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Henry Miller Quotes

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Famous Henry Miller Quotes

“...He it is, if any man today possesses the gift, who knows where to dissolve the human figure, who has the courage to sacrifice an harmonious line in order to detect rhythm and murmur of the blood, who takes light that has been refracted inside him and lets it flood the keyboard of color. Behind the minutiae, the chaos, the mockery of life, he detects the invisible pattern; he announces his discoveries in the metaphysical pigment of space. No searching formulae, no crucifixion of ideas, no compulsion other than to create. Even as the world goes to smash there is one man who remains at the core, who becomes more solidly fixed and anchored, more centrifugal as the process of dissolution quickens.”

Tropic Of CancerHenry Miller
Author:Henry Miller
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“How we hate to admit that we would like nothing better than to be the slave! Slave and master at the same time! For even in love the slave is always the master in disguise. The man who must conquer the woman, subjugate her, bend her to his will, form her according to his desires—is he not the slave of his slave? How easy it is, in this relationship, for the woman to upset the balance of power! The mere threat of self-dependence, on the woman’s part, and the gallant despot is seized with vertigo. But if they are able to throw themselves at one another recklessly, concealing nothing, surrendering all, if they admit to one another their interdependence, do they not enjoy a great and unsuspected freedom? The man who admits to himself that he is a coward has made a step towards conquering his fear; but the man who frankly admits it to every one, who asks that you recognize it in him and make allowance for it in dealing with him, is on the way to becoming a hero. Such a man is often surprised, when the crucial test comes, to find that he knows no fear. Having lost the fear of regarding himself as a coward he is one no longer: only the demonstration is needed to prove the metamorphosis. It is the same in love. The man who admits not only to himself but to his fellowmen, and even to the woman he adores, that he can be twisted around a woman’s finger, that he is helpless where the other sex is concerned, usually discovers that he is the more powerful of the two. Nothing breaks a woman down more quickly than complete surrender. A woman is prepared to resist, to be laid siege to: she has been trained to behave that way. When she meets no resistance she falls headlong into the trap. To be able to give oneself wholly and completely is the greatest luxury that life affords. Real love only begins at this point of dissolution. The personal life is altogether based on dependence, mutual dependence. Society is the aggregate of persons all interdependent. There is another richer life beyond the pale of society, beyond the personal, but there is no knowing it, no attainment possible, without firs traveling the heights and depths of the personal jungle. To become the great lover, the magnetiser and catalyzer, the blinding focus and inspiration of the world, one has to first experience the profound wisdom of being an utter fool. The man whose greatness of heart leads him to folly and ruin is to a woman irresistible. To the woman who loves, that is to say. As to those who ask merely to be loved, who seek only their own reflection in the mirror, no love however great, will ever satisfy them. In a world so hungry for love it is no wonder that men and women are blinded by the glamour and glitter of their own reflected egos. No wonder that the revolver shot is the last summons. No wonder that the grinding wheels of the subway express, though they cut the body to pieces, fail to precipitate the elixir of love. In the egocentric prism the helpless victim is walled in by the very light which he refracts. The ego dies in its own glass cage…”

Master And SlaveMan Woman
Book:Sexus
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“Almost invariably there comes the question—Why did you do such a thing? Or—How could you treat me like that? If it's the man speaking he says: Let's not talk about it ... let's forget it! But the woman reacts as if she had been shocked in her vital centers, as if perhaps she might never recover from the mortal stab... she talks egotistically, but it is not the ego which prompts her reproaches—it's WOMAN.”

Relationships
Book:SEXUS -The Rosy Crucifixion - Book One, Two and Three
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“It’s like a man in the trenches again: he doesn’t know any more why he should go on living, because if he escapes now he’ll only be caught later, but he goes on just the same, and even though he has the soul of a cockroach and has admitted as much to himself, give him a gun or a knife or even just his bare nails, and he’ll go on slaughtering and slaughtering, he’d slaughter a million men rather than stop and ask himself why.”

SlaughterSoldiersTrenchesExistential Questions
Book:Tropic of Cancer
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“1) Work on one thing at a time until finished. 2) Start no more new books, add no more new material to "Black Spring." 3) Don't be nervous. Work calmly, joyously, recklessly on whatever is in hand. 4) Work according to Program and not according to mood. Stop at the appointed time! 5) When you can't create you can work. 6) Cement a little every day, rather than add new fertilizers. 7) Keep human! See people, go places, drink if you feel like it. 8) Don't be a draught-horse! Work with pleasure only. 9) Discard the Program when you feel like it—but go back to it next day. Concentrate. Narrow down. Exclude. 10) Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing. 11) Write first and always. Painting, music, friends, cinema, all these come afterwards.”

WritingRules1930sAnais Nin
Author:Henry Miller
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“What sticks in my crop about this period, when he [Conrad Moricand] was so desperately poor and miserable, is the air of elegance and fastidiousness which clung to him. He always seemed more like a stockbroker weathering a bad period than a man utterly without resources. The clothes he wore, all of excellent cut as well as of the best material, would obviously last another ten years, considering the care and attention he gave them. Even had they been patched, he would still have looked the well-dressed gentleman. Unlike myself, it never occurred to him to pawn or sell his clothes in order to eat. He had need of his good clothes.”

