Quotes from Jean-Paul Sartre

La plupart du temps, faute de s'attacher à des mots, mes pensées restent des brouillards. Elles dessinent des formes vagues et plaisantes, s'engloutissent : aussitôt, je les oublie.

Things are entirely what they appear to be and BEHIND THEM... there is nothing.

Le secret douloureux des Dieux et des rois: c'est que les hommes sont libres. Ils sont libres Egisthe. Tu le sais, et ils ne le savent pas.

Ama barda??m?n dibinde biram ?l?ksa, aynada koyu renkli lekeler varsa, fazlal?ksam; en içten ve en kat???ks?z ac?m, ay?bal??? gibi, hem bir y???n et hem gepgeniÅŸ bir deriyle ve insan?n içine dokunan ?slak, ama kötülük dolu gözlerle sürüklenip hantalla??yorsa bu benim kabahatim mi?

movements never quite exist, they are passages, intermediaries between two existences, moments of weakness, I expected to see them come out of nothingness, progressively ripen, blossom: I was finally going to surprise beings in the process of being born.

We were a heap of living creatures, irritated, embarrassed at ourselves, we hadn't the slightest reason to be there, none of us, each one, confused, vaguely alarmed, felt in the way in relation to others. In the way: it was the only relationship I could establish between these, tress, these gates, these stones. . . .

We still have not defined the intellectual yet: all we have are technicians of practical knowledge who either accommodate themselves to their contradiction or manage to avoid suffering from it. But when one of them becomes aware of the fact that despite the universality of his work it serves only particular interests, then his awareness of this contradiction - what Hegel called an 'unhappy consciousness' - is precisely what characterizes him as an intellectual.

Suddenly they existed, then suddenly they existed no longer: existence is without memory; of the vanished it retains nothing—not even a memory. Existence everywhere, infinitely, in excess, for ever and everywhere; existence—which is limited only by existence.

I can't explain what I see. To anyone. There: I am quietly slipping into the water's depths, towards fear. I am alone in the midst of these happy, reasonable voices. All these creatures spend their time explaining, realizing happily that they agree with each other. In Heaven's name, why is it so important to think the same things all together.

So gather me up, dear, fold me to your heart – and you'll see how nice I can be.

What he [the intellectual] should learn to do is to put what he has been able to salvage from the disciplines that taught him universal techniques, directly at the service of the masses. Intellectuals must learn to understand the universal that the masses want, in reality, in the immediate, at this very moment.

Des fois, je donnerais ma main à couper pour devenir tout de suite un homme et d'autres fois il me semble que je ne voudrais pas survivre à ma jeunesse.

Me levanté, salí. Al llegar a la verja, me volví. Entonces el jardín me sonrió. Me apoyé en la verja y miré largo rato. La sonrisa de los árboles, de macizo de laurel quería decir algo; aquél era el verdadero secreto de la existencia.

Presupun c? numai din lene lumea e aceea?i de la o zi la alta.

Everything is silent again: but it isn't the same silence. It's raining: tapping lightly against the frosted glass windows; if there are any more masked children in the street, the rain is going to spoil their cardboard masks.

And naturally, everything they tell about in books can happen in real life, but not in the same way. It is to this way of happening that I clung so tightly.

One thus arrives at a curious conception of thought. Thought has no real, concrete existence, accessible to immediate consciousness, since the datum of introspection is the image. It has no universality in act, because, if it were so, one should be able to grasp it directly. But it is a potential universality that one derives from the fact that a word can be accompanied by very different images.

Var olmak susamadan içmek gibi bir ÅŸeydir.

and suddenly, there it is: the Nausea. A fine climax: it shakes me from top to bottom. I saw it coming more than an hour ago, only I didn't want to admit it

From these few observations we can already conclude that the real is never beautiful. Beauty is a value applicable only to the imaginary and which means the negation of the world in its essential structure.

man being condemned to be free carries the weight of the whole world on his shoulders; he is responsible for the world and for himself as a way of being.

We stay silent for a moment. Evening is coming on; I can hardly make out the pale spot of her face. Her black dress melts with the shadow which floods the room. I pick up my cup mechanically, there's a little tea left in it and I bring it to my lips. The tea is cold. I want to smoke but I don't dare. I have the terrible feeling that we have nothing more to say to one another.

they think about Tomorrow, that is to say, simply, a new today;

This is time, time laid bare, coming slowly into existence, keeping us waiting, and when it does come making us sick because we realise it's been there for a long time.