Antonio Porchia (1886 – 1968)
Argentinian writer and poet.
You can owe nothing, if you give back its light to the sun.
The shadows: some hide, others reveal.
The confession of one man humbles all.
There are dreams that need rest.
From what I awaited, came my habit of waiting.
Sometimes it as though I were in hell and I do not grieve. I do not find anything to grieve over.
Being someone is being one alone. Being someone is loneliness.
Sometimes I find that misery is so vast that I am afraid of needing it.
The killer of souls does not kill a hundred souls. He kills his own soul a hundred times.
A thing, until it is everything, is noise, and once it is everything it is silence.
My poverty is not complete: it lacks me.
I do not agree with you, but if you do not agree with yourself either, then I agree with you.
Almost always is it a the fear of being ourselves that brings us to the mirror.
Sometimes what I want and what I don’t want make so many concessions to each other that they end up looking alike.
Pain lies above, not below. And they all think that pain is below. And they all want to rise.
If you climb up step by step, you’ll always find yourself level with a step.
The chains that bind us most closely are the ones we have broken.
A hundred years die in a moment, just as a moment dies in a moment.
In a full heart there is room for everything. In an empty heart there is room for nothing.
I stop wanting what I am looking for, looking for it.