Isabel Allende Quotes

The library is inhabited by spirits that come out of the pages at night.

Write what should not be forgotten.

The longer I live, the more uninformed I feel. Only the young have an explanation for everything.

There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them,' my mother explained shortly before she left me. 'If you can remember me, I will be with you always.

Accept the children the way we accept trees—with gratitude, because they are a blessing—but do not have expectations or desires. You don’t expect trees to change, you love them as they are.

For women, the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.

We only have what we give.

You can't find someone who doesn't want to be found.

Fear is inevitable, I have to accept that, but I cannot allow it to paralyze me.

A man does what he can; a woman does what a man cannot.

Words are not that important when you recognize intentions.

This is to assuage our conscience, darling" she would explain to Blanca. "But it doesn't help the poor. They don't need charity; they need justice.

you can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction

You are the storyteller of your own life, and you can create your own legend, or not.

Perhaps we are in this world to search for love, find it and lose it, again and again. With each love, we are born anew, and with each love that ends we collect a new wound. I am covered with proud scars.

Writing is a process, a journey into memory and the soul.

He had only to touch me to turn my tears into sighs and my anger to desire. How accomodating love is; it forgives everything.

Erotica is using a feather; pornograpy is using the whole chicken.

We all have an unsuspected reserve of strength inside that emerges when life puts us to the test.

The source of my difficulties has always been the same: an inability to accept what to others seems natural, and an irresistible tendency to voice opinions no one wants to hear . . .

Silence before being born, silence after death: life is nothing but noise between two unfathomable silences.

Writing is like making love. Don't worry about the orgasm, just concentrate on the process.

If I write something, I fear it will happen, and if I love too much, I fear I will lose that person; nevertheless, I cannot stop writing or loving...

When love exists, nothing else matters, not life’s predicaments, not the fury of the years, not a physical winding down or scarcity of opportunity.

El pasado y el futuro eran parte de la misma cosa y la realidad del presente era un caleidoscopio de espejos desordenados, donde todo podía ocurrir.

Memory is fiction. We select the brightest and the darkest, ignoring what we are ashamed of, and so embroider the broad tapestry of our lives.

I was a romantic and sentimental creature, with a tendency towards solitude.

...when everything else fails, we communicate in the language of the stars

Just as when we come into the world, when we die we are afraid of the unknown. But the fear is something from within us that has nothing to do with reality. Dying is like being born: just a change.

And I am not one of those women who trips twice over the same stone.

La verdadera amistad resiste el tiempo, la distancia y el silencio.

Just as when we come into the world, when we die we are afraid of the unknown. But the fear is something from within us that has nothing to do with reality. Dying is like being born: just a change

Barrabas came to us by sea, the child Clara wrote in her delicate calligraphy.

She sowed in my mind the idea that reality is not only what we see on the surface; it has a magical dimension as well and, if we so desire, it is legitimate to enhance it and color it to make our journey through life less trying.

You only have one life, but if you live it well, that’s enough. The only reality is now, today. What are you waiting for to be happy?

He realized...that the loudest are the least sincere, that arrogance is a quality of the ignorant, and that flatterers tend to be vicious.

At the most difficult moments of my life, when it seemed that every door was closed to me, the taste of those apricots comes back to comfort me with the notion that abundance is always within reach, if only one knows how to find it.

I seek truth and beauty in the transparency of an autumn leaf, in the perfect form of a seashell on the beach, in the curve of a woman's back, in the texture of an ancient tree trunk, but also in the elusive forms of reality.

Esa noche creí que había perdido para siempre la capacidad de enamorarme, que nunca más podría reírme ni perseguir una ilusión. Pero nunca más es mucho tiempo.

لا شيء مجاني في هذا العالم، فمقابل هذه التفاهات ستدفع ثمنًا غاليًا جدًا.

My son, the Holy Church is on the right, but Jesus Christ was always on the left.

...a fixation is very stubborn: it burrows into the brain and breaks the heart. There are many fixations, but love is the worst.

At times I feel as if I had lived all this before and that I have already written these very words, but I know it was not I: it was another woman, who kept her notebooks so that one day I could use them. I write, she wrote, that memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously. ... That's why my Grandmother Clara wrote in her notebooks, in order to see things in their true dimension and to defy her own poor memory.

