anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
Francis Ponge, Notes pour ‘la Guêpe’, (manuscript), Paris, 1939-1943 [from the archives of Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre]
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
I marvel at these young people: drinking their coffee, they tell clear, plausible stories. If they are asked what they did yesterday, they aren’t embarrassed: they bring you up to date in a few words. If I were in their place, I’d fall over myself. It’s true that no one has bothered about how I spend my time for a long while. When you live alone you no longer know what it is to tell something: the plausible disappears at the same time as the friends.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
People who live in society have learned how to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. I have no friends. Is that why my flesh is so naked? You might say- yes you might say, nature without humanity.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
My life put out feelers towards small pleasures in every direction.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
I feel like my past is interfering with my present and there’s nothing I can actually do. I feel there’s just nothing. I’m unable to think clearly and I’m clearly unable to not let things affect me. Unable to force my brain to function, unable to just get to feel calmer in some way. I need some peace of mind and I need you to be here. I hate needing anything and yet I do […]
Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
I wanted . . . out of defiance, to play with the absurdity of the world.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (via anenlighteningellipses)
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
I cannot look at a blank sheet of paper without wanting to write something on it.
Jean-Paul Sartre, from Witness To My Life: Jean-Paul Sartre’s Letters To Simone de Beauvoir (via violentwavesofemotion)
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
…when I feel a sincere emotion, a feeling that I think can be expressed, I’m absolutely incapable of doing so. Either I babble or say just the opposite of what I wanted to say–or I express the equivalent of that feeling through refined, meaningless phrases–or else, as happens most often, I express nothing, fleeing all expression: the wisest course.
Jean-Paul Sartre, from Witness To My Life: Jean-Paul Sartre’s Letters To Simone de Beauvoir
I wanted . . . out of defiance, to play with the absurdity of the world.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
My life put out feelers towards small pleasures in every direction.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
So this is Nausea: this blinding evidence? I have scratched my head over it. I've written about it. Now I know: I exist — the world exists — and I know that the world exists. That’s all. It makes no difference to me. It’s strange that everything makes so little difference to me: it frightens me.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (via anenlighteningellipses)
I don't want any communion of souls, I haven't fallen so low.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
So this is Nausea: this blinding evidence? I have scratched my head over it! I've written about it. Now I know: I exist-- the world exists-- and I know that the world exists. That's all. It makes no difference to me. It's strange that everything makes so little difference to me: it frightens me.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
... yes, I was there, living in the midst of these books full of knowledge, describing the immutable forms of the animal species, explaining that the right quantity of energy is kept integral in the universe; I was there, standing in front of a window whose panes had a definite refraction index. But what feeble barriers! I suppose it is out of laziness that the world is the same day after day.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
And I— soft, weak, obscene, digesting, juggling with dismal thoughts— I, too, was In the way. Fortunately I didn’t feel it, although I realised it, but I was uncomfortable because I was afraid of feeling it (even now I am afraid— afraid that it might catch me from behind my head and lift me up like a wave). I dreamed vaguely of killing myself to wipe out at least one of these superfluous lives. But even my death would have been In the way; my corpse, my blood on these stones, between these plants, at the back of this smiling garden. And the decomposed flesh would have been In the way in the earth which would receive my bones, at last, cleaned, stripped, peeled, proper and clean as teeth, it would have been In the way: I was In the way for eternity.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
violentwavesofemotion-deactivat
I cling to each instant with all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable — and yet I would not raise a finger to stop it from being annihilated
Jean-Paul Sartre, from Nausea (via violentwavesofemotion)
anenlighteningellipsis reblogged
I must wash myself clean with abstract thoughts, transparent as water.
Jean-Paul Sartre, “Nausea” (via inhadu)