I just enjoy translating, it’s like opening one’s mouth and hearing someone else’s voice emerge.
IRIS MURDOCHArt 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.
More Iris Murdoch Quotes
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Only the very greatest art invigorates without consoling.
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We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality says Iris Murdoch. But given the state of the world, is it wise?
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Love is the Extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real.
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Perhaps there was an intimacy which did not need words.
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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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One of the secrets of a happy life is continous small treats.
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Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea.
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I’ve felt as if I didn’t exist, as if I were invisible, miles away from the world, miles away. You can’t imagine how much alone I’ve been all my life.
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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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There is no beyond, there is only here, the infinitely small, infinitely great and utterly demanding present.
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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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There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for-granted relationship.
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I took a deep breath, however, and followed my rule of never speaking frankly to women in moments of emotion. No good ever comes of this.
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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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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.
IRIS MURDOCH