Well DressedConrad MoricandA Devil In ParadiseWell Cut Clothes
Book:Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch
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“We have scholars galore, and kings and emperors, and statesmen and military leaders, and artists in profusion, and inventors, discoverers, explorers - but where are the great lovers? After a moment's reflection one is back to Abelard and Heloise, or Anthony and Cleopatra, or the story of the Taj Mahal. So much of it is fictive, expanded and glorified by the poverty-stricken lovers whose prayers are answered only by myth and legend.”

LoveRomanceLoversRomanticizing
Author:Henry Miller
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“There is one thing I like about the Poles—their language. Polish, when it is spoken by intelligent people, puts me in ecstasy. The sound of the language evokes strange images in which there is always a greensward of fine spiked grass in which hornets and snakes play a great part. I remember days long back when Stanley would invite me to visit his relatives; he used to make me carry a roll of music because he wanted to show me off to these rich relatives. I remember this atmosphere well because in the presence of these smooth−tongued, overly polite, pretentious and thoroughly false Poles I always felt miserably uncomfortable. But when they spoke to one another, sometimes in French, sometimes in Polish, I sat back and watched them fascinatedly. They made strange Polish grimaces, altogether unlike our relatives who were stupid barbarians at bottom. The Poles were like standing snakes fitted up with collars of hornets. I never knew what they were talking about but it always seemed to me as if they were politely assassinating some one. They were all fitted up with sabres and broad−swords which they held in their teeth or brandished fiercely in a thundering charge. They never swerved from the path but rode rough−shod over women and children, spiking them with long pikes beribboned with blood−red pennants. All this, of course, in the drawing−room over a glass of strong tea, the men in butter−colored gloves, the women dangling their silly lorgnettes. The women were always ravishingly beautiful, the blonde houri type garnered centuries ago during the Crusades. They hissed their long polychromatic words through tiny, sensual mouths whose lips were soft as geraniums. These furious sorties with adders and rose petals made an intoxicating sort of music, a steel−stringed zithery slipper−gibber which could also register anomalous sounds like sobs and falling jets of water.”

HumorLanguagePolishPolandPolesPolish Language
Book:Sexus
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“Here there is buried legend after legend of youth and melancholy, of savage nights and mysterious bosoms dancing on the wet mirror of the pavement, of women chuckling softly as they scratch themselves, of wild sailors’ shouts, of long queues standing in front of the lobby, of boats brushing each other in the fog and tugs snorting furiously against the rush of tide while up on the Brooklyn Bridge a man is standing in agony, waiting to jump, or waiting to write a poem, or waiting for the blood to leave his vessels because if he advances another foot the pain of his love will kill him.”

InspirationLove And DeathPain And BeautyWild Youth
Book:Black Spring
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“Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such”

Inspirational
Author:Henry Miller
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“Bulunduğumuz şu dünya, asla bitmeyecek, geçmiş asla durmayacak, gelecek asla başlamayacak, bugün asla bitmeyecek. Bu asla'ların dünyasıdır ellerimizde tuttuğumuz, gördüğümüz; ama bu dünya, biz değiliz. Biz asla tamamlanmamış bir şeyiz; asla biçimlenmemiş, bilinemez bir şeyiz; her şey var onda; ama o, her şey değil; bütünü oluşturan parçalar, bu bütünden öylesine daha büyük ki yalnızca matematikçi Tanrı bulabilir kendini burada.”

DünyaInsan
Book:Black Spring
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“Modern ilerlemenin vebası: kolonileştirme, ticaret, beleş Kutsal Kitap'lar, savaş, hastalıklar, takma kol ve bacaklar, fabrikalar, köleler, delilik, nevrozlar, psikozlar, kanser, frengi, verem, kansızlık, grevler, lokavtlar, kıtlık, hiçlik, boşluk, tedirginlik, kavga, umutsuzluk, sıkıntı, intihar, hileli iflas, damar sertliği, megalomani, şizofreni, fıtık, kokain, asit prusik, boğucu gaz bombaları, gözyaşartıcı gazlar, kuduz köpekler, kendi kendine telkin, kendi kendini zehirleme, psikoterapi, hidroterapi, elektrik masajları, elektrik süpürgeleri, konserve et, besleyici haplar, hemoroidler, kangren... Artık ıssız ada yok. Cennet yok. Göreceli mutluluk da yok. Kendilerinden delicesine kaçmaya çabalayan insanlar; kurtuluşu arayarak buzulların altında ya da tropikal bataklıklarda, ya da tırmanarak Himalaya'lara ya da boğularak stratosferde... XVIII. Yüzyıl insanları, böyle bir son özlüyorlardı. Sonunda bıktılar bundan. Başladıkları yere dönmek istediker, dölyatağına yeniden gelmek.”

UmutsuzlukKaçışModernizm
Book:Black Spring
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