Quotes About Reflection

Lots of people perish on the highways. All those faces should be preserved, engagements kept, promises upheld. Impossible. I walked out instantly. Fleeing the scene of a crime. That kind of game can destroy you. Anyway, I've never known who I was. I authorize my biographer to simply call me "a man," and I wish him luck. I've been unable to lengthen my stride, my breath, or my sentences. He won't understand the first thing about this story. Neither do I. We're even.

Why do people whose existence you are unaware of, whom you meet once and will never see again, come to play, behind the scenes, an important role in your life?

We discover, often too late to talk to him about it, an episode from his life that a loved one has concealed from you. Has he really hidden it from you? He has forgotten, or more likely, over time, he no longer thinks about it. Or, quite simply, he can't find the words.

After all, the war doesn't alter my relationship with a blade of grass.

He was seeking a lost innocence and settings made for enjoyment and ease, but where one could never be happy again.

Il essayait vainement de se rappeler dans quel livre était écrit que chaque première rencontre est une blessure.

Sundays, especially in late afternoon, if you are alone, open a breach in time.

People don't come back any more. Haven't you noticed that, Monsieur?

Il lui semblait atteindre un carrefour de sa vie, ou plutôt une lisière d'où il pourrait s'élancer vers l'avenir. Pour la première fois, il avait dans la tête le mot avenir, et un autre mot: l'horizon. Ces soirs-là, les rues désertes et silencieuses du quartier étaient des lignes de fuite, qui débouchaient toutes sur l'avenir et l'HORIZON.

One has to retire eventually, Guy.

il semble que ce qui vous pousse brusquement à la fugue, ce soit un jour de froid et de grisaille qui vous rend encore plus vive la solitude et vous fait sentir encore plus fort qu'un étau se resserre.

And then the next fifteen years fell apart: a few blurry faces, a few vague memories, ashes...

H?n anh t?ng hi v?ng già ?i cùng cô ?y?

In those days, I thought I was happy.

Je n'étais vraiment moi–même qu'à l'instant où je m'enfuyais. Mes seuls bons souvenirs sont des souvenirs de fuite ou de fugue.

Parfois, le cœur se serre à la pensée des choses qui auraient pu être et qui n'ont pas été.

The letters dance before my eyes. Who am I?

The other day, I happened to walk through it. I had a strange sensation. Not that time had passed, but that another me, a twin, was prowling around there -- down to the smallest detail, and until the end of time -- through what I had experienced over a very short period.

There are blanks in a life, but also sometimes what they call a refrain. For periods of varying length, you don't hear this refrain, as if you've forgotten it.

I'm afraid that once you have all the answers, your life closes in on you like a trap, with the clank of keys in a prison cell. Wouldn't it be better to leave empty lots around you, into which you can escape?

But these memories drifted away like bubbles of soap or fragments of a dream that vanished on waking.

For me, autumn has never been a sad season. The dying leaves and the days that grow shorter and shorter have never evoked the end of something for me but instead brought with them anticipation for the future. In Paris, during these October evenings, there is an electricity in the air at dusk. Even when it rains. I don't feel down at that time of night, nor does it seem that time is passing too swiftly. I have the feeling that anything is possible.

No hay mejor sistema para que se desvanezcan los fantasmas que mirarles a los ojos.

Và r?i c?ng có n?i s? b?n ch?n ?ó, th?nh tho?ng, tr??c vi?n c?nh các vai ph? mà ta ?? l?i sau l?ng có th? tìm th?y ta mà ?òi tính s?.