Cesare Pavese Quotes

Every luxury must be paid for, and everything is a luxury, starting with being in this world.

We do not remember days, we remember moments.

We do not remember days, we remember moments. The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.

The cadence of suffering has begun - Cesare Pavese I am in pieces.

Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things: air, sleep, dreams, sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.

Perfect behavior is born of complete indifference. Perhaps this is why we always love madly someone who treats us with indifference.

We do not remember days, we remember moments. –Cesare Pavese

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

The great lovers will always be unhappy, because for them love is great and so they ask of their beloved the same intensity of thought that they have for her – otherwise they feel betrayed.

From someone who doesn't want to share your destiny, you should neither accept a cigarette

The only joy in the world is to begin.

The words that strike us are those that awake an echo in a zone we have already made our own—the place where we live—and the vibration enables us to find fresh starting points within ourselves.

The whole problem of life is this: how to break out of one's own solitude, how to communicate with others.

On March 23, 1950, Italian poet Cesare Pavese wrote: 'Love is truly the great manifesto; the urge to be, to count for something, and, if death must come, to die valiantly, with acclamation--in short, to remain a memory.

On ne se souvient pas des jours, on se souvient des instants.

One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love—any love—reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.

We do not remember days, we remember moments.” —Cesare Pavese

You will be loved the day when you will be able to show your weakness without the other person using it to assert his strength.

There is mercy for everyone, except those who are bored with life.

FINCH : Day 75 "The cadence of suffering has begun."-Cesare Pavese I am in pieces.

Vei fi iubit în ziua în care vei putea să-ţi arăţi slăbiciunile fără ca celălalt să se folosească de asta pentru a-şi spori puterea.

Life is pain and the enjoyment of love is an anesthetic.

The cadence of suffering has begun. Every evening at dusk, my heart constricts until night has come.

Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi. (Death will come and it will have your eyes.)

Leggendo non cerchiamo idee nuove, ma pensieri già da noi pensati, che acquistano sulla pagina un suggello di conferma.

But here's the worst part: the trick to life lies in hiding from those we hold most dear how much they mean to is; if not, we'd lose them.

Non si ricordano i giorni, si ricordano gli attimi.

Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

We do not remember days, we remember moments

all is the same time has gone by some day you come some day you'll die someone has died long time ago.

Even something harsh and difficult is a comfort if we choose it ourselves. If it is imposed on us by others, it is agony.

Life is not a search for experience, but for ourselves. Having discovered our own fundamental level we realize that it conforms to our own destiny and we find peace.

ينبغى أن يكون المرء مجنوناً لا حالماً... بمقدور المجنون أن يصير حكيماً، لكن ليس بمقدور الحالم سوى أن ينفصل عن الأرض. للمجنون أعداء. وليس للحالم إلا نفسه

Un paese ci vuole, non fosse che per il gusto di andarsene via.

Leggendo non cerchiamo idee nuove, ma pensieri già da noi pensati, che acquistano sulla pagina un suggello di conferma. Ci colpiscono degli altri le parole che risuonano in una zona già nostra – che già viviamo – e facendola vibrare ci permettono di cogliere nuovi spunti dentro di noi.

Waiting is still an occupation. It is having nothing to wait for that is terrible.

Ti ride negli occhi la stranezza di un cielo che non è il tuo.

If it is true that one gets used to suffering, how is it that as the years go one always suffers more? No, they are not mad, those people who amuse themselves, enjoy life, travel, make love, fight—they are not mad. We should like to do the same ourselves.

The cadence of suffering has begun.

Se întâmpla ca o femeie să întâlnească o epavă şi să decidă să facă din ea un bărbat sănătos. Uneori, reuşeşte. Se întâmplă ca o femeie să întâlnească un bărbat sănătos şi să decidă să facă din el o epavă. Chestia asta îi reuşeşte întotdeauna.

La letteratura è una difesa contro le offese della vita.

