Quotes About Experience

Understanding that something is always lost when it comes to human beings.

Wow, this crappy performance art is really making me feel not so terrible about my various emotional issues.

Things in life have no real beginning, though our stories about them always do.

What was a life anyway? An accumulation of small shelves of incident.

Give life long enough and it will solve all your problems, including the one of being alive.

How inevitable it is; we step into an ordinary moment and never come out again.

Sometimes thinking back on things is a mistake arising out of pride, but I guess you live inside a moment for years, move with it and feel it grow, and it sends out roots until it touches everything in sight.

C'è chi pensa che l'amore sia la fine della strada, e che se si è abbastanza fortunati da trovarlo ci si ferma lì. Altri dicono che è come un burrone nel quale si precipita. Ma chiunque abbia vissuto almeno un po' sa che muta con il passare dei giorni, e secondo l'energia che gli si dedica, lo si conserva o ci si aggrappa, oppure lo si perde, ma a volte capita che non sia nemmeno mai stato lì, sin dall'inizio.( Questo bacio vada al mondo intero)

We seldom know what we're hearing when we hear something for the first time, but one thing is certain: we hear it as we will never hear it again. We return to the moment to experience it, I suppose, but we can never really find it, only its memory, the faintest imprint of what really was, what it meant.

But being rational about it didn't cure it.

He didn't like it all that much when he first came - all the rubbish and the rush - but it was growing on him, it wasn't half bad. Coming to the city was like entering a tunnel, he said, and finding to your surprise that the light at the end didn't matter; sometimes in fact the tunnel made the light tolerable.

People think they know the mystery of living in your skin. They don't. There's no one knows except the person who carts it around her own self.

The old days, they arrive back in the oddest ways, suddenly taut, breaking the surface, a salmon leap.

What monstrous things, our pasts, especially when they have been lovely.

The smallest moments: they return, dwell, endure.

If your life doesn't flash in front of your eyes, old boy, does that mean you've had no life at all?

One goes up in a plane knowing, sometimes, that not all of you is going to come down.

The days hardened like loaves: he ate them without appetite.

Literature can stop my heart and execute me for a moment, allow me to become someone else.

she might not have been party to love, but it still took a lot of volume to fill a life.

We seldom know what we're hearing when we hear something for the first time, but one thing is certain: we hear as we will never hear it again. We return to the moment to experience it, I suppose, but we can never really find it, only its memory, the faintest imprint of what it really was, what it meant.

I went into my first marriage, blank to the schemes of love.

There was a quote about standing in a river too long or long enough that I can't find now. Anyone remember? If so, what page?

Sometimes he felt as if the rubber bullet had been travelling a whole decade.