Quotes About Humanity

una vida triste, llena de pequeñas mezquindades, algunas hechas sin ni siquiera mala intención.

I too believe in the intrinsic goodness of human beings, but it means nothing.

Un poeta lo puede soportar todo. Lo que equivale a decir que un hombre lo puede soportar todo. Pero no es verdade: son pocas las cosas que un hombre puede soportar. Soportar de verdad. Un poeta, en cambio, lo puede soportar todo. Com esta covicción crecimos. El primer enunciado es cierto, pero conduce a la ruina, a la locura, a la muerte.

El problema con la literatura, como con la vida, dice don Crispín, es que al final uno siempre termina volviéndose un cabrón.

En el querer los mexicanos somos todos iguales. Ante Dios, también —dijo el taxista.

Cada cosa de este país es un homenaje a todas las cosas del mundo, incluso a las que aún no han sucedido —dijo." Excerpt From: Roberto Bolaño. "2666." iBooks.

En ik dacht: zo is de geschiedenis, een kort gruwelverhaal.

Mi poema se llama "Todos sufren". No me importa que me miren.

Yo soy de los que creen que el ser humano está condenado de antemano a la derrota, a la derrota sin apelaciones, pero que hay que salir y dar la pelea y darla, además, de la mejor forma posible, de cara y limpiamente, sin pedir cuartel (porque además no te lo darán) e intentar caer como un valiente, y que eso es nuestra victoria.

The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children.

La letteratura è una somma di vite: vissute e non vissute.

When people look most vicious, what you are seeing is not their animal side. It is the savagery that only humans can muster.

To free humanity of time. For time is the great enslaver of us all. Time that ages us, time that limits us. Think how often you have wished to have more time for something, or wished you could go back a day and do something differently. When humanity is freed of time, old wrongs can be corrected before they are done.

Some speak of the savagery of beasts. I will ever prefer that to the thoughtless contempt some men have toward animals.

Still I promise myself, "Next time I will do better" in the all-too-human conceit that I will always be offered a "next time.

I feared my own kind more than anything the natural world could ever threaten me with.

Humans could never accept the world as it was and live in it. They were always breaking it and living amongst the shattered pieces.

It was hard to reconcile the drumbeats and lifted voices in the night with my memories of flames and the screams of dying men. How could humanity range so effortlessly from the sublime to the savage and back again?

Name it as you will, claim it as you will, the world does not belong to men. Men belong to the world.

Had they been dogs they would have sniffed me over and then drawn back. But humans have no such inbred courtesies.

Seldom can one hate a person if one understand that person.

Men cannot grieve as dogs do.

Death stalks us, and he is ever sure of his kill. It is not a thing to dwell on, but it is something we all know, in our guts and bones. All save humans.

All of history, a great wheel, turning inexorably. Just as seasons come and go, just as the moon moves endlessly through her cycle, so does time. The same wars are fought, the same plagues descend, the same folk, good or evil, rise to power. Humanity is trapped on that wheel, doomed endlessly to repeat the mistakes we have we have already made. Unless someone comes to change it.