Det är en vacker stad. Men kall som is. Du kan leva ett helt liv här utan att få närkontakt med någon. Allt är planerat för att man ska slippa beröring med varandra.
Karl Ove KnausgårdDöden gör livet meningslöst för att allt vi någonsin har strävat efter upphör med den, och den gör livet meningsfullt för att dess närvaro gör det lilla vi har av det omistligt, gör varje ögonblick dyrbart.
Karl Ove KnausgårdTag: döden
The sun rose in my life. At first, as dawn breaking on the horizon, almost as if to say, this is where you have to look. Then came the first rays of sunshine, everything became clearer, lighter, more alive, and I became happier and happier, and then it hung in the sky of my life and shone and shone and shone.
Karl Ove KnausgårdTag: happiness
For who brooded over the meaninglessness of life anymore? Teenagers. They were the only ones who were preoccupied with existential issues, and as a result there was something puerile and immature about them, and hence it was doubly impossible for adults with their sense of propriety intact to deal with them. However, this is not so strange for we never feel more strongly and passionately about life than in our teenage years, when we step into the world for the first time, as it were, and all our feelings are new feelings. So there they are, with their big ideas on small orbits, looking this way and that for an opportunity to launch them, as the pressure builds. And who is it they light upon sooner or later but Uncle Dostoevsky.
Karl Ove KnausgårdTag: dostoevsky meaninglessness
I can’t speak for other writers, but I write to create something that is better than myself, I think that’s the deepest motivation, and it is so because I’m full of self-loathing and shame. Writing doesn’t make me a better person, nor a wiser and happier one, but the writing, the text, the novel, is a creation of something outside of the self, an object, kind of neutralized by the objectivity of literature and form; the temper, the voice, the style; all in it is carefully constructed and controlled. This is writing for me: a cold hand on a warm forehead.
Karl Ove KnausgårdFor the heart, life is simple: it beats for as long as it can. Then it stops.
Karl Ove Knausgård« prima precedente
Pagina 2 di 2.
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.