Quotes About Perspective

But what helps? What do we need to know? Not everything. Everything confuses. Directness also confuses. The full-face portrait staring back at you hypnotises. Flaubert is usually looking away in his portraits and photographs. He's looking away so that you can't catch his eye; he's also looking away because what he can see over your shoulder is more interesting than your shoulder.

Perhaps a sense of death is like a sense of humour. We all think the one we've got - or haven't got - is just about right, and appropriate to the proper understanding of life. It's everyone else who's out of step.

Cheer up! Death is round the corner.

To be Russian was to be pessimistic; to be Soviet was to be optimistic.

One of my sons writes books I can read, but cannot understand, and the other writes books I can understand, but cannot read.

Yes it was, but as I said, it depended on where—and who—you were. If you'll excuse a brief history lesson: most people didn't experience "the sixties" until the seventies. Which meant, logically, that most people in the sixties were still experiencing the fifties—or, in my case, bits of both decades side by side. Which made things rather confusing.

For most of us, the first experience of love, even if it doesn't work out—perhaps especially when it doesn't work out—promises that here is the thing that validates, that vindicates life. And though subsequent years might alter this view, until some of us give up on it altogether, when love first strikes, there's nothing like it, is there? Agreed?

My brother distrusts the essential truth of memories; I distrust the way we colour them in. We each have our own cheap-mail-order paintbox, and our favourite hues. Thus, I remembered Grandma a few pages ago as petite and unopinionated. My brother, when consulted, takes out his paintbrush and counterproposes short and bossy.

You remembered your past in cheerful terms because this validated your existence. You didn't have to see your life as any kind of triumph – his own had hardly been that – but you did need to tell yourself that it had been interesting, enjoyable, purposeful.

the littleness of life that art exaggerates"?

The orthodoxy runs, that if a marriage is founded on less than perfect truth it will always come to light. I don't believe that. Marriage moves you further away from the examination of truth, not nearer to it.

This ought to have given him a whole storetank of existential rage, but somehow it didn't;

What is History? Any thoughts, Webster?' 'History is the lies of the victors, I replied, a little too quickly. 'Yes, I was rather afraid you'd say that. Well, as long as you remember that it is also the self-delusions of the defeated.

Adrian, however, pushed us to believe in the application of thought to life, in the notion

One test might be whether, as the years pass, you come out better from your own story, or worse. To come out worse might indicate that you are being more truthful. On the other hand, there is the danger of being retrospectively anti-heroic: making yourself out to have behaved worse than you actually did can be a form of self-praise.

Most of us have only one story to tell. I don't mean that only one thing happens to us in our lives: there are countless events, which we turn into countless stories. But there's only one that matters, only one finally worth telling. This is mine. Perhaps this is an illusion all lovers have about themselves: that they escape both category and description.

Be approximately satisfied with approximate happiness. The only thing in life which is clear and beyond doubt is unhappiness

Julian Barnes

Tai ir yra gyvenimas, ar ne? Šiek tiek pasiekim? ir šiek tiek nusivylim?.

Time … give us enough time and our best-supported decisions will seem wobbly, our certainties whimsical.

Perhaps grief, which destroys all patterns, destroys even more,: the belief that any pattern exists

What had Old Joe Hunt answered when I knowingly claimed that history was the lies of the victors? "As long as you remember that it is also the self-delusions of the defeated." Do we remember that enough when it comes to our private lives?

He survived to tell the tale"—that's what people say, don't they? History isn't the lies of the victors, as I once glibly assured Old Joe Hunt; I know that now. It's more the memories of the survivors, most of whom are neither victorious nor defeated.

When I first began to write, I laid myself the rule [...] that I should write as if my parents were dead. (Page 108, US edition)