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You think you are killing me. I think you are committing suicide.

Antonio Porchia

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Antonio Porchia
Age: 81 †
Born: 1886
Born: November 25
Died: 1968
Died: November 6
Aphorist
Poet
Writer
Committing
Suicide
Killing
Think
Thinking

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Injury, when it is slight, upsets me when it is strong it calms me.
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When everything is finished, the mornings are sad.
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Yes, this is what good is: to forgive evil. There is no other good.
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Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow.
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I began my comedy as its only actor and I come to the end as its only spectator.
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You know so much about me and yet you don't understand me. To know is not to understand. We could know everything and still not understand anything.
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That in man which cannot be domesticated is not his evil but his goodness.
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He who tells the truth says almost nothing.
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Sometimes at night I light a lamp so as not to see.
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I believe that the soul consists of its sufferings. For the soul that cures its own sufferings dies.
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He who does not fill his world with phantoms remains alone.
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A thing, until it is everything, is noise, and once it is everything it is silence.
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If only I could leave everything as it is, without moving a single star or a single cloud. Oh, if only I could!
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Out of a hundred years a few minutes were made that stayed with me, not a hundred years.
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Following straight lines shortens distances, and also life.
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We become aware of the void as we fill it.
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Human suffering, while it is asleep, is shapeless. If it is wakened it takes the form of the waker.
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Even the smallest of creatures carries the sun in its eyes.
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Without this ridiculous vanity that takes the form of self-display, and is part of everything and everyone, we would see nothing, and nothing would exist.
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They have stopped deceiving you, not loving you. And it seems to you that they have stopped loving you.
Antonio Porchia