Уильям Сароян цитаты

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„Так и проходят дни за днями, недели за неделями. Проходят месяцы, проходят годы. И вот наконец мы постигаем истину. А истина в том, что все эти годы — мертвы. Все дни — мертвы. И мы сами — мертвы. Больше нечего ждать. Все — мертво. Все, кроме стрелок на часах. Это не жизнь. Только стрелки и отупение. Красивое, светлое, умное отупение.“

„Жить полной жизнью вопреки бедности значит победить бедность.“

„Люди, не зная сами, кто они такие есть, стараются помешать человеку стать тем, кем он должен быть.“

„В самых обычных, усталых, бестолковых, обозленных, неотесанных, грубых или даже бесчестных людях я искал редкостные, добрые, забавные черты – и находил.“

„Каждому суждено умереть, но я всегда думал, что для меня сделают исключение. И что?“

„Помни, — сказала мать, — ты всегда должен делиться всем, что у тебя есть. Давать, даже когда безрассудно быть расточительным. Давать всем, с кем встретишься в жизни. Тогда никто не сможет тебя обокрасть, потому что, если ты сам даешь вору, он у тебя не украдет и перестанет быть вором. И чем больше ты будешь давать, тем больше у тебя останется.“

„Если я осуждаю человечество слишком много, то это от того, что слишком хорошо знаю себя.“

„Но запомни: хорошее не гибнет. Если бы это было не так, не земле не осталось бы людей, окончилась бы всякая жизнь. А мир полон людей, полон чудесной, удивительной жизни.“

„Красота материи в её несовершенстве. Только глупцы стремятся к совершенству, которое есть не что иное, как смерть. Пусть совершенство само гоняется за тобой. Тебе не нужно его искать.“

„Ах, как я молился, как мы молились! Шестеро из нас молились на армянском, четверо — на плохом английском, и один — на русском.“

„Весь наш первый месяц в Нью-Йорке стояла жара, но это ничего, потому что я жару люблю. Холод я тоже люблю. Но когда жара, я люблю жару.“

„Всё-таки жаль, что не придумали такой премии для писателей, которым удается воздержаться от соблазна подарить миру ещё одну негодную книгу.“

“What I intended to do was to burn a half dozen of my books and keep warm, so that I could write my story, but when I looked around for titles to burn, I couldn't find any.”

“Now, having a play on the same bill with a play by the one and only, the good and great, the impish and noble, the man and superman, George Bernard Shaw, is for me an honor, and I think a most fitting thing.”

“I did my best, and let me urge you to do your best, too. Isn't it the least we can do for one another?”

“The people you hate, well, this is the question about such people: why do you hate them?”

“A man's ethnic identity has more to do with a personal awareness than with geography.”

“It is the heart of man that I am trying to imply in this work.”

“All great art has madness, and quite a lot of bad art has it, too.”

“There is only good and bad art.”

“This is what drives a young writer out of his head, this feeling that nothing is being said.”

“A writer wants what he has to say to be heard again and again. He wants it to be heard after he is dead.”

“I liked Charentz straight off, but more important than this was the feeling that I had that he was a truly great man. Human greatness is a rather difficult thing to account for, and more often than not one is mistaken in one's hunches about somebody one has met. Charentz seemed great to me, I think, because he was made of a mixture of proud virtues and amusing flaws. On the one hand, his independence of spirit was balanced by a humorous worldliness, his acute intelligence by a curiosity that frequently made him seem naive, his profoundly gentle manners by a kind of mocking mischievousness which might easily be mistaken for rudeness. But he was never rude, he was witty, and the purpose of his wit was to keep himself from the terrible condition of pomposity.”

“I have made a fiasco of my life, but I have had the right material to work with.”

“I loved the theaters, and even though I was hungry, I never spent money for food.”

“I have a faint idea what it is like to be alive.”

“Babies who have not yet been taught to speak any language are the only race of the earth, the race of man: all the rest is pretence, what we call civilization, hatred, fear, desire for strength.”

“I have managed to conceal my madness fairly effectively, and as far as I know it hasn't hurt anybody badly, for which I am grateful.”

“There was a touch of anxiety in the whole human race about its future.”

“My uncle jumped up from the desk, loving him more than he loved any other man in the world, and through him loving the lost nation, the multitude dead, and the multitude living in every alien corner of the world.”

“I myself, as a person, have been influenced by many writers and many things, and my writing has felt the impact of the writing of many writers, some relatively unknown and unimportant, some downright bad. But probably the greatest influence of them all when an influence is most effective — when the man being influenced is nowhere near being solid in his own right — has been the influence of the great tall man with the white beard, the lively eyes, the swift wit and the impish chuckle.”

“What the hell are they all looking for? A way out. A way to the right way out. A way to leave. A way to go. A way to have had it, to have had enough of it, to be done with it. A decent way to give it all over to the giver of it all.”

“The streets made me, and the streets stink, but I love them, for I was born in them out of flesh and I was born in them out of spirit.”

“I couldn't understand the language, I couldn't understand a word in the whole book, but it was somehow too eloquent to use for a fire.”

“My birthplace was California, but I couldn't forget Armenia, so what is one's country? Is it land of the earth, in a specific place? Rivers there? Lakes? The sky there? The way the moon comes up there? And the sun? Is one's country the trees, the vineyards, the grass, the birds, the rocks, the hills and summer and winter? Is it the animal rhythm of the living there? The huts and houses, the streets of cities, the tables and chairs, and the drinking of tea and talking? Is it the peach ripening in summer heat on the bough? Is it the dead in the earth there?”

“Art is what is irresistible.”

“I had long known that there was something about me that was either violent or frightening for some reason. In certain three-sided clothing store images I had for some years come upon myself, with shock and disbelief, regret, and shame, disappointment and despair, for I am indeed clearly violent, mad, and ugly, all because of intensity of some kind, a tension, an obsession with getting everything that there was to be got, a passion, an insanity.”

“The purpose of my life is to put off dying as long as possible.”

“It seemed to me that I had no right to burn a book I hadn't even read.”

“Their singing wasn't particularly good, but the feeling with which they sang was not bad at all.”

“Illness is essentially discomfort, and it is not easy for anybody to be comfortable all the time… in his body, in his work, in his house, or in his soul.”