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Childhood knows unhappiness through men. In solitude, it can relax its aches. When the human world leaves him in peace, the child feels like the son of the cosmos.

Gaston Bachelard

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Gaston Bachelard
Age: 78 †
Born: 1884
Born: June 27
Died: 1962
Died: October 16
G 巴什拉
G. Bachelard
Human
Unhappiness
Humans
Relax
Feels
Leaves
Children
Solitude
Men
Son
Like
Childhood
Aches
World
Child
Ache
Peace
Cosmos

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There are children who will leave a game to go and be bored in a corner of the garret. How often have I wished for the attic of my boredom when the complications of life made me lose the very germ of freedom!
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For in the end, the irreality function functions as well in the face of man as in the face of the cosmos. What would we know of others if we did not imagine things?
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To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful.
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A book is always an emergence above everyday life. A book is expressed life and thus is an addition to life.
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It is through the intentionality of poetic imagination that the poet's soul discovers the opening of consciousness common to all true poetry.
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I am alone so I dream of the being who has cured my solitude, who would be cured by solitudes. With its life, it brought me the idealizations of life, all the idealizations which give life a double, which lead life toward it summits, which make the dreamer too live by splitting.
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The past of the soul is so distant! The soul does not live on the edge of time. It finds its rest in the universe imagined by reverie.
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Even a minor event in the life of a child is an event of that child's world and thus a world event.
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The characteristic of scientific progress is our knowing that we did not know.
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There are reveries so deep, reveries which help us descend so deeply within ourselves that they rid us of our history. They liberate us from our name. These solitudes of today return us to the original solitudes.
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Irony gives us, at little expense, the impression that we are experienced psychologists.
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Written language must be considered as a particular psychic reality. The book is permanent it is an object in your field of vision. It speaks to you with a monotonous authority which even its author would not have. You are fairly obliged to read what is written.
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Through imagination, thanks to the subtleties of the irreality function, we re-enter the world of confidence, the world of the confident being, which is the proper world for reverie.
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It is better to live in a state of impermanence than in one of finality.
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The dream remains overloaded with the badly lived passions of daytime life. Solitude in the nocturnal dream is always a hostility. It is strange. It isn't really our solitude.
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So, like a forgotten fire, a childhood can always flare up again within us.
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The human mind has claimed for water one of its highest values-the value of purity.
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A pretext-not a cause-is sufficient for us to enter the solitary situation, the situation of the dreaming solitude. In this solitude, memories arrange themselves in tableaux. Decor takes precedence over drama. Sad memories take on at least the peace of melancholy.
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Childhood lasts all through life. It returns to animate broad sections of adult life... Poets will help us to find this living childhood within us, this permanent, durable immobile world.
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