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most people only move in order to give up their own position in the world and to usurp that of another, and for one reason only, to forget about themselves and to bury what they were, we all at some time grow unutterably weary of being who we are and who we were.
It was simply a matter of accepting the belief or superstition that what one doesn’t say doesn’t exist. And it’s true that the only things never translated are those never spoken or expressed.
our refusal to share what was a secret to neither of us, but which was, nonetheless, becoming a secret by virtue of our not sharing it.
Almost everyone feels ashamed of their youth, it isn’t true that we feel nostalgia for it, rather we banish it or flee from it and, with varying degrees of ease or difficulty, we confine our origins to the sphere of bad dreams or novels, or to what never existed.
as if they were afraid of nothing and as if nothing could ever harm them,
People only get married when they’ve no other option, out of panic or desperation or so as not to lose someone they couldn’t bear to lose. It’s always the most conventional things that contain the largest measure of madness.
although once you know about something, it’s difficult to know whether you wanted to know about it or would have preferred to remain in ignorance.
Respect inhibits certain conversations, and so you end up never having them.”
it’s easy to want to know nothing when you still don’t know, once you do, you’ve no choice,
Real togetherness in married couples and indeed in any couple comes from words, not just the words that are spoken – spoken voluntarily – but the words one doesn’t keep to oneself – at least not without the intervention of the will.
there are no secrets between people who share a bed, the bed is like a confessional.
that’s the one advantage of repetition, it distorts everything and makes it familiar, what repels you in real life you end up finding attractive if you see it often enough on the TV screen.
“Now what?” The only way of escaping from that question is not by repeating it but by not allowing it to exist, by not asking it or allowing anyone else to ask it of you.
The truth never shines forth, as the saying goes, because the only truth is that which is known to no one and which remains untransmitted, that which is not translated into words or images, that which remains concealed and unverified, which is perhaps why we do recount so much or even everything, to make sure that nothing has ever really happened, not once it’s been told.
Keeping silent and speaking are ways of intervening in the future.
“Everything can be told. It’s just a matter of starting, one word follows another.”
whether feigned or not, nothing is as exhausting as grief.
It’s odd the way sometimes a thought comes to us with such force and clarity that nothing can stand between it and its execution.
You think of a possibility and it ceases to be just a possibility, you act on what you think and it becomes a thing accomplished,
Using one’s imagination avoids many misfortunes,”
