Quotes About Self

What a fuss for a name: famous or not, it's only a ribbon tied around a sack randomly filled with blood, flesh, words, shit, and petty thoughts.

in his view love ended only when it was possible to return to oneself without fear or disgust

Ognuno si racconta la vita come gli fa comodo.

I cried and cried, as if I had carelessly lost somewhere the most promising part of myself.

vivíamos, cuántos fragmentos de nosotros mismos salían volando como si vivir fuese estallar en esquirlas.

Eh, she said once, what a fuss for a name: famous or not, it's only a ribbon tied around a sack randomly filled with blood, flesh, words, shit, and petty thoughts. She mocked me at length on that point: I untie the ribbon—Elena Greco—and the sack stays there, it functions just the same, haphazardly, of course, without virtues or vices, until it breaks.

But I've always had a low voice, I can't yell, the words fall a short distance away like a handful of pebbles thrown by a child.

As for me, it's hard to say in what tangle of feelings I found myself. I always defended Lila, and I liked doing so, I liked to hear myself speak with the authority of one who is studying difficult subjects.

lo que le pasa a las personas: llevamos dentro demasiadas cosas y eso nos hincha, nos rompe.

Cada cual se organiza el recuerdo como le conviene.

He had rid himself so fiercely of memory, language, the capacity to find meaning that it seemed obvious the hatred he had for himself, for his own skin, for his moods, for his thoughts and words, for the brutal corner of the world that had enveloped him.

el más engañado era yo, engañado por mí mismo...

Ognuno si racconta la vita come gli fa comodo».

el amor terminaba solo cuando era posible regresar sin temor o disgusto a sí mismos

Loving courses together with hating, and I can't, I can't manage to solidify myself around any goodwill.

a woman without love for her origins is lost.

Move on another plane in the name of one's own difference.

The better and truer you feel, the farther away you go.

In quale disordine vivevamo, quanti frammenti di noi stessi schizzavano via come se vivere fosse esplodere in schegge.

Without reserve, I can say that my entire identity is in the books I write.

Byla jsem jediný možný zdroj pÃ…â"¢íbÄ›hu, nemohla jsem a ani jsem nechtÄ›la pátrat mimo sebe.

Ich liebte sie beide, daher gelang es mir nicht, mich selbst zu lieben, mich zu spüren, mich mit meinem Bedürfnis nach Leben zu behaupten, das die gleiche blinde und taube Kraft hatte wie ihres. So kam es mir vor.

Ti ricordi quello che facemmo con la mia foto di sposa? Voglio continuare per quella strada. Viene il giorno che mi riduco tutta a diagrammi, divento un nastro bucherellato e non mi trovi più.

I wrote my book to free myself from it, not to be its prisoner.