Je ne parle pas français Quotes

“And then there is the waiter. Not pathetic-decidedly not comic. Never making one of those perfectly insignificant remarks which amaze you so coming from a waiter (as though the poor wretch were a sort of coffee-pot and a wine bottle and not expected to hold so much as a drop of anything else). He is grey, flat-footed, and withered, with long, brittle nails that set your nerves on edge while he scrapes up your two sous. When he is not smearing over the table or flicking at a dead fly or two, he stands with one hand on the back of a chair, in his far too long apron, and over his other arm the three-cornered dip of dirty napkin, waiting to be photographed in connexion with some wretched murder. “Interior of Café where Body was Found.” You’ve seen him hundreds of times.”
― Katherine Mansfield, Je ne parle pas français

“Bir şey elden gittiyse gitti demektir. Sona ermiş, bitmiştir. O zaman bırakın gitsin! Görmezden gelin onu, eğer avunmaya ihtiyacınız varsa, yitirilen şeylerin asla geri gelmediğini düşünerek avutun kendinizi: Gelse bile yeni bir şeydir artık, her seferinde yeni, başka bir şeydir. Elinizden çıktığı anda değişime uğramıştır.”
― Katherine Mansfield, Je ne parle pas français

“Query: Why am I so bitter against Life? And why do I see her as a rag-picker on the American cinema, shuffling along wrapped in a filthy shawl with her old claws crooked over a stick?

Answer: The direct result of the American cinema acting upon a weak mind.”
― Katherine Mansfield, Je ne parle pas français

“I do not know why I have such a fancy for this little café. It's dirty and sad, sad. It's not as if it had anything to distinguish it from a hundred others–it hasn't; or as if the same strange types came here every day, whom one could watch from one's corner and recognize and more or less (with a strong accent on the less) get the hang of.
But pray don't imagine that those brackets are a confession of my humility before the mystery of the human soul. Not at all; I don't believe in the human soul. I never have. I believe that people are like portmanteaux–packed with certain things, started going, thrown about, tossed away, dumped down, lost and found, half emptied suddenly, or squeezed fatter than ever, until finally the Ultimate Porter swings them on to the Ultimate Train and away they rattle. . . .”
― Katherine Mansfield, Je ne parle pas français