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The realisation of one's own death is the point at which one becomes adult.
Lawrence Durrell
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Lawrence Durrell
Age: 78 †
Born: 1912
Born: January 1
Died: 1990
Died: November 8
Autobiographer
Biographer
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Visual Artist
Writer
Jullundur
Realisation
Adult
Adults
Becomes
Point
Death
More quotes by Lawrence Durrell
The steward, according to custom, had stopped all the clocks. This, in the language of Narouz, said Your stay with us is so brief, let us not be reminded of the flight of the hours.
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Poverty is a great cutter-off and riches a great shutter-off.
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It's unthinkable not to love - you'd have a severe nervous breakdown. Or you'd have to be Philip Larkin.
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I'm trying to die correctly, but it's very difficult, you know.
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Let us define 'man' as a poet perpetually conspiring against himself.
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The richest love is that which submits to the arbitration of time.
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Like all young men I set out to be a genius, but mercifully laughter intervened.
Lawrence Durrell
How grudging memory is, and how bitterly she clutches the raw material of her daily work.
Lawrence Durrell
Travel can be one of the most rewarding forms of introspection.
Lawrence Durrell
A taste older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water.
Lawrence Durrell
It is not peace we seek but meaning.
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No one can go on being a rebel too long without turning into an autocrat.
Lawrence Durrell
Life is like a cucumber. One minute it's in your hand, the next it's up you ass.
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We are all hunting for rational reasons for believing in the absurd.
Lawrence Durrell
I have been thinking about the girl I met last night in the mirror: dark on the marble-ivory white: glossy black hair: deep suspiring eyes in which one's glances sink because they are nervous, curious, turned to sexual curiosity.
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A city becomes a world when one loves one of its inhabitants.
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Odd, isn't it? He really was the right man for her in a sort of way but then as you know, it is a law of love that the so-called 'right' person always comes to soon or too late.
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A diary is the last place to go if you wish to seek the truth about a person. Nobody dares to make the final confession to themselves on paper: or at least, not about love.
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You see, nothing matters except pleasure - which is the opposite of happiness, its tragic part, I expect.
Lawrence Durrell
Art—the meaning of the pattern of our common actions in reality. The cloth-of-gold that hides behind the sackcloth of reality, forced out by the pain of human memory.
Lawrence Durrell
