Sartre Nausea Quotes & Sayings

I grow warm, I begin to feel happy. There is nothing extraordinary in this, it is a small happiness of Nausea: it spreads at the bottom of the viscous puddle, at the bottom of out time - the time of purple suspenders, and broken chair seats; it is made of white, soft instants, spreading at the edge, like an oil stain. No sooner than born, it is already old, it seems as though I have known it for twenty years. — Jean-Paul Sartre

I have no taste for work any longer, I can do nothing more except wait for night.
530: Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it any more. My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them. — Jean-Paul Sartre

If I were in their place, I'd fall over myself. — Jean-Paul Sartre

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Ok, this is the most unfun threesome I have ever been a part of. Nobody's having sex and someone is yelling. I'm out of here. — James Van Der Beek

The truth is that I can't put down my pen: I think I'm going to have the Nausea and I feel as though I'm delaying it while writing. So I write whatever comes into my mind. — Jean-Paul Sartre

I love telling stories. I love the intimacy between the writer and reader. When you write sketches it's over in two minutes. When you write a book the characters have to have a bit of emotional depth. — David Walliams

I must be without remorse or regrets as I am without excuse; for from the instant of my upsurge into being, I carry the weight of the world by myself alone without help, engaged in a world for which I bear the whole responsibility without being able, whatever I do, to tear myself away from this responsibility for an instant. — Jean-Paul Sartre

It is an abstract change without object. Am I the one who has changed? ( ... ) I must finally realize that I am subject to these sudden transformations. The thing is that I rarely think; a crowd of small metamorphoses accumulate in me without my noticing it, and then, one fine day, a veritable revolution takes place. This is what has given my life such a jerky, incoherent aspect. — Jean-Paul Sartre

I lean all my weight on the porcelain ledge, I draw my face closer until it touches the mirror. The eyes, nose, and mouth disappear. Nothing is left. Brown wrinkles show on each side of the feverish swelled lips, crevices, mole holes. A silky, white down covers the great slopes of the cheeks, two hairs protrude from the nostrils: it is a geological embossed map. And, in spite of everything, this lunar world is familiar to me. I cannot say I recognize the details. But the whole thing gives me an impression of something seen before which stupefies me: I slip quietly off to sleep. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Everything is gratuitous, this garden, this city and myself. When you suddenly realize it, it makes you feel sick and everything begins to drift ... that's nausea. — Jean-Paul Sartre

My perfume, Manifesto, was based on the scent of basil. — Isabella Rossellini

General ideas are more flattering. And then professionals and even amateurs always end up by being right — Jean-Paul Sartre

The Nausea has stayed down there, in the yellow light. I am happy: this cold is so pure, this night so pure: am I myself not a wave of icy air? With neither blood, nor lymph, nor flesh. Flowing down this long canal towards the pallor down there. To be nothing but coldness. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that's all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition. — Jean-Paul Sartre

But for me there is neither Monday nor Sunday: there are days which pass in disorder, and then, sudden lightning like this one. Nothing has changed and yet everything is different. I can't describe it, it's like the Nausea and yet it's just the opposite: at last an adventure happens to me and when I question myself I see that it happens that I am myself and that I am here; I am the one who splits in the night, I am as happy as the hero of a novel. — Jean-Paul Sartre

It is the reflection of my face. Often in these lost days I study it: I can understand nothing of this face. The faces of others have some sense, some direction. Not mine. I cannot even decide whether it is handsome or ugly. I think it is ugly because I have been told so. But it doesn't strike me. At heart, I am even shocked that anyone can attribute qualities of this kind to it, as if you called a clod of earth or a block of stone beautiful or ugly. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Others quite new when covered with ice, all white, all throbbing, are like swans about to fly, but the earth has already caught them from below. They twist and tear themselves from the mud, only to be flattened out a little further on. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Mick required far less hand-holding than Michael. Signing the Stones, though, had required a full frontal assault worthy of General Patton, one of my heroes. The final battle exploded at the Ritz Hotel in Paris back in '83. After months of relentless pursuit, I had them. All they had to do was sign when suddenly at 3 A.M. Mick goes mental and calls me a "stupid motherfuckin' record executive." I lose it. I reach for his throat. I have a vision of punching out all ninety-eight pounds of him. I stop myself, envisioning tomorrow's headline - "Yetnikoff Kills Jagger." Jagger relents, signs and from then on it's wine and roses. It was Mick - wily and witty Mick - who later that year plotted with my girlfriend, the one called Boom Boom, to throw me a surprise fiftieth birthday bash where Henny Youngman emceed and Jon Peters, Barbra — Walter Yetnikoff

Farewell, beautiful
lilies, elegant in your painted little sanctuaries, good-bye, lovely lilies, our pride and reason for
existing, good-bye you bastards! — Jean-Paul Sartre

Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts. — Jean-Paul Sartre

I have crossed the seas, I have left cities behind me,
and I have followed the source of rivers towards their
source or plunged into forests, always making for other
cities. I have had women, I have fought with men ; and
I could never turn back any more than a record can spin
in reverse. And all that was leading me where ?
To this very moment ... — Jean-Paul Sartre

The societies that work build an infrastructure of care
as well as an infrastructure of capitalism. — Anne-Marie Slaughter

You exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something. — Jean-Paul Sartre

He takes a few dazed steps, the waiters turn out the lights and he slips into unconsciousness: when this man is lonely he sleeps. — Jean-Paul Sartre

My passion was dead. For years it had rolled over and submerged me; now I felt empty. But that wasn't the worst: before me, posed with a sort of indolence, was a voluminous, insipid idea. I did not see clearly what it was, but it sickened me so much I couldn't look at it. — Jean-Paul Sartre

I would like to see the truth clearly before it is too late. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Undoubtedly, on his death bed, at
that moment when, ever since Socrates, it has been proper to pronounce certain elevated words, he told
his wife, as one of my uncles told his, who
had watched beside him for twelve nights, I do not thank you, Therese; you have only done your
duty. — Jean-Paul Sartre

It's sometimes shocking to find out what people really believe in. — Tracey Ullman

The
Nausea has not left me and I don't believe it will leave me so soon; but I no longer have to bear it, it is
no longer an illness or a passing fit: it is I. — Jean-Paul Sartre

People. You must love people. Men are admirable. I want
to vomit - and suddenly, there it is: the Nausea — Jean-Paul Sartre

Something has happened to me, I can't doubt it any more. It came as an illness does, not like an ordinary certainty, not like anything evident. It came cunningly, little by little; I felt a little strange, a little put out, that's all. Once established it never moved, it stayed quiet, and I was able to persuade myself that nothing was the matter with me, that it was a false alarm. And now, it's blossoming. — Jean-Paul Sartre

Allowing one's self to be forgiven is just as hard as forgiving. Harder in some ways. Because to be forgiven, one first has to admit to being at fault. — Laura Lippman

You have to understand that not everything in the world is black and white. — Cat Clarke