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Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

Cesare Pavese

Death is repose, but the thought of death disturbs all repose.
CESARE PAVESE

Death Disturb Repose
Living is like working out a long addition sum, and if you make a mistake in the first two totals you will never find the right answer. It means involving oneself in a complicated chain of circumstances.
CESARE PAVESE

Addition Complication Live Mistake Right Work
Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly. Activity makes the hours short and the years long.
CESARE PAVESE

Activity Time
What is to come will emerge only after long suffering, long silence.
CESARE PAVESE

Silence Suffering
We never remember days, only moments.
CESARE PAVESE

Day Moments Remember
We like to have work to do, so as to have the right to rest.
CESARE PAVESE

Rest Right Work
The slowness of time, for a man who knows nothing will happen, is brutal.
CESARE PAVESE

Brutal Man Slow Time Willing
We must never say, even in fun, that we are disheartened, because someone might take us at our word.
CESARE PAVESE

Feeling Heart Ourselves Word
But the real, tremendous truth is this: suffering serves no purpose whatever.
CESARE PAVESE

Purpose Reality Service Suffering Truth
When writing poetry, it is not that produces a bright idea, but the bright idea that kindles the fire of.
CESARE PAVESE

Bright Fire Ideas Poetry Production Writing
Because, to despise money, one must have plenty of it.
CESARE PAVESE

Money Oneself
The real affliction of old age is remorse.
CESARE PAVESE

Affliction Age Old Reality
Don’t mix wine and women.
CESARE PAVESE

One Liner Wine Woman
The cadence of suffering has begun. Every evening at dusk, my heart constricts until night has come.
CESARE PAVESE

Beginning Heart Night Suffering
There is mercy for everyone, except those who are bored with life.
CESARE PAVESE

Bored Exception Life Mercy
Things are revealed through the memories we have of them. Remembering a thing means seeing it only then for the first time.
CESARE PAVESE

Memories Remember Reveal Time

Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

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Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

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