I just enjoy translating, it’s like opening one’s mouth and hearing someone else’s voice emerge.
IRIS MURDOCHWhat a test that is: more than devotion, admiration, passion. If you long and long for someone’s company you love them.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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However life, unlike art, has an irritating way of bumping and limping on, undoing conversions, casting doubt on solutions, and generally illustrating the impossibility of living happily or virtuously ever after.
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Guilt keeps people imprisoned in themselves.
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As we live our precarious lives on the brink of the void, constantly coming closer to a state of nonbeing, we are all too often aware of our fragitlity.
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Jealousy is perhaps the most involuntary of all strong emotions. It steals consciousness, it lies deeper than thought. It is always there, like a blackness in the eye, it discolours the world.
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Falling out of love is chiefly a matter of forgetting how charming someone is.
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Writing is like getting married. One should never commit oneself until one is amazed at one’s luck.
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I think being a woman is like being Irish, Everyone says you’re important and nice, but you take second place all the time.
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To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too: Dante, Avignon, a song of Shakespeare’s, the Cornish sea.
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Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea.
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Perhaps when distant people on other planets pick up some wavelength of ours all they hear is a continuous scream.
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Art and psychoanalisis give shape and meaning to life and that’s why we adore them. However, life as it is lived has no shape nor meaning, and that’s what I am experiencing right now.
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Every persisting marriage is based on fear’, said Peregrine. ‘Fear is fundamental, you dig down in human nature and what’s at the bottom? Mean spiteful cruel self-regarding fear, whether it makes you to put the foot in it or whether it makes you to cower.
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Her eyes, which refused to meet mine, had the defensive coldness of those who are determined to lose hope.
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What I needed with all my starved and silent soul was just that particular way of shouting back at the world.
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We are all prisoner, but the name of our cure is not freedom.
IRIS MURDOCH