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He hated all this, and somehow he couldn't get away.
Joseph Conrad
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Joseph Conrad
Age: 66 †
Born: 1857
Born: December 3
Died: 1924
Died: August 3
Author
Autobiographer
Essayist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Berdichev
Jozef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski
Hated
Somehow
Couldn
Away
More quotes by Joseph Conrad
The ocean has the conscienceless temper of a savage autocrat spoiled by much adulation
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I saw him open his mouth wide. . . as though he had wanted to swallow all the air, all the earth, all the men before him.
Joseph Conrad
Everything belonged to him. It made me hold my breath in expectation of hearing the wilderness burst into prodigious peal of laughter that would shake the fixed stars in their places.
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Danger lies in the writer becoming the victim of his own exaggeration, losing the exact notion of sincerity, and in the end coming to despise truth itself as something too cold, too blunt for his purpose -- as, in fact, not good enough for his insistent emotion. From laughter and tears the descent is easy to sniveling and giggles.
Joseph Conrad
All a man can betray is his conscience.
Joseph Conrad
A task, any task, undertaken in an adventurous spirit acquires the merit of romance.
Joseph Conrad
The artist appeals to that part of our being...which is a gift and not an acquisition - and, therefore, more permanently enduring.
Joseph Conrad
The world of finance is a mysterious world in which, incredible as the fact may appear, evaporation precedes liquidation.
Joseph Conrad
As to honor - you know - it's a very fine mediaeval inheritance which women never got hold of. It wasn't theirs.
Joseph Conrad
In plucking the fruit of memory one runs the risk of spoiling its bloom, especially if it has got to be carried into the market.
Joseph Conrad
Gossip is what no one claims to like, but everybody enjoys.
Joseph Conrad
The vision seemed to enter the house with me-the stretcher, the phantom-bearers, the wild crowd of obedient worshippers, the gloom of the forests, the glitter of the reach between the murky bends, the beat of the drum, regular and muffled like the beating of a heart-the heart of a conquering darkness.
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A ship in dock, surrounded by quays and the walls of warehouses, has the appearance of a prisoner meditating upon freedom in the sadness of a free spirit put under restraint.
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Hang ideas! They are tramps, vagabonds, knocking at the back-door of your mind, each taking a little of your substance, each carrying away some crumb of that belief in a few simple notions you must cling to if you want to live decently and would like to die easy!
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It made you feel very small, very lost, and yet it was not altogether depressing, that feeling. After all, if you were small, the grimy beetle crawled on - which was just what you wanted it to do.
Joseph Conrad
Fiction is history, human history, or it is nothing.
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The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and the tranquil water-way leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky--seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.
Joseph Conrad
Everybody had to be thoroughly understood before being accepted.
Joseph Conrad
The sea - this truth must be confessed - has no generosity. No display of manly qualities - courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness - has ever been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power.
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Books may be written in all sorts of places. Verbal inspiration may enter the berth of a mariner on board a ship frozen fast in a river in the middle of a town.
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