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Quote by Eugenio Montale

“Eis van jezelf geen woord dat onze vormeloze ziel volkomen inlijst en in vuren letters haar verlicht en schittert als een crocus verloren in een grasveld grijs van stof. De man te zijn die in zekerheid wandelt, bevriend met de anderen en met zichzelf, zijn schaduw is het een zorg wat de hondster stempelt op een bladderende muur. Vraag niet om de spreuk die werelden opent, maar om een lettergreep, knoestig en droog als een tak. Slechts dit kunnen wij je zeggen vandaag: dat wat wij niet zijn, dat wat wij niet willen. vertaling Jan Emmens”

Quote by Eugenio Montale

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Eugenio Montale
Eugenio Montale

Italian poet renowned for his profound poetic style and exquisite use of language. Montale's poetry often delves into themes of loneliness, the passage of time, and the meaning of human existence. more

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“Why couldn’t you just live with Reginald? He seems to be managing the world okay.” "Unthinkable,” he said, flatly. "Reginald may be more familiar with the modern era than I am, but he is also the reason I am in this predicament. Additionally, he is chaos incarnate. Before you moved in with me, I was entirely dependent on his assistance. It was at least as terrible for both of us as you might imagine. The practical jokes he played on me, even while I was still in a coma . . .”

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“Certainly I understand Czech. I've meant to ask you several times why you don't ever write to me in Czech. I'm not suggesting that you don't master German. Most of the time you master it surprisingly well and if once in a while you don't, it bows before you of its own accord, and this is particularly pleasing, for this is something a German doesn't dare to expect from his language, he doesn't dare to write so personally. But I wanted to read you in Czech because it is part of you, because there is the whole Milena (the translation confirms it), whereas here is just the one from Vienna or the one preparing herself for Vienna. So Czech, please. And send the feuilletons you mention, too. Let them be shabby, you have also read your way through the shabbiness of my story, how far I don't know. Perhaps I can do this, too; but if I can't then I'll remain stuck in the best of prejudices.”

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“Nevertheless, the chief thing is: Whatever the others surrounding you in a wide circle may say about you, in superior wisdom, in bestial (except that beasts are not like that) denseness, in diabolical kindness, in homicidal love - I, I, Milena, know to my last fibre that whatever you do you will be doing right, whether you stay in Vienna, or do now this, now that. What, after all, should I be doing with you if I didn't know this? As in the deep sea there is no tiniest spot that isn't always under the heaviest pressure, so it is with you, but any other life is a disgrace and makes me sick to think of; until recently I thought I couldn't endure life, couldn't endure people, and was very ashamed of it, but you confirm to me now that it wasn't life that seemed undendurable to me.”

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