I spent the whole evening sitting before a mirror to keep myself company.

You are like a cloud Glimpsed between the branches. In your eyes there shines The strangeness of a sky that isn’t yours.

Why does a man who is truly in love insist that this relationship must continue and be "lifelong"? Because life is pain and the enjoyment of love is an anesthetic. Who would want to wake up halfway through an operation?

يجب أن نلاحظ ما يلي: فى أيامنا هذه، الانتحار وسيلة للغياب.يرتكب فى خجل، و فى صمت و انبطاح. لم يعد الإنتحار تصرفاً حراً بل فعل استسلام. من يدرى هل سيعود الإنتحار المتفائل ثانية إلى العالم؟؟

Così questo paese, dove non sono nato, ho creduto per molto tempo che fosse tutto il mondo. Adesso che il mondo l'ho visto davvero e so che è fatto di tanti piccoli paesi, non so se da ragazzo mi sbagliavo poi di molto.

We do not remember days, we remember moments. —CESARE PAVESE

L’unica gioia al mondo è cominciare. È bello vivere perché vivere è cominciare, sempre, ad ogni istante. Quando manca questo senso – prigione, malattia, abitudine, stupidità –, si vorrebbe morire.

Tu seras aimé le jour où tu pourras montrer tes faiblesses sans que l'autre s'en serve pour augmenter sa force.

The only reason why we are always thinking of our own ego is that we have to live with it more continuously than with anyone else's.

In sostanza chiedevo un letargo, un anestetico, una certezza di essere ben nascosto. Non chiedevo la pace nel mondo, chiedevo la mia.

Un paese ci vuole, non fosse che per il gusto di andarsene via. Un paese vuol dire non essere soli, sapere che nella gente, nelle piante, nella terra c'è qualcosa di tuo, che anche quando non ci sei resta ad aspettarti.

Ma la grande, la tremenda verità è questa: soffrire non serve a niente.

si era fermata e si era messa a piangere perché dormire era una stupidaggine e rubava tempo all'allegria.

We do not remember days, we remember moments. -Cesare Pavese

We do not remember days, we remember moments.” — Cesare Pavese

- Non sei mica fascista? - mi disse. Era seria e rideva. Le presi la mano e sbuffai. - Lo siamo tutti, cara Cate, - dissi piano. - Se non lo fossimo, dovremmo rivoltarci, tirare bombe, rischiare la pelle. Chi lascia fare e s'accontenta, è già un fascista

Will power is the only tensile strength of one's own disposition. One cannot increase it by a single ounce.

Non c'è niente che sappia di morte, - continuò, - più del sole d'estate, della gran luce, della natura esuberante. Tu fiuti l'aria e senti il bosco, e ti accorgi che piante e bestie se ne infischiano di te. Tutto vive e si macera in se stesso. La natura è la morte...

Un paese ci vuole, non fosse che per il gusto di andarsene via. Un paese vuol dire non essere soli, sapere che nella gente, nelle piante, nella terra c’è qualcosa di tuo, che anche quando non ci sei resta ad aspettarti" -La luna e i falò-

Serás amado el día en que puedas mostrar tu debilidad sin que el otro se sirva de esta para afirmar su fuerza

Human imagination is immensely poorer than reality.

Misfortunes cannot suffice to make a fool into an intelligent man

لكن الحقيقة الكبرى والفظيعة هى هاته: الألم لا يفيد فى شىء

Sono libri, - disse lui, - leggici dentro fin che puoi. Sarai sempre un tapino se non leggi nei libri.

If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Cesare Pavese

Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi- questa morte che ci accompagna dal mattino alla sera, insonne, sorda, come un vecchio rimorso o un vizio assurdo. I tuoi occhi saranno una vana parola, un grido taciuto, un silenzio. Così li vedi ogni mattina quando su te sola ti pieghi nello specchio. O cara speranza, quel giorno sapremo anche noi che sei la vita e sei il nulla. Per tutti la morte ha uno sguardo. Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi. Sarà come smettere un vizio, come vedere nello specchio riemergere un viso morto, come ascoltare un labbro chiuso. Scenderemo nel gorgo muti.

