Ballad Of The Sad Cafe Quotes

He fluttered his eyelids, so that they were like pale, trapped moths in his sockets.

Love is a joint experience between two persons—but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which has lain quiet in the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer.

Once you have lived with another, it is a great torture to have to live alone. The silence of a firelit room when suddenly the clock stops ticking, the nervous shadows in an empty house — it is better to take in your mortal enemy than face the terror of living alone.

İçindeki umutsuzlukla sımsıkı sarıldı çocuğa. Sanki gösterdiği sevgi kadar değişken bir duygu zamanın akışını yönlendirebilirmişçesine...

Ninguno de ellos sabía por qué estaban allí o lo que harían, pero sabían que tenían que esperar, y que la hora se acercaba

La persona más mediocre puede ser objeto de un amor arrebatado, extravagante y bello como los lirios venenosos de las ciénagas

İnsan yaşamının 'doğaçlamasını', hiçbir şey bitmemiş bir ezgi kadar iyi anlatamaz. Ya da eski bir adres defteri kadar.

ด้วยเหตุผลนี้เอง คนเราส่วนใหญ่จึงอยากเป็นฝ่ายรักมากกว่าถูกรัก แทบทุกคนอยากเป็นผู้รัก และความสัตย์จริงแบบไม่ปรุงแต่งนั้น คือลึกลงไปแล้วภาวะของการถูกรักนั้นออกจะเป็นสิ่งเกินทนสำหรับหลายคน ผู้ถูกรักหวาดกลัวและจงชังผู้รัก และด้วยเหตุผลดียิ่ง ทั้งนี้เพราะผู้รักมักพยายามเปลื้องตัวตนผู้ถูกรักให้เปล่าเปลือยอยู่ไม่รู้จบ ผู้รักโหยหาความเกี่ยวข้องกับผู้ถูกรักเท่าที่จะเป็นไปได้ แม้ประสบการณ์นี้จะทำให้เขามีแต่ความเจ็บปวดเท่านั้น

ด้วยเหตุผลนี้เอง คนเราส่วนใหญ่จึงอยากเป็นฝ่ายรักมากกว่าถูกรัก แทบทุกคนอยากเป็นผู้รัก และความสัตย์จริงแบบไม่ปรุงแต่งนั้น คือลึกเร้นไปแล้วภาวะของการถูกรักนั้นออกจะเป็นสิ่งเกินทนสำหรับหลายคน ผู้ถูกรักหวาดกลัวและจงชังผู้รัก และด้วยเหตุผลดียิ่ง ทั้งนี้เพราะผู้รักมักพยายามเปลื้องตัวตนผู้ถูกรักให้เปล่าเปลือยอยู่ไม่รู้จบ ผู้รักโหยหาความเกี่ยวข้องกับผู้ถูกรักเท่าที่จะเป็นไปได้ แม้ประสบการณ์นี้จะทำให้เขามีแต่ความเจ็บปวดเท่านั้น

... İyi dinle. Sevgiyi düşündüm ve bir çözüme vardım. Nerede yanıldığımızı anladım. Diyelim ki insan ilk kez seviyor. Peki neyi seviyor?” Çocuğun yumuşak dudakları yarı aralıktı. Hiç sesini çıkarmadı. “Bir kadını,” dedi yaşlı adam. “Bilimsiz, dayanaksız, Tanrı’nın dünyasındaki en tehlikeli ve kutsal deneyime girişiyor. Bir kadını seviyor. Tamam mı, evlat?” “Evet,” dedi çocuk yavaşça. “Sevmeye yanlış yönden başlıyor. En sonundan başlıyor. Böyle çile çekmesine şaşacak ne var? İnsan nasıl sevmeli biliyor musun?” Yaşlı adam uzanıp çocuğun deri ceketinin yakasını tuttu. Hafifçe sarstı onu. Yeşil gözlerini hiç kırpmadan ciddi ciddi bakıyordu. “Evlat, sevmeye nereden başlamalı biliyor musun?” Çocuk daha da büzülmüş, kımıldamadan oturmuş dinliyordu. Yavaş yavaş başını ikiyana salladı. Yaşlı adam ona doğru eğilip fısıldadı: “Bir ağaçtan. Bir taştan. Bir buluttan.

First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons – but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which has lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world – a world intense and strange, complete in himself.

The autumn was a happy time. The crops around the countryside were good, and over at the Forks Falls market the price of tobacco held firm that year. After the long hot summer the first cool days had a clean bright sweetness. Goldenrod grew along the dusty roads, and the sugar cane was ripe and purple. The bus came each day from Cheehaw to carry a few of the younger children to the consolidated school to get an education. Boys hunted foxes in the pinewoods, winter quilts were aired out on the wash lines, and sweet potatoes bedded in the ground with straw against the colder months to come. In the evening, delicate shreds of smoke rose from the chimneys, and the moon was round and orange in the autumn sky. There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall. Sometimes, late in the night when there was no wind, there could be heard in the town the thin wild whistle of the train that goes through Society City on its way far off to the North.

First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons - but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which has lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feeds in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange lonliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best as he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world - a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring - this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth. Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon, two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greay-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else - but that does not effect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poisonlilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both voilent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself. It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved hates and fears the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.