“No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it”
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“I'd woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.”
― The Book of Disquiet
― The Book of Disquiet
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“We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept—our own selves—that we love.”
― The Book of Disquiet
― The Book of Disquiet
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“I am nothing.
I'll never be anything.
I couldn't want to be something.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world.”
I'll never be anything.
I couldn't want to be something.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world.”
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“I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.”
― The Book of Disquiet
― The Book of Disquiet
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“We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.”
― The Book of Disquiet
― The Book of Disquiet
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“If I write what I feel, it's to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.”
― The Book of Disquiet
― The Book of Disquiet
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Your eyes go sad. You're not
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.
I tell what I've told, out of listless
Sadness, so often before ...
I think you never listened,
So you're away you are.
All of a sudden, an absent
Stare, you look at me, still
Immeasurably distant,
You begin a smile.
I go on talking. You
Go on listening - your own
Thoughts you listen to,
The smile as good as gone,
Until, through the loafing
Afternoon's waste of while,
The silence self-unleafing
Of your useless smile.
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.
I tell what I've told, out of listless
Sadness, so often before ...
I think you never listened,
So you're away you are.
All of a sudden, an absent
Stare, you look at me, still
Immeasurably distant,
You begin a smile.
I go on talking. You
Go on listening - your own
Thoughts you listen to,
The smile as good as gone,
Until, through the loafing
Afternoon's waste of while,
The silence self-unleafing
Of your useless smile.
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Famous Last Words #1
“I must go in, the fog is rising.”
– Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
“I must go in, the fog is rising.”
– Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
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Vincent van Gogh
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Born : March 30th, 1853
Died : July 29th, 1890 (aged 37)
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Dutch painter, generally considered the greatest after Rembrandt van Rijn, and one of the greatest of the Post-Impressionists. The striking colour, emphatic brushwork, and contoured forms of his work powerfully influenced the current of Expressionism in modern art. Van Gogh’s art became astoundingly popular after his death, especially in the late 20th century, when his work sold for record-breaking sums at auctions around the world and was featured in blockbuster touring exhibitions. In part because of his extensive published letters, van Gogh has also been mythologized in the popular imagination as the quintessential tortured artist.
His artistic career was extremely short, lasting only the 10 years from 1880 to 1890. During the first four years of this period, while acquiring technical proficiency, he confined himself almost entirely to drawings and watercolours.
_______
Born : March 30th, 1853
Died : July 29th, 1890 (aged 37)
_______
Dutch painter, generally considered the greatest after Rembrandt van Rijn, and one of the greatest of the Post-Impressionists. The striking colour, emphatic brushwork, and contoured forms of his work powerfully influenced the current of Expressionism in modern art. Van Gogh’s art became astoundingly popular after his death, especially in the late 20th century, when his work sold for record-breaking sums at auctions around the world and was featured in blockbuster touring exhibitions. In part because of his extensive published letters, van Gogh has also been mythologized in the popular imagination as the quintessential tortured artist.
His artistic career was extremely short, lasting only the 10 years from 1880 to 1890. During the first four years of this period, while acquiring technical proficiency, he confined himself almost entirely to drawings and watercolours.
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“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.”
“...and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?”
“A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke”
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“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.”
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“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.”
“I put my heart and soul into my work, and I have lost my mind in the process.”
“I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.”
“What am I in the eyes of most people — a nonentity, an eccentric, or an unpleasant person — somebody who has no position in society and will never have; in short, the lowest of the low. All right, then — even if that were absolutely true, then I should one day like to show by my work what such an eccentric, such a nobody, has in his heart. That is my ambition, based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion. Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside me. I see paintings or drawings in the poorest cottages, in the dirtiest corners. And my mind is driven towards these things with an irresistible momentum.”