In football everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team.
JEAN-PAUL SARTRELike all dreamers I confuse disenchantment with truth.
More Jean-Paul Sartre Quotes
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Everything has been figured out, except how to live.
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My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I’m going to sleep.
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I wanted the moments of my life to follow and order themselves like those of a life remembered. You might as well try and catch time by the tail.
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One always dies too soon – or too late. And yet one’s whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up. You are — your life, and nothing else.
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As far as men go, it is not what they are that interests me, but what they can become.
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When the rich wage war it’s the poor who die.
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It is therefore senseless to think of complaining since nothing foreign has decided what we feel, what we live, or what we are.
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We must act out passion before we can feel it.
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To think new thoughts you have to break the bones in your head.
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Little flashes of sun on the surface of a cold, dark sea.
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Only the guy who isn’t rowing has time to rock the boat.
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It was odd, he thought, that a man could hate himself as though he were someone else.
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Existence is prior to essence.
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I can receive nothing more from these tragic solitudes than a little empty purity.
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To know what life is worth you have to risk it once in a while.
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A madman’s ravings are absurd in relation to the situation in which he finds himself, but not in relation to his madness.
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Freedom is what we do with what is done to us.
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I think that is the big danger in keeping a diary: you exaggerate everything.
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Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that’s all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition.
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It’s strange. I felt less lonely when I didn’t know you.
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You are — your life, and nothing else.
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A man is involved in life, leaves his impress on it, and outside of that there is nothing.
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There is a universe behind and before him. And the day is approaching when closing the last book on the last shelf on the far left; he will say to himself, “now what?
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I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.
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I wanted my own words. But the ones I use have been dragged through I don’t know how many consciences.
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Genius is what a man invents when he is looking for a way out.
JEAN-PAUL SARTRE