Death Will Come with Your Eyes" Death will come with your eyes— this death that accompanies us from morning till night, sleepless, deaf, like an old regret or a stupid vice. Your eyes will be a useless word, a muted cry, a silence. As you see them each morning when alone you lean over the mirror. O cherished hope, that day we too shall know that you are life and nothing. For everyone death has a look. Death will come with your eyes. It will be like terminating a vice, as seen in the mirror a dead face re-emerging, like listening to closed lips. We’ll go down the abyss in silence.

Prova a dire ai mortali queste cose che sai.

uçurumdan kurtulmanın tek yolu ona bakmak, derinliğini ölçmek ve kendini o boşluğa bırakmaktır.

All sins have their origin in a sense of inferiority, otherwise called ambition.

One stops being a child when one realizes that telling one's trouble does not make it any better.

La sorpresa es el móvil de cada descubrimiento.

بقدر ما تمضى بنا السنون يتراءى تحت محيّا كل واحد منّا رأس الميت أكثر فأكثر

Ne sanıyorsun?Ay herkes için vardır,yağmurda,hastalıklar da.İnsan yeraltında da yaşasa,sarayda da yaşasa,kan her yerde kırmızıdır.

Sevgilim, çocuklara şaka yapılmaz. Ben de bir çocuktum.

Someone who has suffered is no longer the same.

Meanwhile we arrived at our lane and the sight of the olive tree rubbed me the wrong way. I began to see that no spot is less habitable than a place where one has been happy.

Tutto il problema della vita è dunque questo: come rompere la propria solitudine, come comunicare con altri.

Ho fatto molti stupidi errori, - mi disse, - se ne fanno nella vita. I veri acciacchi dell'età sono i rimorsi.

L’arte di vivere è l’arte di credere alle menzogne, il tremendo è che, non sapendo quid sit veritas, sappiamo però che cos’è la menzogna.

Si faccia una vita interiore, di studio, di affetti, che non siano soltanto di "arrivare", ma di "essere" - e vedrà che la vita avrà un significato.

And then we cowards who loved the whispering evening, the houses, the paths by the river, the dirty red lights of those places, the sweet soundless sorrow— we reached our hands out toward the living chain in silence, but our heart startled us with blood, and no more sweetness then, no more losing ourselves on the path by the river— no longer slaves, we knew we were alone and alive. (Translated By Geoffrey Brock)

He viajado lo suficiente por el mundo como para saber que todas las carnes son buenas y valen lo mismo, y eso es precisamente lo que estraga y por lo que uno busca echar raíces, hacerse tierra y pueblo, para que su carne tenga sentido y dure más que un triste cambio de estación.

That's the one immortal thing about a mortal, Leucò. The memory he carries with him, the memory he leaves behind him. That is what names and words are. When they remember even men smile. A smile of resignation.

كل تاريخ الثورات هذه. كل هذه الرغبة فى أن نرى وقائع تاريخية تحدث. هذا الاحتفاء المفرط هو نتيجة تشبعنا بالنزعة التاريخانية. و لهذا، فباعتيادنا على التعامل مع القرون كما لو كانت صفحات من كتاب، فإننا نزعم سماع أجراس المستقبل كلما نهق حمار؟؟؟؟

Orfeo: Io cercavo, piangendo, non più lei ma me stesso. Un destino, se vuoi. Mi ascoltavo. [...] Il mio destino non tradisce. Ho cercato me stesso. Non si cerca che questo. [...] Visto dal lato della vita tutto è bello. Ma credi a chi è stato tra i morti... Non vale la pena. [...] E voi godetela la festa. Tutto è lecito a chi non sa ancora. È necessario che ciascuno scenda una volta nel suo inferno. L'origine del mio destino è finita nell'Ade, finita cantando secondo i miei modi la vita e la morte. Bacca: E che vuol dire che un destino non tradisce? Orfeo: Vuol dire che è dentro di te, cosa tua; più profondo del sangue, di là da ogni ebbrezza. nessun dio può toccarlo.

