It would be much better if I could only stop thinking. Thoughts are the dullest things. Duller than flesh. They stretch out and there's no end to the… - Jean-Paul Sartre
" "It would be much better if I could only stop thinking. Thoughts are the dullest things. Duller than flesh. They stretch out and there's no end to them and they leave a funny taste in the mouth. Then there are words, inside the thoughts, unfinished words, a sketchy sentence which constantly returns
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It goes, it goes ... and there's no end to it. It's worse than the rest because I feel responsible and have complicity in it. For example, this sort of painful rumination: I exist, I am the one who keeps it up. I.
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About Jean-Paul Sartre
Jean-Paul Charles Aymard Sartre (21 June 1905 – 15 April 1980), normally known simply as Jean-Paul Sartre, was a French existentialist philosopher, dramatist and screenwriter, novelist, and critic. He had an enduring personal relationship with fellow philosopher Simone de Beauvoir.
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Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Jean-Paul Charles Aymard Sartre
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Jean Paul Sartre
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J.P. Sartre
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J.-P. Sartre
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Sartre
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Jacques Guillemin
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Additional quotes by Jean-Paul Sartre
She smiled. First I lost the memory of her eyes, then the memory of her long body. I kept her smile as long as possible and then, finally lost that three years ago. Just now, brusquely, as I was taking the letter from the landlady's hands, it came back to me; I thought I saw Anny smiling. I try to refresh my memory: I need to feel all the tenderness that Anny inspires; it is there, this tenderness, it is near me, only asking to be born. But the smile does not return: it is finished. I remain dry and empty.
Мягкий свет; люди сидят по домам, они, конечно, тоже зажгли лампы. Они читают или смотрят в окно на небо. Для них... для них все иначе. Они состарились по-другому. Они живут среди завещанного добра, среди подарков, и каждый предмет их обстановки - воспоминание. Каминные часы, медали, портреты, ракушки, пресс-папье, ширмы, шали. Их шкафы битком набиты бутылками, отрезами, старой одеждой, газетами - они сохранили все. Прошлое это роскошь собственника.
А где бы я стал хранить свое прошлое? Прошлое в карман не положишь, надо иметь дом, где его разместить. У меня есть только мое тело, одинокий человек со своим одиноким телом не может удержать воспоминания, они проходят сквозь него. Я не имею права жаловаться: я хотел одного - быть свободным.
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