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Luigi Pirandello

Luigi Pirandello Quotes

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Famous Luigi Pirandello Quotes

“Whoever understands the game of life can no longer fool himself, but if you cannot fool yourself, you can no longer derive any pleasure or enjoyment from life. And so it goes, my work is full of compassion, bitter compassion for all those who fool themselves. But this compassion cannot help but be followed by ferocious derision of a destiny that condemns man to deception. And this succinctly is the reason for the bitterness of my art, and also my life.”

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“ولكن ألا ترين أن علةالبلاء فى الكلام ، كل واحد منا لديه عالم كامل فى نفسه ، و كل واحد منا له عالمه الخاص ! فكيف يفهم بعضنا بعضا أيها السادة إذا كنت أضع فى كلماتى التى أقولها معانى و قيم الأشياء كما أفهمها فى عالمى أنا ، بينما يفترض من يستمع إلى إن كلماتى لها المعانى و القيم الخاصة بعالمه هو ، نحن نظن أننا سوف نتقابل ، و الواقع أننا لن نتقابل أبدا !”

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“The taste of life, the taste for life. That is never satisfied. That never can be satisfied, because life even as we are in the very act of living it, is so ravenously hungering after itself, that it never lets itself be fully tasted. The taste for life comes to us from the past, from the memories that hold us bound, but bound to what? To this folly of ours? To this mass of vexations? To so many stupid illusions? To so many insipid occupations?”

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“This sense we have of life is like a lantern, which each of us carries within himself. Now, this lantern, with its faint light, reveals to us that we are lost, astray on the face of the earth. Showing us the good and the evil on every hand. Why not? Out lanterns cast about us a greater or lesser area of light, beyond which all is blank darkness. Now, this fearful gloom would not exist were our lanterns not there to make us conscious of it, though, we must believe it is a real darkness, so long as our lights are aglow within us. Well now, imagine that our lamps are blown out. This fictitious darkness will engulf us entirely, will it not? After our cloudy day of illusion, perpetual night. But is it really perpetual night, or is it really that we have fallen into the arms of essence, which has broken down the insubstantial form of our reason?”

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Author:Luigi Pirandello
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