Very early in my life it was too late. Marguerite Duras More Quotes by Marguerite Duras More Quotes From Marguerite Duras I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. How could I know this city was tailor-made for love? How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How unlikely. I like you. How slow all of a sudden. How sweet. You cannot know. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. You’re destroying me. You’re good for me. I have time. Please, devour me. Deform me to the point of ugliness. Why not you? Why not you in this city and in this night, so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? I beg of you. Marguerite Duras i-like-you sweet night The best way to fill time is to waste it. Marguerite Duras work time way I've known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you're more beautiful now than then. Rather than your face as a young woman, I prefer your face as it is now. Ravaged. Marguerite Duras beautiful years thinking A book consists of two layers: on top, the readable layer ... and underneath, a layer that was inaccessible. You only sense its existence in a moment of distraction from the literal reading, the way you see childhood through a child. It would take forever to tell what you see, and it would be pointless. Marguerite Duras reading book children The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken. Marguerite Duras body memories long I know it's not clothes that make women beautiful or otherwise, nor beauty care, nor expensive creams, nor the distinction of costliness of their finery. I know the problem lies elsewhere. I don't know where. I only know it isn't where women think. Marguerite Duras beautiful lying thinking That she had so completely recovered her sanity was a source of sadness to her. One should never be cured of one's passion. Marguerite Duras sanity passion sadness You have to be very fond of men. Very, very fond. You have to be very fond of them to love them. Otherwise they're simply unbearable. Marguerite Duras philosophical love men In homosexual love the passion is homosexuality itself. What a homosexual loves, as if it were his lover, his country, his art, his land, is homosexuality. Marguerite Duras passion country art When it's in a book I don't think it'll hurt any more ...exist any more. One of the things writing does is wipe things out. Replace them. Marguerite Duras hurt writing book You are what you are and that fascinates me. Marguerite Duras It’s not that you have to achieve anything, it’s that you have to get away from where you are. Marguerite Duras get-away where-you-are achieve I seldom read on beaches or in gardens. You can't read by two lights at once, the light of day and the light of the book. You should read by electric light, the room in shadow, and only the page lit up. Marguerite Duras garden beach book Suddenly, all at once, she knows, knows that he doesn't understand her, that he never will, that he lacks the power to understand such perverseness. And that he can never move fast enough to catch her. Marguerite Duras enough love moving Men like women who write. Even though they don't say so. A writer is a foreign country. Marguerite Duras writing men country In love there are no vacations. No such thing. Love has to be lived fully with its boredom and all that. Marguerite Duras vacation boredom blessing Oh, how good it is to be with someone, sometimes. Marguerite Duras sometimes Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met. Marguerite Duras mom mother people You alone became the outer surface of my life, the side I never see, and you will be that, the unknown part of me, until I die. Marguerite Duras surface dies sides Madness is like intelligence, you know. You can't explain it. Just like intelligence. It comes on you, it fills you, and then you understand it. But when it goes away you can't understand it at all any longer. Marguerite Duras madness knows
