Jorge Luis Borges Quotes About Less

Browse 16 famous quotes of Jorge Luis Borges about Less.

"We have a very precise image - an image at times shameless - of what we have lost, but we are ignorant of what may follow or replace it." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"You have wakened not out of sleep, but into a prior dream, and that dream lies within another, and so on, to infinity, which is the number of grains of sand. The path that you are to take is endless, and you will die before you have truly awakened." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"I cannot sleep unless I am surrounded by books." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"The gods weave misfortunes for men, so that the generations to come will have something to sing about." Mallarmé repeats, less beautifully, what Homer said; "tout aboutit en un livre," everything ends up in a book. The Greeks speak of generations that will sing; Mallarmé speaks of an object, of a thing among things, a book. But the idea is the same; the idea that we are made for art, we are made for memory, we are made for poetry, or perhaps we are made for oblivion. But something remains, and that something is history or poetry, which are not essentially different." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"In an isolated region from Iran there is this wall tower, windowless, doorless, not very tall. In its only room with arched walls and the stamped earth as its floor, there's a wooden table and a bench. In this round cell a man that looks like me is writing in signs that i don't understand a long poem about a man who in another round cell is writing a poem about a man in another round cell. Endless series; nobody will ever read what prisoners write." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Gradually, the concrete enigma I labored at disturbed me less than the generic enigma of a sentence written by a god. What type of sentence (I asked myself) will an absolute mind construct? I considered that even in the human languages there is no proposition that does not imply the entire universe: to say "the tiger" is to say the tigers that begot it, the deer and turtles devoured by it, the grass on which the deer fed, the earth that was mother to the grass, the heaven that gave birth to the earth. I considered that in the language of a god every word would enunciate that infinite concatenation of facts, and not in an implicit but in an explicit manner, and not progressively but instantaneously. In time, the notion of a divine sentence seemed puerile or blasphemous. A god, I reflected, ought to utter only a single word and in that word absolute fullness. No word uttered by him can be inferior to the universe or less than the sum total of time." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Halfway through his reclusion, Arredondo experienced more than once that almost timeless time. In the first of the house's three patios there was cistern with a frog in it. It never occurred to Arredondo to think that the frog's time, which borders on eternity, was what he himself sought." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Don't talk unless you can improve the silence." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Days and nights passed over this despair of flesh, but one morning he awoke, looked (with calm now) at the blurred things that lay about him, and felt, inexplicably, the way one might feel upon recognizing a melody or a voice, that all this had happened to him before and that he had faced it with fear but also with joy and hopefulness and curiosity. Then he descended into his memory, which seemed to him endless, and managed to draw up from that vertigo the lost remembrance that gleamed like a coin in the rain - perhaps because he had never really looked at it except (perhaps) in a dream." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Then I reflect that all things happen, happen to one, precisely now. Century follows century, and things happen only in the present. There are countless men in the air, on land and at sea, and all that really happens happens to me." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"So witless did these ideas strike me as being, so sweeping and pompous the way they were expressed, that I associated them immediately with literature." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"This much is already known: for every sensible line of straightforward statement, there are leagues of senseless cacophonies, verbal jumbles and incoherences. (I know of an uncouth region whose librarians repudiate the vain and superstitious custom of finding a meaning in books and equate it with that of finding a meaning in dreams or in the chaotic lines of one's palm . . . They admit that the inventors of this writing imitated the twenty-five natural symbols, but maintain that this application is accidental and that the books signify nothing in themselves. This dictum, we shall see, is not entirely fallacious.)" ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Emma dropped the letter. The first thing she felt was a sinking in her stomach and a trembling in her knees; then, a sense of blind guilt, of unreality, of cold, of fear; then, a desire for this day to be past. Then immediately she realized that such a wish was pointless, for her father's death was the only thing that had happened in the world, and it would go on happening, endlessly, forever after." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Emma dropped the paper. Her first impression was of a weak feeling in her stomach and in her knees; then of blind guilt, of unreality, of coldness, of fear; then she wished that it were already the next day. Immediately afterwards she realized that that wish was futile because the death of her father was the only thing that had happened in the world, and it would go on happening endlessly." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"Blind to all fault, destiny can be ruthless at one's slightest distraction." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
"I prayed aloud, less to plead for divine favor than to intimidate the tribe with articulate speech." ~ Jorge Luis Borges
Quotes About less

Today's Quote

Dar noi glumim cu nemuritorii, lucram cu ei, ne casatorim cu ei, îi exploatam si îi jignim - avea de-a face fie cu orori vesnice fie cu spendori nemuritoare. În fiecare zi, într-o anumita masura, ne împingem unii pe altii înspre una dintre aceste destinatii... Nu exista oameni de rând. Nu ai vorbit niciodata cu un simplu muritor."
Author: C.S. Lewis

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