Kader diye bir şey yoktur,yalnız sınırlar vardır.En kötü yazgı,sınırları sabırla karşılamaktır.Karşı çıkmak gerekir.

Attendre est encore une occupation. C'est ne rien attendre qui est terrible.

No se recuerdan los días, se recuerdan los momentos

War makes men barbarous because, to take part in it, one must harden oneself against all regret, all appreciation of delicacy and sensitive values. One must live as if those values did not exist, and when the war is over one has lost the resilience to return to those values.

The thing most feared in secret always happens… All it needs is a little courage. The more the pain grows clear and definite, the more the instinct for life asserts itself and the thought of suicide recedes. It seemed easy when I thought of it. Weak women have done it. It needs humility not pride. I am sickened by all this. Not words. Action. I shall write no more.

I ragazzi, le donne, il mondo, non sono mica cambiati. Non portano più il parasole, la domenica vanno al cinema invece che in festa, danno il grano all'ammasso, le ragazze fumano - eppure la vita è la stessa, e non sanno che un giorno si guarderanno in giro e anche per loro sarò tutto passato.

Indifference This hate has blossomed like a living love, grieving, watching its own exhaustion. It seeks a face, it seeks flesh, as though it were love. The worldly flesh and the voices that spoke are dead, all has shuddered away, all life hangs on a voice. Days pass in bitter ecstasy to the sad caress of the voice that returns and drains the blood from our faces. Not without sweetness that voice returns to the mind exhausted and trembling: once it trembled for me. But the flesh does not tremble. Only love could set it alight, this hate seeks it out. All the possessions, all the flesh and all the voices in the world cannot equal the burning caress of that body and those eyes. In the bitter ecstasy that kills itself, this hate still finds each day a glance, a broken word, and grasps them, hungrily, like love.

عشق العزلة تشيزاري بافيزي(1908-1950) أتناولُ عشاءاً خفيفاً بجانب النافذة المضيئة. الغرفة مظلمة الآن، والنجوم بدأت تسطع في السماء . في الخارج، تؤدي الدروب الهادئة ، بعد مسافة قصيرة، إلى الحقول الفسيحة. أتناولُ طعامي، أرقبُ السماء — من يعلمْ كم من النساء يأكلنَ الآن. جسدي خامد: يبلّد العمل كل الأحاسيس، ويبلّد النساء أيضاً. في الخارج، بعد العشاء، ستطلع النجوم لتوافي سهل الأرض الواسع. النجوم حيّةً، لكنها لا تساوي هذه الكرزات، التي آكلها وحيدا. أنظر إلى السماء، عارفا بأنّ هذه الأضواء تشع الآن عبر الأسطح الصدئة الحمراء، وضجيج الساكنين تحتها. رشفة من شرابي، ويستطيع جسدي أن يعرف طعم حياة النباتات و الأنهار. إنه يشعر بانفصاله عن الأشياء. جرعة صغيرة من الصمت تكفي، وكل شيء ما زال، في مكانه الصحيح، تماماً كما جسدي في مكانه. كل الأشياء تصبح جزراً في حضرةِ حواسي، التي تتقبلهم بطبيعة الحال: همهمة الصمت. كل الأشياء في هذا الظلام — أستطيع أن أعرفها، تماماً كما أعرف بأن الدمّ يجري في عروقي. السهل تدفق المياه العظيم متخللاً الغراس، قوت كل الأشياء. كلّ نبتة، وكلّ حجر، يحيا بصمتٍ. أسمع طعامي يغذي عروقي بكل ما يقدمه هذا السهل، بكل شيء حي. الليل ليسَ ذو شأن. رقعةُ السماء المربعة تهمسُ لي كل ضجيجٍ صاخبٍ، ونجم صغير يشقُّ طريقه في الفراغ، بعيداً عن كلّ قوت، عن كلِّ البيوت، غريباً. غير مكتفٍ بذاته، يحتاجُ إلى الكثير من الصُّحبة هنا في الظلام، وحده، جسدي خامدٌ، يشعر بأنّه مسؤول.

