For all the things in life which make me glad I'm not dead yet.
Posts tagged Nausea
Reason, Weakness and Chance
May 10th
Every existent is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness and dies by chance. I leaned back and I closed my eyes. But pictures, promptly informed, sprang forward and filled my closed eyes with existences: existence is a repletion which man can never abandon. – Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre) More ...
In My Place
May 7th
I want to leave, to go somewhere where I should be really in my place, where I would fit in . . . but my place is nowhere; I am unwanted. – Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre) More ...
Such Utter Loneliness
May 4th
‘Happy?’ His gaze is disconcerting, he has raised his eyebrows and is staring at me. ‘You are going to be able to judge, Monsieur. Before taking that decision, I felt such utter loneliness that I thought of committing suicide. What held me back was the idea that nobody, absolutely nobody would be moved by my More ...
They Know It
May 1st
I stop listening to them: they annoy me. They are going to sleep together. They know it. Each of them knows that the other knows it. But as they are young, chaste, and decent, as each wants to keep his self-respect and that of the other, and as love is a great poetic thing which More ...
The Nothingness to Which I Aspire
Apr 8th
My thought is me: that is why I can’t stop. I exist by what I think .. and I can’t prevent myself from thinking. At this very moment – this is terrible – if I exist, it is because I hate existing. It is I, it is I who pull myself from the nothingness to More ...
Duller Than Flesh
Apr 7th
I jump to my feet: if only I could stop thinking, that would be something of an improvement. Thoughts are the dullest thing on earth. Even duller than flesh. They stretch out endlessly and they leave a funny taste in the mouth. – Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre) More ...
There is nothing
Apr 5th
For me the past was only a pensioning off: it was another way of existing, a state of holiday and inactivity; each event, when it had played its part, dutifully packed itself away in a box and became an honorary event: we find it so difficult to imagine nothingness. Now I knew. Things are entirely More ...
It is a Trap
Jan 11th
On the wall there is a white hole, the mirror. It is a trap. I know that I am going to let myself be caught in it. I have. The grey thing has just appeared in the mirror. I go over and look at it, I can no longer move away. It is the reflection More ...
These Happy, Reasonable Voices
Jan 7th
I am alone in the midst of these happy, reasonable voices. All these characters spend their time explaining themselves, and happily recognizing that they hold the same opinions. Good God, how important they consider it to think the same things all together. It’s enough to see their expressions when one of those fishy-eyed men who More ...
A Terrible Witness
Jan 5th
When you live alone, you forget what it is to tell a story: plausibility disappears at the same time as friends. You let events flow by too: you suddenly see people appear who speak and then go away; you plunge into stories of which you can’t make head or tail: you’d make a terrible witness. More ...