I'd come to realize that all our troubles spring from our failure to use plain, clear-cut language.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: language existential the-plague jean-paul-sartre
Nasmeh dreves, lovorovega zelenja, to je nekaj pomenilo, to je bila resnična skrivnost bivanja.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: jean-paul-sartre narava
Bivanje je polnost, ki je človek ne more zapustiti.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: jean-paul-sartre bivanje
I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: nausea jean-paul-sartre
I loathe my childhood and all that remains of it.
Jean-Paul Sartre, Words
Tag: words childhood loathing jean-paul-sartre
He began as a minor imitator of Fitzgerald, wrote a novel in the late twenties which won a prize, became dissatisfied with his work, stopped writing for a period of years. When he came back it was to BLACK MASK and the other detective magazines with a curious and terrible fiction which had never been seen before in the genre markets; Hart Crane and certainly Hemingway were writing of people on the edge of their emotions and their possibility but the genre mystery markets were filled with characters whose pain was circumstantial, whose resolution was through action; Woolrich's gallery was of those so damaged that their lives could only be seen as vast anticlimax to central and terrible events which had occurred long before the incidents of the story. Hammett and his great disciple, Chandler, had verged toward this more than a little, there is no minimizing the depth of their contribution to the mystery and to literature but Hammett and Chandler were still working within the devices of their category: detectives confronted problems and solved (or more commonly failed to solve) them, evil was generalized but had at least specific manifestations: Woolrich went far out on the edge. His characters killed, were killed, witnessed murder, attempted to solve it but the events were peripheral to the central circumstances. What I am trying to say, perhaps, is that Hammett and Chandler wrote of death but the novels and short stories of Woolrich *were* death. In all of its delicacy and grace, its fragile beauty as well as its finality.
Most of his plots made no objective sense. Woolrich was writing at the cutting edge of his time. Twenty years later his vision would attract a Truffaut whose own influences had been the philosophy of Sartre, the French nouvelle vague, the central conception that nothing really mattered. At all. But the suffering. Ah, that mattered; that mattered quite a bit.
Tag: f-scott-fitzgerald mystery crime detective noir crime-fiction detectives detective-stories hart-crane raymond-chandler detective-noir ernest-hemingway dashiel-hammett sartre mystery-suspense detective-fiction crime-thriller jean-paul-sartre mystery-thriller detective-novels mystery-and-crime-drama cornell-woolrich noir-fiction detective-novel francois-truffaut françois-truffaut truffaut
You exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: truth nausea jean-paul-sartre
Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it any more. My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: madness nausea jean-paul-sartre
Something has happened to me, I can't doubt it any more. It came as an illness does, not like an ordinary certainty, not like anything evident. It came cunningly, little by little; I felt a little strange, a little put out, that's all. Once established it never moved, it stayed quiet, and I was able to persuade myself that nothing was the matter with me, that it was a false alarm. And now, it's blossoming.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: nausea jean-paul-sartre
It is an abstract change without object. Am I the one who has changed? (...) I must finally realize that I am subject to these sudden transformations. The thing is that I rarely think; a crowd of small metamorphoses accumulate in me without my noticing it, and then, one fine day, a veritable revolution takes place. This is what has given my life such a jerky, incoherent aspect.
Jean-Paul SartreTag: nausea jean-paul-sartre
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