Lara > Lara's Quotes

“Een kunstwerk kan ons op velerlei manieren aanspreken: door zijn thema, zijn thesen, zijn onderwerp of zijn helden. Maar het meest van alles spreekt het ons toch aan door de aanwezigheid van kunst, want die aanwezigheid van kunst op de bladzijden van 'Misdaad en Straf' brengt de lezer in groter beroering dan de misdaad van Raskolnikov zelf. De primitieve kunst, de Egyptische kunst, de Griekse kunst, onze kunst, -dat alles is in een tijdsbestek van vele duizenden jaren één en dezelfde, enkelvoudige kunst. Daar ben ik van overtuigd. Zij houden een bepaalde gedachte in, een bepaalde bevestiging van het leven die zo allesomvattend is, dat zij niet in afzonderlijke woorden ontleed kan worden. Als een korrel van deze kracht in een gecompliceerder mengsel terechtkomt, krijgt dit bijmengsel van kunst op de betekenis van al het overige de overhand en blijkt het de kern, de ziel en de grondslag van het uitgebeelde te zijn.”
― Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

“Zij was nog een meisje, een kind, maar in haar ogen en op haar gezicht kon je de waakzaamheid en de onrust van deze eeuw al aflezen. Alle thema's, alle tranen en beledigingen, alle beweegredenen, alle opgehoopte haat en trots van deze eeuw stonden op haar gezicht en postuur geschreven, in het mengsel ook van haar meisjesachtige bedeesdheid en haar vermetele gratie. Je kon uit haar naam en uit haar lippen de aanklacht tegen deze eeuw indienen en uitroepen. U zult moeten toegeven, dat dat geen kleinigheid was. Het had iets van een voorbeschikking, van een voorteken ook. Het was iets, waar zij van nature over beschikt moet hebben, iets waar zij recht op gehad moet hebben.”
― Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

“There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal. I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge—even wisdom. Like art.
—Toni Morrison, “No Place for Self-Pity, No Room for Fear,” The Nation, 23 Mar. 2015”
― Toni Morrison

“Don't be afraid. My telling can't hurt you in spite of what I have done and I promise to lie quietly in the dark - weeping perhaps or occasionally seeing the blood once more - but I will never again unfold my limbs to rise up and bare teeth. I explain. You can think what I tell you a confession, if you like, but one full of curiosities familiar only in dreams and during those moments when a dog's profile plays in the steam of a kettle. Or when a corn-husk doll sitting on a shelf is soon splaying in the corner of a room and the wicked of how it got there is plain. Stranger things happen all the time everywhere. You know. I know you know. One question is who is responsible? Another is can you read?”
― Toni Morrison, A Mercy

“Als ik één ding kan is het liefhebben. Dat lijkt niet veel bijzonders, maar ik ben er trots op.
Ik heb het geleerd zoals een zwerfhond leert zwemmen: omdat hij met de rest van de worp in een jutezak werd gepropt en in een snelstromende rivier is geworpen.
Die ene die het tegen alle verwachtingen in gered heeft, dat ben ik.
Met in mijn oren nog het gejank van degenen die het niet haalden, moest ik leren ergens van te houden.
Ik ben niet onder gegaan.
Ik heb de kant bereikt.
Ik heb lief.
Andere mensen dragen hun verdriet in hun hart.
Ongezien holt dat hen vanbinnen uit. Het is mijn redding geweest dat ik mijn verdriet aan de buitenkant draag, waar het niemand kan ontgaan.
”
― Arthur Japin, Een schitterend gebrek

“Hierdoor duurde het even voor ik doorzag wat de Hollanders zelf allang wisten, dat tolerantie iets anders is dan acceptatie, ja eerder het tegenovergestelde, en dat zulke verdraagzaamheid tegelijk een slim middel tot onderdrukking is. Iemand die je als gelijke aanneemt, omarm je onvoorwaardelijk, voor eens en altijd. Maar door iemand te laten weten dat je hem verdraagt, suggereer je in dezelfde adem dat hij eigenlijk een last is, als een zeurende pijn of een onaangename stank waarover je bereid bent tijdelijk heen te stappen. Onder tolerantie schuilt een dreiging: de stemming kan ieder moment omslaan. Eenmaal in kaart gebracht wordt ieder individu geacht keurig op zijn plek te blijven met een goed leesbaar etiket, als vergiften in een apothekerskast.”
― Arthur Japin, In Lucia's Eyes

“I don't think I could love you so much if you had nothing to complain of and nothing to regret. I don't like people who have never fallen or stumbled. Their virtue is lifeless and of little value. Life hasn't revealed its beauty to them.”
― Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

“They would come with languages that sounded like dog bark; with a childish hunger for animal fur. They would forever fence land, ship whole trees to faraway countries, take any women for quick pleasure, ruin soil, befoul sacred places and worship a dull, unimaginative god. They let their hogs browse the ocean shore turning it into dunes of sand where nothing green can ever grow again. Cut loose from the earth's soul, they insisted on purchase of its soil, and like all orphans they were insatiable. It was their destiny to chew up the world and spit out a horribleness that would destroy all primary peoples.”
― Toni Morisson

“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole goddamned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidate who reminded them most of themselves.”
― Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

“What's burning down is a re-creation of a period revival house patterned after a copy of a copy of a copy of a mock Tudor big manor house. It's a hundred generations removed from anything original, but the truth is aren't we all?”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters

“There was no sense to life, to the structure of things. D.H. Lawrence had known that. You needed love, but not the kind of love most people used and were used up by. Old D.H. had known something. His buddy Huxley was just an intellectual fidget, but what a marvelous one. Better than G.B. Shaw with that hard keel of a mind always scraping bottom, his labored wit finally only a task, a burden on himself, preventing him from really feeling anything, his brilliant speech finally a bore, scraping the mind and the sensibilities. It was good to read them all though. It made you realize that thoughts and words could be fascinating, if finally useless.”
― Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

“More than fear of loving bears or birds bigger than cows, I fear pathless nights. How, I wonder, can I find you in the dark?”
― Toni Morrison, A Mercy

“Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“I am nothing to you. You say I am wilderness. I am. Is that a tremble on your mouth, in your eye? Are you afraid? You should be.”
― Toni Morrison, A Mercy

“You are my shaper and my world as well. It is done. No need to choose.”
― Toni Morrison, A Mercy

“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste!”
― Andre Aciman, Call Me by Your Name

“Altijd zal het lichaam van de stemloze als eerste vallen.”
― Rachida Lamrabet, Zwijg, allochtoon!

“I tell you this not as aimless revelation but because I want you to know, as you read me, precisely who I am and where I am and what is on my mind. I want you to understand exactly what you are getting: you are getting a woman who for some time now has felt radically separated from most of the ideas that seem to interest people. You are getting a woman who somewhere along the line misplaced whatever slight faith she ever had in the social contract, in the meliorative principle, in the whole grand pattern of human endeavor. Quite often during the past several years I have felt myself a sleepwalker, moving through the world unconscious of the moment’s high issues, oblivious to its data, alert only to the stuff of bad dreams, the children burning in the locked car in the supermarket parking lot, the bike boys stripping down stolen cars on the captive cripple’s ranch, the freeway sniper who feels “real bad” about picking off the family of five, the hustlers, the insane, the cunning Okie faces that turn up in military investigations, the sullen lurkers in doorways, the lost children, all the ignorant armies jostling in the night. Acquaintances read The New York Times, and try to tell me the news of the world. I listen to call-in shows.”
― Joan Didion, The White Album

“All I ever did to that apartment was hang fifty yards of yellow theatrical silk across the bedroom windows, because I had some idea that the gold light would make me feel better, but I did not bother to weight the curtains correctly and all that summer the long panels of transparent golden silk would blow out the windows and get tangled and drenched in afternoon thunderstorms. That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and ever procrastination, every word, all of it.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“Although to be driven back upon oneself is an uneasy affair at best, rather like trying to cross a border with borrowed credentials, it seems to me now the one condition necessary to the beginning of self-respect. Most of our platitudes notwithstanding, self-deception remains the most difficult deception. The tricks that work on others count for nothing in that very well-lit back alley where one keeps assignations with oneself: no winning smiles will do here, no prettily drawn lists of good intentions.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were. I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be…”
― joan didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“Like Jordan Baker, people with self-respect have the courage of their mistakes. They know the price of things. If they choose to commit adultery, they do not then go running, in an access of bad conscience, to receive absolution from the wronged parties; nor do they complain unduly of the unfairness, the undeserved embarrassment, of being named co-respondent. In brief, people with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of moral nerve; they display what was once called character, a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to other, more instantly negotiable virtues.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“It is the phenomenon somethings called "alienation from self." In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the specter of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that answering it becomes out of the question. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves - there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself. I suppose that it begins or does not begin in the cradle. Although I have felt compelled to write things down since I was five years old, I doubt that my daughter ever will, for she is a singularly blessed and accepting child, delighted with life exactly as life presents itself to her, unafraid to go to sleep and unafraid to wake up. Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“People with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of moral nerve; they display what was once called *character,* a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to the other, more instantly negotiable virtues.... character--the willingness to accept responsibility for one's own life--is the source from which self-respect springs.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

“Stories are wild creatures, the monster said. When you let them loose, who knows what havoc they might wreak?”
― Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls

“Because humans are complicated beasts, the monster said. How can a queen be both a good witch and a bad witch? How can a prince be a murderer and a saviour? How can an apothecary be evil-tempered but right-thinking? How can a parson be wrong-thinking but good-hearted? How can invisible men make themselves more lonely by being seen?

"I don't know," Connor shrugged, exhausted. "Your stories never made any sense to me."

The answer is that it does not matter what you think, the monster said, because your mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day. You wanted her to go at the same time you were desperate for me to save her. Your mind will believe comforting lies while also knowing the painful truths that make those lies necessary. And your mind will punish you for believing both.”
― Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls

“You were merely wishing for the end of pain, the monster said. Your own pain. An end to how it isolated you. It is the most human wish of all.”
― Patrick Ness, A Monster Calls

“If any female feels she need anything beyond herself to legitimate and validate her existence, she is already giving away her power to be self-defining, her agency.”
― bell hooks, Feminism Is for Everybody: Passionate Politics

“Krop

Ze staat bij het raam in de diepte
Te staren en wijst naar de mensen,
Ze zegt het alweer en alweer:
Het leven is niets, het is niets.

Hoor toch hoe flemend dat klinkt
Als ze fluistert en kreunt, met die wellust,
Het leven is niets, het is niets.

Het zwelt haar de mond uit, een lofzang
Op onze vergeefsheid, ze stelt me
De dood in een duidelijk daglicht,
Het leven is niets, het is niets.

En ik ga al, ik raap haar weer op
Uit die diepte en draag haar naar bed
En druk me weer tegen haar aan.

Ik ruk haar gezicht naar me toe
En lik en slik al haar tranen.
Ik eet haar zo gulzig de krop
Uit de keel dat zij snikt diep in mij.”
― Leonard Nolens, Liefdes verklaringen