For the things in life which make me glad I'm not dead yet.
Blog Archives
The Nothingness to Which I Aspire
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 which I aspire: hatred and disgust for existence are just so many ways of making me exist, of thrusting me into existence. Thoughts are born behind me like a feeling of giddiness, I can feel them being born behind my head .. If I give way, they’ll come here in front, between my eyes – and I go on giving way, the thought grows and grows and here it is, huge, filling me completely and renewing my existence.
– Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre)
Duller Than Flesh
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)
There is nothing
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 what they appear to be and behind them .. there is nothing.
– Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre)
Operation Ironic
It was an ironic contradiction to see the Anglo-American coalition unleash its aggression against Iraq yesterday morning under the codename “Operation Iraqi Freedom”—as if occupying Iraq, imposing imperial domination over it, and abolishing its independence and national sovereignty would make Iraq free.
– Jerusalem Al-Quds (pro-Palestinian authority). March 21 2003
No Excuses
I am not going to make excuses for him but the boy is young and I can tell you he is devastated by what has happened.
– Gerard Houllier (not making excuses for him)
It is a Trap
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 of my face. Often, during these wasted days, I sit here contemplating it. I can understand nothing about this face. Other people’s faces have some significance. Not mine. I cannot even decide whether it is handsome or ugly. I think it is ugly, because I have been told so. But that doesn’t strike me. At heart, I am indeed shocked that qualities of this sort can be applied to it, as if you called a piece of earth or a lump of rock beautiful or ugly
– Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre)
These Happy, Reasonable Voices
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 look as if they are turned in upon themselves passes among them.
– Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre)
A Terrible Witness
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.
– Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre)
The Odd Thing
The odd thing is that I am not at all prepared to consider myself insane, and indeed I can see quite clearly that I am not: all these changes concern objects. At least that is what I’d like to be sure about.
– Nausea (Jean-Paul Sartre)
Stupid White Men
THIS EDITION OF Stupid White Men is being published for the English-speaking world outside of North America, the continent where the vast majority of the pathetically stupid, embarrassingly white, and disgustingly rich men live.
Michael Moore (Stupid White Men)