The monstrous thing is not that men have created roses out of this dung heap, but that, for some reason or other, they should want roses. Henry Miller More Quotes by Henry Miller More Quotes From Henry Miller Why change the world? Change worlds! Henry Miller philosophyhistoryart How different the new order would be if we could consult the veteran instead of the politician. Henry Miller politicsdifferentorder There was another thing I heartily disbelieved in - work. Work, it seemed to me even at the threshold of life, is an activity reserved for the dullard. It is the very opposite of creation, which is play… The part of me which was given up to work, which enabled my wife and child to live in the manner which they unthinkingly demanded, this part of me which kept the wheel turning - a completely fatuous, ego-centric notion! - was the least part of me. I gave nothing to the world in fulfilling the function of breadwinner; the world exacted its tribute of me, that was all. Henry Miller oppositesplaychildren I saw through to the last sign and symbol, but I could not read her face. I could see only the eyes shining through, huge, fleshy-like luminous beasts, as though I were swimming behind them in the electric effluvia of her incandescent vision. Henry Miller swimmingshiningeye I'm an egotist, but I'm not selfish. There's a difference. I'm a neurotic, I guess. I can't stop thinking about myself. It isn't that I think myself so important. I simply can't think about anything else, that's all. Henry Miller selfishfalling-in-lovethinking It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis. Henry Miller metamorphosisstressedneeds At the bottom of every frozen heart there is a drop or two of love―just enough to feed the birds. Henry Miller heartbirdtwo It's the pleasure of picking up the brush and seeing what happens. Henry Miller brushespleasurehappens Part of the act of creating is in discovering your own kind. They are everywhere. But don't look for them in the wrong places. Henry Miller creatingkindlooks Life is 440 horsepower in a 2-cylinder engine. Henry Miller cylindersinspirelife The imperfections of a man, his frailties, his faults, are just as important as his virtues.You can't separate them. They're wedded. Henry Miller imperfectionimportantmen Hitler is no worse, nay better, in my opinion, than the other lugs. He makes the German mistake of being tactless, that's all. Henry Miller dictatoropinionmistake The American white man (not to speak of the Indian, the Negro, the Mexican) hasn't a ghost of a chance. If he has any talent he's doomed to have it crushed one way or another. The American way is to seduce a man by bribery and make a prostitute of him. Or else to ignore him, starve him into submission and make a hack of him. Henry Miller white-manmexicanmen I believe in saying the truth, coming out with it cold, shocking if necessary, not disguising it. Henry Miller coming-outcoldbelieve Perhaps I am still very much of an American. That is to say, naïve, optimistic, gullible. In the eyes of a European, what am I but an American to the core, an American who exposes his Americanism like a sore. Like it or not, I am a product of this land of plenty, a believer in superabundance, a believer in miracles. Henry Miller optimisticlandeye The dreamer whose dreams are non-utilitarian has no place in this world. In this world the poet is anathema, the thinker a fool, the artist an escapist, the man of vision a criminal. Henry Miller artistdreammen Hell is probably quite similar to most Paris bistros ... a bit overheated, somewhat too crowded, and a little too noisy for my tastes. The waiters will surely treat you rudely and the cashiers will always add a few extra francs to your bill but ... and this is the important part ... the food will be marvelous. Henry Miller pariscookingfood Writing, like life itself, Henry Miller naturewritingdiscovery Who hates the Jews more than the Jew? Henry Miller judaismjewhate What I secretly longed for was to disentangle myself of all those lives which had woven themselves into the pattern of my own life and were making my destiny a part of theirs. To shake myself free of these accumulating experiences which were mine only by force of inertia required a violent effort. Now and then I lunged and tore at the net, but only to become more enmeshed. My liberation seemed to involve pain and suffering to those near and dear to me. Every move I made for my own private good brought about reproach and condemnation. I was a traitor a thousand times over. Henry Miller destinypainmoving