Della mia infanzia non mi restava altro che l'estate. Le vie strette che sbucavano nei campi da ogni parte, di giorno e di sera, erano i cancelli della vita e del mondo. Gran meraviglia se un'automobile strombettante, giunta da chissà dove, traversasse il paese, sulla strada maestra e dileguasse chi sa dove verso nuove città, verso il mare, sconvolgendo ragazzi e polvere

Przyjdzie śmierć i będzie miała twoje oczy - ta śmierć, która nam towarzyszy od świtu do zmierzchu, bezsenna, milcząca, jak odwieczne poczucie winy lub bezsensowny nałóg. Twoje oczy będą pustym słowem, przemilczanym krzykiem, ciszą. Takimi je widzisz co dzień rano kiedy nad sobą pochylasz się w lustrze. Kochana nadziejo, tego dnia i my się dowiemy że jesteś życiem i że jesteś niczym. Śmierć ma dla wszystkich spojrzenie. Przyjdzie śmierć i będzie miała twoje oczy. Będzie tak, jak gdybyś porzuciła nałóg, jak gdybyś ujrzała w lustrze pojawienie się martwej twarzy, jak gdybyś słuchała zamkniętych warg. Niemi zstąpimy w topiel.

Literature is a defense against the attacks of life. It says to life: "You can't deceive me. I know your habits, foresee and enjoy watching your reactions, and steal your secret by involving you in cunning obstructions that halt your normal flow." The other defense against things in general is silence as we muster strength for a fresh leap forward. But we must impose that silence on ourselves, not have it imposed on us, not even by death. To choose hardship for ourselves is our only defense against that hardship. This is what is meant by accepting suffering. Not being resigned to it, but using it as a springboard. Controlling the effect of the blow. Those who, by their very nature, can suffer completely, utterly, have an advantage. That is how we can disarm the power of suffering, make it our own creation, our own choice; submit to it. A justification for suicide. Charity has no place in all this. Unless, perhaps, this act of violence is in itself the truest form of charity?

Beggar: There was a time when we didn't exist, Oedipus. That means that even the deepest desires of our heart, our blood, our moments of awakening have sprung from nothing. Even your desire to escape destiny is perhaps destiny. It isn't we who made our own blood. It's enough to feel it and live like free man, as the oracle bids us. Oedipus: Yes, so long as a man is still searching. You had the luck never to reach your goal. But the day comes when you go back to Cithaeron, you forget everything and the mountain seems to bring back your childhood. You look at it day after day and maybe you climb it. Then someone tells you that you were born up there. And everything crumbles.

M'accorsi, camminando, che ripensavo a quella sera diciassette anni prima, quando avevo lasciato Torino, quando avevo deciso che una persona può amarne un'altra più di sé, eppure io stessa sapevo bene che volevo soltanto uscir fuori, metter piede nel mondo, e mi occorreva quella scusa, quel pretesto, per fare il passo. La sciocchezza, l'allegra incoscienza di Guido quando aveva creduto di portarmi con sé e mantenermi - sapevo già tutto fin dal principio. Lo lasciai fare, provare, dibattersi. L'aiutavo persino, uscivo prima dal lavoro per tenergli compagnia. Quello il mio broncio e malvolere, secondo Morelli. Avevo riso e fatto ridere tre mesi il mio Guido: era servito a qualcosa? Nemmeno di piantarmi lui era stato capace. Non si può amare un altro più di se stessi. Chi non si salva da sé, non lo salva nessuno.