Antonio Porchia (1886 – 1968)
Argentinian writer and poet.
From my silence, only my voice is missing.
In order to reach some heights, I don’t lower them: I raise them higher.
I love for the sake of what I have loved, and what I have loved I would not go back to loving.
I’ve abandoned the beggarly need to live. I live without it.
Ever since I alone have been aware of what happens to me, nothing happens to me.
You think you kill me. I think you kill yourself.
Following straight lines shortens distances, and also life.
If I think about what life is, I believe life is a miracle. And if I think about what a miracle is, I don’t believe in it.
Nothing is not only nothing. It is also our prison.
Yes, it is necessary to suffer, even in vain, so as not to live in vain.
When everyone sorrows, no one hears the sorrows.
I have found the most beautiful side of the flowers in the fallen flowers.
Day cannot mock him who does not mock the night.
I always search for some light and always at night and never illuminated by any light.
There are those fallen who don’t get up so as not to fall again.
Man, when he realizes that he is an object of comedy, does not laugh.
Would there be this eternal seeking if the found existed?
Human suffering, while it is asleep, is shapeless. If it is wakened it takes the form of the waker.
When I do not walk in the clouds I walk as though I were lost.
No one understands that you have given everything. You must give more.