Quotes from Paul Bowles

Polly belonged wholly to her time. Alert to its defects and dangers, she nevertheless had reached what she herself called an adjustment, and she was very firm in her belief that without the attainment of a state of conscious harmony with the society in which he functioned, no individual could hope to accomplish much of anything

Frightfulness is never more than an unfamiliar pattern.

Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It's that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don't know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well.

The only thing that makes life worth living is the possibility of experiencing now and then a perfect moment. And perhaps even more than that, it's having the ability to recall such moments in their totality, to contemplate them like jewels. Do you understand?

There have been times, what with this and that, when the whisper of words was not enough. On some shelf of memory lies a misplaced summer, one not stored away for later savoring. Surely it ended early, with unexpected fogs, with the wind sliding past through unmeasured darkness. No voice could be enough, what with this and that, and the hours falling faster.

La humanidad es todos salvo uno mismo. Entonces, ¿Qué interés puede tener para nadie?

Tunner's presence created a situation, however slight, which kept him from entering into the reflective state he considered essential.

The odious little dogs that French people seemed to like so much rushed out at him as he rode by, barking furiously.

It is a dangerous discovery, because they are going to disregard many vital things in their haste to catch up.

thing, the unthinking laughter of the secure.

My dear man, wisdom is a primitive concept," he had told him. "What we want now is knowledge.

When I was 19 and I had lots of hope. Now, of course, I have none whatever. One wouldn't. One doesn't. I have a hope for a painless death. That's all that bothers me. Paul Bowles to Richard de Combray

HE AWOKE, opened his eyes.

Small, with blonde hair and an olive complexion, she was saved from prettiness by the intensity of her gaze. Once one had seen her eyes, the rest of the face grew vague, and when one tried to recall her image afterwards, only the piercing, questioning violence of the wide eyes remained.

What words are there to tell how long a night can be?

You know what politique is? It is the French word for a lie. Kdoub! Politique! When you hear the French say: our politique, you know they mean: our lies. And when you hear the Moslems, the Friends of Independence, say: our politique, you know they mean: our lies. All lies are sins. And so, which displeases Allah more, a lie told by a Nazarene, who doesn't know the true faith from the false, or a lie told by a Moslem, who does?

alone in his struggle to bring the truth to its people. He consoled himself by recalling that it is only in each man's own consciousness that the isolation exists; objectively man is always a part of something.

According to popular belief, the feebler the individual consciousness, the better equipped it is to serve as an instrument through which God can speak.

So she said banteringly: "What's the unit of exchange in this different world of yours?" He did not hesitate. "The tear." "It isn't fair," she objected. "Some people have to work very hard for a tear. Others can have them just for the thinking.

Las cosas ocurren solo un determinado número de veces, en realidad, muy pocas. ¿Cuántas veces más recordarás cierta tarde de tu infancia, una tarde que forma una parte tan entrañable de tu ser que ni siquiera puedes imaginar la vida sin ella? Quizá cuatro o cinco veces más. Quizás ni eso. ¿Cuántas veces más verás salir la luna llena? Quizás veinte. Y sin embargo todo parece ilimitado.

Dotar la vida de significado requiere energía y, en aquel momento, estaba falto de ella.

Godinama je njegovo praznovjerje da se stvarnost i istinske predodžbe mogu na?i u razgovoru s pripadnicima radni?ke klase. Iako je sada jasno vidio da su njihove formule razmišljanja i govora jednako krute i šablonske, pa stoga i jednako daleko od bilo kakvog izraza istinitosti kao i formule svake druge klase, ?esto bi i dalje znao uhvatiti sebe kako ?eka, iracionalno vjeruju?i da bi im iz usta mogli iza?i biseri mudrosti.

Duša je najumorniji dio tijela.

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