Do you truly believe that life is fair, Senor de la Vega? -No, maestro, but I plan to do everything in my power to make it so.

Happiness is not exuberant or noisy, like pleasure or joy; it’s silent, tranquil, and gentle; it’s a feeling of satisfaction inside that begins with self-love.

She did not believe that the world was a vale of tears but rather a joke that God had played and that it was idiotic to take it seriously.

Pain is unavoidable, but suffering is optional.

The slave who dances is free ... while he is dancing.

No se puede encontrar a quien no quiere ser encontrado

She was one of those people who was born for the greatness of a single love, for exaggerated hatred, for apocalyptic vengance, and for the most sublime forms of heroism but she was unable to shape her fate to the dimensions of her amorous vocation, so it was lived out as something flat and gray trapped between her mother's sickroom walls, wretched tenements, and the tortured confessions with which this large, opulent, hot-blooded woman made for maternity, abundance, action, and ardor- was consuming herself.

Be careful what you ask of Heaven; it might be granted.

Nice people with common sense do not make interesting characters. They only make good former spouses.

La gente no lee lo que no le interesa y si le interesa es que ya tiene madurez para hacerlo

التصوير والكتابة هما محاولة للإمساك باللحظات قبل أن تتلاشى .

صمت قبل الولادة، وصمت بعد الموت، والحياة هي مجرد صخب بين صمتين لا قرار لهما.

You are my angel and my damnation; in your presence I reach divine ecstasy and in your absence I descent to hell.

There are a lot of good people, Irina, but they keep quiet about it. It’s the bad ones who make a lot of noise, and that’s why they get noticed.

A veces, para exorcizar los demonios de un recuerdo es necesario contarlo como un cuento

Happiness is pure kitsch; we come into the world to suffer and learn.

our demons lose their power when we pull them out of the depths where they hide and look them in the face in broad daylight.

Todos nacemos felices. Por el camino se nos ensucia la vida, pero podemos limpiarla. La felicidad no es exuberante ni bulliciosa, como el placer o la alegría. Es silenciosa, tranquila, suave, es un estado interno de satisfacción que empieza por amarse a sí mismo.

His calls for justice were lost at the mercy of the wind and human indifference.

Mi Popo decía que el amor nos vuelve buenos. No importa a quién amemos, tampoco importa ser correspondidos o si la relación es duradera. Basta la experiencia de amar, eso nos transforma.

The names of persons and living creatures demand respect, because when we speak to them we touch their heart and become a part of thier life force.

...memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously.

Each of us chooses the tone for telling his or her own story. I would like to choose the durable clarity of a platinum print, but nothing in my destiny possesses the luminosity. I live among diffuse shadings, veiled mysteries, uncertainties; the tone of telling my life is closer to that of a portrait in sepia.

My worst flaw is that I tell secrets, my own and everybody else's.

Land is something one should never sell. It is the only thing left when all else is gone.

Remember that all the others are more afraid than you

It’s easy to judge others when we are not going through the same thing.

من يعرف أكثر، عليه واجبات أكثر تجاه الإنسانية.

Reading is like looking through several windows which open to an infinite landscape....For me life without reading would be like being in prison, it would be as if my spirit were in a straightjacket; life would be a very dark and narrow place.

¿Qué nos pasó? Tal vez estamos en el mundo para buscar el amor, encontrarlo y perderlo, una y otra vez. Con cada amor volvemos a nacer, y con cada amor que termina se nos abre una herida... Estoy llena de cicatrices.

يبدو أننا جميعاً جئنا نبحث عن شيء و وجدنا شيئاً آخر ..

There is room in the human heart for all the divinities.

Nothing can grow in the shade of secrets, she would say, love needs light and space to flourish.

The point was not to die, since death came anyway, but to survive, which would be a miracle.

She felt that everything was made of glass, as fragile as a sigh

Before you conquer the mountain, you must learn to overcome your fear.

-Váyase al carajo -Bueno, para allá vamos. Usted viene conmigo

Es fácil juzgar a otros cuando uno no ha sufrido esa experiencia

​Courage is a virtue appreciated in a male but considered a defect in our gender. Bold women are a threat to a world that is badly out of balance, in favor of men.

