sirin > sirin's Quotes

“I was ashamed of myself when I realised life was a costume party and I attended with my real face”
― Franz Kafka

“There were no embraces, because where there is great love there is often little display of it.”
― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

“...'I, for example, have several dear friends... Now am I in love with all of these people?'
I continued to press my point: 'Yes,' I said. 'You are a little in love with all those people you care for.”
― Sabahattin Ali, Madonna in a Fur Coat

“I like books where all the mysteries and the anguish pass through a precise and cold mind, without shadows, like the mind of a chessplayer.”
― Italo Calvino, If on a Winter's Night a Traveler

“I overcame myself, the sufferer; I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for myself.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

“I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself.”
― Clarice Lispector, The Stream of Life

“We live in an age in which there is no heroic death.”
― Yukio Mishima

“In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don't love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. and all your inside parts that they'd just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver--love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.”
― Toni Morrison, Beloved

“Problems are the poetry of chess. They demand from the composer the same virtues that characterize all worthwhile art: originality, invention, harmony, conciseness, complexity, and splendid insincerity.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Poems and Problems

“Nothing eases suffering like human touch.”
― Bobby Fischer, Chess Meets of the Century