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The first moments of sleep are an image of death a hazy torpor grips our thoughts and it becomes impossible for us to determine the exact instant when the I, under another form, continues the task of existence.
Gerard De Nerval
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Gerard De Nerval
Age: 44 †
Born: 1808
Born: May 22
Died: 1853
Died: January 26
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Paris
France
Gérard Labrunie
Jerar de Nerval
Existence
Instant
Death
Determine
Torpor
Moments
Tasks
Hazy
Another
Image
Grips
Form
Thoughts
Fog
Firsts
Becomes
Continues
First
Impossible
Exact
Sleep
Task
More quotes by Gerard De Nerval
The tree of knowledge is not the tree of life! And yet can we cast out of our spirits all the good or evil poured into them by so many learned generations? Ignorance cannot be learned.
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I have always differentiated between two types of friends those who want proofs of friendship, and those who do not. One kind loves me for myself and the others for themselves.
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The key to success is simple. Make people dream.
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The first man who compared woman to a rose was a poet the second, an imbecile.
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The intoxication of the faro drinker only shows itself at first by an increase in noise which is only deafening, and finally by a silent deterioration of the mind.
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Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.
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İstanbul is a magical seal which unites Europe and Asia since the ancient times. Without a doubt, Istanbul is certainly the most beautiful place of the world.
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L'imagination m'apportait des délices infinies. En recouvrant ce que les hommes appellent la raison, faudra-t-il regretter de les avoir perdues...? My imagination gave me infinite delight. In recovering what men call reason, do I have to regret the loss of these joys?
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I have never felt any rest in sleep. For a few seconds I am numbed, then a new life begins, freed from the conditions of time and space, and doubtless similar to that state which awaits us after death. Who knows if there is not some link between those two existences and if it is not possible for the soul to unite them now?
Gerard De Nerval
The only refuge left to us was the poet's ivory tower, which we climbed, ever higher, to isolate ourselves from the mob.
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