Quotes from Jean Paul Sartre

Men all alone, completely alone with horrible monstrosities, will run through the streets, pass heavily in front of me, their eyes staring, fleeing their ills yet carrying with them, open-mouthed, with their insect-tongue flapping its wings. Then I'll burst out laughing even though my body may be covered with filthy, infected scabs which blossom into flowers of flesh, violets, buttercups.

One always dies too soon - or too late. And yet one's whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are - your life, and nothing else.

There is no need for hell fire in hell. Hell is other people.

Y se acerca el día en el que se dirá, cerrando el último volumen del último estante del extremo izquierdo: "¿y ahora?

He was free, free for everything, free to act like an animal or like a machine.

Es kommt nicht darauf an, was man aus uns gemacht hat, sondern darauf, was wir aus dem machen, was man aus uns gemacht hat.

Ä°nsan kendi kendine sormal?, diye düÅŸündü Mösyö Darbédat, sorumluluk nerede baÅŸlar ya da daha çok nerede biter?

Ä°nan bana, her ÅŸeye kendini kand?rmaya çal??madan bakmak, en iyisidir.

Nada, sólo existo.

I have such a desire to sleep and am so much behind my sleep. A good night, one good night and all this nonsense will be swept away.

El amor es una gran cosa poética que es preciso no espantar.

GüneÅŸin ac?mas?z bir yarg? gibi yarat?klar?n üzerine saçt??? bu soÄŸuk ayd?nl?klar, gözlerimden içime ak?yor; yoksullaÅŸt?r?c? bir ???kla ayd?nlan?yorum.

Ya yaÅŸamay? ya da anlatmay? seçmek gerek.

Like all dreamers, I mistook disenchantment for truth

Daha çok, ayd?n?n fazladan bir adam, orta s?n?flar?n baÅŸar?s?z bir ürünü, kusurlar? dolay?s?yla ayr?cal?ks?z s?n?flar?n k?y?s?nda yaÅŸayan ve onlara hiçbir zaman kat?lamayan biri olduÄŸunu söyleyemez miyiz?

When a man hasn't the courage to kill himself wholesale, he must do so retail.' He would walk down to the water and say: 'Farewell to what I love most in the world...

Tiho sam išao ka svom kraju... siguran da ?e poslednji otkucaj mog srca biti utisnut na poslednjoj stranici mog rada i da ?e smrt uzeti samo ve? mrtvog ?oveka.

Comprendo muy bien que he ido demasiado lejos. Supongo que uno no puede prever los inconvenientes de la soledad.

No se es escritor por haber elegido decir ciertas cosas, sino por la forma en que se digan

Me dan ganas de marcharme, de irme a cualquier parte donde estuviera realmente en mi lugar, donde me encerraría... Pero mi lugar no se halla en ninguna parte; estoy de más.

Wszyscy czekali Å'akomie na godzinÄ™ sÅ'odkich ciemnoÅ›ci, odpr??enia, zapomnienia, godzinÄ™, w czasie której ekran, lÅ›niÄ…cy jak biaÅ'y kamieÅ" w wodzie, bÄ™dzie mówiÅ' i marzyÅ' za nich.

I had thought out this sentence, at first it had been a small part of myself. Now it was inscribed on the paper, it took sides against me. I didn't recognize it any more. I couldn't conceive it again. It was there, in front of me; in vain for me to trace some sign of its origin. Anyone could have written it. But I ... I wasn't sure I wrote it. The letters glistened no longer, they were dry. That had disappeared too; nothing was left but their ephemeral spark.

When I was little, my Aunt Bigeois told me 'If you look at yourself too long in the mirror, you'll see a monkey.' I must have looked at myself even longer than that: what I see is well below the monkey, on the fringe of the vegetable world, at the level of jellyfish.

I had as much desire to eat with him as I had to hang myself.