Quotes About Obscurity

I wish I had a strong hand for the sole purpose of thrusting it into this incoherent construction that I am. And yet what I am saying here is not even precisely my opinion, not even precisely my opinion at this moment. When I look into myself I see so much that is obscure and still in flux that I cannot even properly explain or fully accept the dislike I feel for myself.

The people who think I'm famous are knitters. Most of my life, I'm wildly unrecognized.

I wouldn't know Robbie Williams if I fell over him.

I can walk down the street, and 85 percent of the people on the block are really quite oblivious to me. They either think I'm probably an actor or else I installed their storm windows two years ago, or I work at their bank, or maybe I'm their cousin Marie's gynecologist. Then, to the other 15 percent of those people on the street, I'm a rock star.

My English text is chaste, and all licentious passages are left in the decent obscurity of a learned language.

I've done films over the years that basically no one saw. And I'm thankful that some of them haven't been seen.

I'd always avoided stuff like 'Where are they now?' or 'Whatever happened to?' Just 'No thanks, thanks for calling.' You tell me, have you ever seen a 'Whatever happened to' where they seemed anything but pathetic?

When the history of the 20th century is written, there are going to be some pretty obscure people who are entitled to sainthood. And they're not going to be well-known.

My lifestyle is bizarre, but the only thing you need to know is where the darkroom is.

Theater people are always pining and agonizing because they're afraid that they'll be forgotten. And in America they're quite right. They will be.

Sometimes you look around at your life and you see a ghost of a different one. It watches from the wings like an understudy that knows it won't go on. The play unfolds, and eventually, when you glance backstage, that life you knew is gone, and no one watching ever knew it was there at all.

Do you know what it is you're most afraid of?" "Yes." "What?" "I'm afraid of being forgotten," Bob said, and having admitted that, wondered if it was true. He said, "I'm afraid I'll end up living a life like everyone else's and me being Bob Ford won't matter one way or the other.

all of us invisible and as if we never were here, from the beginning, here.

Leer a Céline presupone enfrentarse a una reducida pero intensa e insistente constelación de sombras fantasmales que, situadas entre el lector y el texto

Tutto quello che è interessante accade nell'ombra, davvero. Non si sa nulla della vera storia degli uomini.

She has never made up her mind between public acclaim—which she sees, rightly or wrongly, as destructive of the true artistic impulse—and obscurity, for which she is not temperamentally fitted.

God save you, dear reader, from an idée fixe, better a speck, a mote in the eye

O melhor prólogo é o que contém menos coisas, ou o que as diz de um jeito obscuro e truncado.

There was no light. The darkness was deep and there was no dazzle.

When I should have been producing obscure volumes of verse entitled the Triumph of Humpty Dumpty or the Nose with the Luminous Dong! Or at best, like Clare, weaving fearful vision ... A frustrated poet in every man. Though it is perhaps a good idea under the circumstances to pretend at least to be proceeding with one's great work on Secret Knowledge, then one can always say when it never comes out that the title explains the deficiency.

Indeed, on the face of it, this man of abnormal strength and constitution and obscure ambition, whom Hugh would never know, could never deliver nor make agreement to God for, but in his way loved and desired to help, had triumphantly succeeded in pulling himself together.

You can't reign in obscurity you can't shine in your comfort zone.

Sounds of four o'clock in the morning come to him through the window: the swish of a sprinkler on the lawn, broken cries of alarm from a parked car that can no longer bear its loneliness, the low weeping of a man in the next-door apartment, on the other side of the wall, the shriek of a nightbird nearby that can perhaps already see what is hidden from you and me.

We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing, unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.