of something troubling you, the six weeks that were offered you have almost passed and he's either already gone or just about to leave, and you're basically scrambling to come to terms with something, which, unbeknownst to you, has been brewing for weeks under your very nose and bears all the symptoms of what you're forced to call I 'want'.”
    André Aciman, Call Me By Your Name

  • #18
    Haruki Murakami
    “I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?”
    Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

  • #19
    Haruki Murakami
    “Is it possible, in the final analysis, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?
    We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person's essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?”
    Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

  • #20
    Haruki Murakami
    “Here's what I think, Mr. Wind-Up Bird," said May Kasahara. "Everybody's born with some different thing at the core of their existence. And that thing, whatever it is, becomes like a heat source that runs each person from the inside. I have one too, of course. Like everybody else. But sometimes it gets out of hand. It swells or shrinks inside me, and it shakes me up. What I'd really like to do is find a way to communicate that feeling to another person. But I can't seem to do it. They just don't get it. Of course, the problem could be that I'm not explaining it very well, but I think it's because they're not listening very well. They pretend to be listening, but they're not, really. So I get worked up sometimes, and I do some crazy things.”
    Haruki Murakami, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
    tags: life

  • #21
    Haruki Murakami
    “I think you still love me, but we can’t escape the fact that I’m not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So I’m not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. I’m not angry, either. I should be, but I’m not. I just feel pain. A lot of pain. I thought I could imagine how much this would hurt, but I was wrong.”
    Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

  • #22
    Haruki Murakami
    “Have you heard of the illness hysteria siberiana? Try to imagine this: You're a farmer, living all alone on the Siberian tundra. Day after day you plow your fields. As far as the eye can see, nothing. To the north, the horizon, to the east, the horizon, to the south, to the west, more of the same. Every morning, when the sun rises in the east, you go out to work in your fields. When it's directly overhead, you take a break for lunch. When it sinks in the west, you go home to sleep. And then one day, something inside you dies. Day after day you watch the sun rise in the east, pass across the sky, then sink in the west, and something breaks inside you and dies. You toss your plow aside and, your head completely empty of thought, begin walking toward the west. Heading toward a land that lies west of the sun. Like someone, possessed, you walk on, day after day, not eating or drinking, until you collapse on the ground and die. That's hysteria siberiana.”
    Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

  • #23
    Sadegh Hedayat
    “The person that I had been existed no longer. If I had been able to conjure him up and speak to him he would not have listened to me and, if he had, would not have understood what I said. He was like someone whom I had known once, but he was no part of me.”
    Sadegh Hedayat, The Blind Owl

  • #24
    Kazuo Ishiguro
    “Memories, even your most precious ones, fade surprisingly quickly. But I don’t go along with that. The memories I value most, I don’t ever see them fading.”
    Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

  • #25
    Kazuo Ishiguro
    “I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it's just too much. The current's too strong. They've got to let go, drift apart. That's how it is with us. It's a shame, Kath, because we've loved each other all our lives. But in the end, we can't stay together forever.”
    Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

  • #26
    Kazuo Ishiguro
    “It never occurred to me that our lives, until then so closely interwoven, could unravel and separate over a thing like that. But the fact was, I suppose, there were powerful tides tugging us apart by then, and it only needed something like that to finish the task. If we'd understood that back then-who knows?-maybe we'd have kept a tighter hold of one another.”
    Kazuo Ishiguro, Never Let Me Go

  • #27
    Albert Camus
    “I may not have been sure about what really did interest me, but I was absolutely sure about what didn't.”
    Albert Camus, The Stranger

  • #28
    Albert Camus
    “Since we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter.”
    Albert Camus, The Stranger

  • #29
    Albert Camus
    “After awhile you could get used to anything.”
    Albert Camus, The Stranger

  • #30
    John  Williams
    “In his forty-third year William Stoner learned what others, much younger, had learned before him: that the person one loves at first is not the person one loves at last, and that love is not an end but a process through which one person attempts to know another.
    They were both very shy, and they knew each other slowly, tentatively; they came close and drew apart, they touched and withdrew, neither wishing to impose upon the other more than might be welcomed. Day by day the layers of reserve that protected them dropped away, so that at last they were like many who are extraordinarily shy, each open to the other, unprotected, perfectly and unselfconsciously at ease.
    Nearly every afternoon, when his classes were over, he came to her apartment. They made love, and talked, and made love again, like children who did not think of tiring at their play. The spring days lengthened, and they looked forward to the summer.”
    John Williams, Stoner



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