Author 237599

Jorge Luis

Argentine Short-Story Writer, Essayist, Poet

Author Quotes

I agonized with him, I died with him, somehow I missed him; why, I was implacable.

I believe the secret of the success of psychoanalysis resides in people's vanity.

I do not have my hair style but time has taught me a few tricks, including avoiding vocabulary, which is flawed by suggesting variations, as well as avoid the Spanish expressions and Argentine strange ones and the preference for words familiar to the surprising bearing in mind that these rules are not binding and that Time will cancel, they are rules do not evaluate the way.

I foresee that man will resign himself each day to new abominations, and soon that only bandits and soldiers will be left... Whosoever would undertake some atrocious enterprise should act as if it were already accomplished, should impose upon himself a future as irrevocable as the past.

I have no personal system of philosophy. I never attempt to do that. I am merely a man of letters.

I live in a grey world, rather like the silver screen world. But yellow stands out.

I remember (I have no right to utter this sacred verb, only one man on earth was right and that man is dead) with a passion dark in hand, seeing it as no one has seen, though the look from the twilight of day to night, whole lifetime.

I think my days and nights are equal in poverty and wealth to God and of all men.

I will pause to consider this eternity from which the subsequent ones derive.

If for everything there and a measure and last time and never and I forget who tell us to whom in this house, without knowing it , we said goodbye?

I'm that awkward intensity that is a soul.

In fact, sleep, wake up, there is no human encounter with itself.

In this night too, in this night of his mortal eyes into which he was now descending, love and danger were again waiting... a murmur of glory and hexameters, of men defending a temple the gods will not save, and of black vessels searching the sea for a beloved isle; the murmor of the Odysseys and Iliads it was his destiny to sing and leave echoing concavely in the memory of man. These things we know, but not those he felt descending into the last shade of all.

It is generally understood that a modern-day book may honorably be based upon an older one, especially since, as Dr. Johnson observed, no man likes owing anything to his contemporaries. The repeated but irrelevant points of congruence between Joyce's Ulysses and Homer's Odyssey continue to attract (though I shall never understand why) the dazzled admiration of critics.

It's enough that if I am rich in anything, it is in perplexities rather than in certainties.

Life itself is a quotation.

Love that does not expect to be loved.

Art always opts for the individual, the concrete; art is not Platonic.

At the beginning of their careers many writers have a need to overwrite. They choose carefully turned-out phrases; they want to impress their readers with their large vocabularies. By the excesses of their language, these young men and women try to hide their sense of inexperience. With maturity the writer becomes more secure in his ideas. He finds his real tone and develops a simple and effective style.

Blind to all fault, destiny can be ruthless at one's slightest distraction.

Changing the past is not to change a single fact; It is to cancel its consequences, which tend to be infinite

Do you want to see what human eyes have never seen? Look at the moon. Do you want to hear what ears have never heard? Listen to the bird's cry. Do you want to touch what hands have never touched? Touch the earth. Verily I say that God is about to create the world.

Every writer creates his own precursors. His work modifies our conception of the past, as it will modify the future.

Friendship unites; also known hatred together.

Had I to give advice to writers (and I do not think they need it, because everyone has to find out things for himself), I would tell them simply this; I would ask them to tamper as little as they can with their own work. I do not think tinkering does any good. The moment comes when one has found out what one can do - when one has found one's natural voice, one's rhythm. Then I do not think that slight emendations should prove useful.

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Jorge Luis
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Argentine Short-Story Writer, Essayist, Poet