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She says people ought to learn to live like them, with the body abandoned in a wilderness, and in the mind the memory of a single kiss, a single word, a single look to stand for a whole love.

Marguerite Duras

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Marguerite Duras
Age: 81 †
Born: 1914
Born: April 4
Died: 1996
Died: March 3
Author
Autobiographer
Feminist
Film Director
Journalist
Novelist
Philosopher
Playwright
Poet Lawyer
Publisher
Screenwriter
Writer
Gia Định Province
Marguerite Donnadieu
Marguerite Germaine Marie Donnadieu
People
Body
Memory
Live
Single
Look
Ought
Looks
Memories
Whole
Says
Abandoned
Mind
Stand
Wilderness
Love
Word
Kiss
Like
Learn
Kissing

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I know it's not clothes that make women beautiful or otherwise, nor beauty care, nor expensive creams, nor the distinction of costliness of their finery. I know the problem lies elsewhere. I don't know where. I only know it isn't where women think.
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Paradoxically, the freedom of Paris is associated with a persistent belief that nothing ever changes. Paris, they say, is the city that changes least. After an absence of twenty or thirty years, one still recognizes it.
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Get rid of things or you'll spend your whole life tidying up.
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Before they're plumbers or writers or taxi drivers or unemployed or journalists, before everything else, men are men. Whether heterosexual or homosexual. The only difference is that some of them remind you of it as soon as you meet them, and others wait for a little while.
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Alcohol doesn't console, it doesn't fill up anyone's psychological gaps, all it replaces is the lack of God.
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Drinking isn't necessarily the same as wanting to die. But you can't drink without thinking you're killing yourself.
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Journalism without a moral position is impossible. Every journalist is a moralist. It's absolutely unavoidable.
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It has been my face. It's got older still, or course, but less, comparatively, than it would otherwise have done. It's scored with deep, dry wrinkles, the skin is cracked. But my face hasn't collapsed, as some with fine feature have done. It's kept the same contours, but its substance has been laid waste. I have a face laid waste.
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One must talk. That's how it is. One must.
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A prolonged silence ensues. The reason for the silence is our growing interest one for the other. No one is aware of it, no one yet no one? am I quite sure?
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The solitude of writing is a solitude without which writing could not be produced, or would crumble, drained bloodless by the search for something else to write.
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Life is only lived full-time by women with children.
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Men like women who write. Even though they don't say so. A writer is a foreign country.
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I suddenly remember something I've been told about fear. That amid a hail of machine gun fire you notice the existence of your skin.
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People come to Paris, to the capital, to give their lives a sense of belonging, of an almost mythical participation in society.
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The thing that's between us is fascination, and the fascination resides in our being alike. Whether you're a man or a woman, the fascination resides in finding out that we're alike.
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Frigidity is desire imagined by a woman who doesnt desire the man offering himself to her. Its the desire of a woman for a man who hasnt yet come to her, whom she doesnt yet know. Shes faithful to this stranger even before she belongs to him. Frigidity is the non-desire for whatever is not him.
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I acquired that drinker's face before I drank. Drink only confirmed it. The space for it existed in me.
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It's only women who are not really quite women at all, frivolous women who have no idea, who neglect repairs.
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All that remains of that minute is time in all its purity, bone-white time.
Marguerite Duras