من لم يعان الجوع ليس له الحق في إطلاق الأحكام

My name is Eva, which means 'life,' according to a book of names my mother consulted. I was born in the back room of a shadowy house, and grew up amidst ancient furniture, books in Latin, and human mummies, but none of those things made me melancholy, because I came into the world with a breath of the jungle in my memory.

La memoria imprime en blanco y negro, los grises se pierden por el camino.

Music is a wind that blows away the years, memories, and fear, that crouching animal I carry inside me.

If nothing hurts, that means I woke up dead,

We have to defend democracy, but remember that not everything is politics. Without science, industry, and technology, no progress is possible, and without music and art, there's no soul.

They could not understand the advantage of living contrary to their inclinations in this world in order to enjoy a hypothetical well-being in another.

الكتابة هي تفحص طويل لأعماق النفس، رحلة إلى أشد كهوف الوعي عتمة.

How many times have I told you not to believe everything you hear? Seek truth for yourself.

She regretted nothing she had shared with her lover, nor was she ashamed of the fires that had changed her life; just the opposite, she felt that they had tempered her, made her strong, given her pride in making decisions and paying the consequences for them.

That was a good time in my life, in spite of having the sensation of floating on a cloud, surrounded by both lies and things left unspoken. Occasionally I thought I glimpsed the truth, but soon found myself once again lost in a forest of ambiguities.

She never imagined a scenario in which her love was not returned with the same depth of feeling, for to her it was impossible to believe that a love of such magnitude could have stunned only her. The most elementary logic and justice indicated that somewhere in the city he was suffering the same delicious torment.

As my Popo used to say, life is a tapestry we weave day by day with threads of different colors, some heavy and dark, others thin and bright, all the threads having their uses. The stupid things I did are already in the tapestry, indelible, but I’m not going to be weighed down by them till I die. What’s done is done; I have to look ahead.

It bothers them that instead of taking on the role of abandoned lover, I have become a happy wife. They relish seeing strong women like you and me humiliated. They cannot forgive us that we triumphed where so many others fail...Courage is a virtue appreciated in a male but considered a defect in our gender. Bold women are a threat to a world that is out of balance, in favor of men. That is why they work so hard to mistreat and destroy us.

I write, she wrote, that memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously.

I write, she wrote, that memory is fragile and the space of a single life is brief, passing so quickly that we never get a chance to see the relationship between events; we cannot gauge the consequences of our acts, and we believe in the fiction of past, present, and future, but it may also be true that everything happens simultaneously . . . And now I seek my hatred and cannot seem to find it. I feel its flame going out as I come to understand [its] existence . . . It would be difficult for me to avenge all those who should be avenged, because my revenge would be just another part of the same inexorable rite. I have to break that terrible chain. I want to think that my task is life and that my mission is not to prolong hatred but simply fill these pages . . .

Cities have often been compared to language: you can read a city, it’s said, as you read a book. But the metaphor can be inverted. The journeys we make during the reading of a book trace out, in some way, the private spaces we inhabit. There are texts that will always be our dead-end streets; fragments that will be bridges; words that will be like the scaffolding that protects fragile constructions. T.S. Eliot: a plant growing in the debris of a ruined building; Salvador Novo: a tree-lined street transformed into an expressway; Tomas Segovia: a boulevard, a breath of air; Roberto Bolano: a rooftop terrace; Isabel Allende: a (magically real) shopping mall; Gilles Deleuze: a summit; and Jacques Derrida: a pothole. Robert Walser: a chink in the wall, for looking through to the other side; Charles Baudelaire: a waiting room; Hannah Arendt: a tower, an Archimedean point; Martin Heidegger: a cul-de-sac; Walter Benjamin: a one-way street walked down against the flow.

Escribo, ella escribió, que la memoria es frágil y el transcurso de una vida es muy breve y sucede todo tan deprisa, que no alcanzamos a ver la relación entre los acontecimientos, no podemos medir la consecuencia de los actos, creemos en la ficción del tiempo, en el presente, el pasado y el futuro, pero puede ser también que todo ocurre simultáneamente, como decían las tres hermanas Mora, que eran capaces de ver en el espacio los espíritus de todas las épocas. Por eso mi abuela Clara escribía en sus cuadernos, para ver las cosas en su dimensión real y para burlar a la mala memoria.