Quote

Even in the game there lurks a lack of freedom even in a game is a trap for the players.

Milan Kundera

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Milan Kundera
Age: 95
Born: 1929
Born: April 1
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Translator
University Teacher
Writer
Brünn
Even
Trap
Traps
Players
Lack
Player
Game
Games
Freedom
Lurks

More quotes by Milan Kundera

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Eroticism is like a dance: one always leads the other.
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Ambition is a poor excuse for not having sense enough to be lazy.
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Is a novel anything but a trap set for a hero?
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She knew that there were all kinds of ways to make a conquest and that one of the surest roads to a woman's genitals was through her sadness.
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Merely by being born intelligent, you right away find yourself in absolute exile.
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The longing for order is at the same time a longing for death, because life is an incessant disruption of order.
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Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo.
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Any new possibility that existence acquires, even the least likely, transforms everything about existence.
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And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself?
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I am not worthy of my suffering. A great sentence. It suggests not only that suffering is the basis of the self, its sole indubitable ontological proof, but also that it is the one feeling most worthy of respect the value of all values.
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Through the air floated only important words, and Flajsman said to himself that love has but one true measure, and that is death. At the end of true love is death, and only the love that ends in death is love.
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The important thing is to abide by the rule of threes. Either you see a woman three times in quick succession and then never again, or you maintain relations over the years but make sure that the rendezvous are at least three weeks apart.
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Cemeteries in Bohemia are like gardens. The graves are covered with grass and colourful flowers. Modest tombstones are lost in the greenery. When the sun goes down, the cemetery sparkles with tiny candles... no matter how brutal life becomes, peace always reigns in the cemetery. Even in wartime, even in Hitler's time, even in Stalin's time.
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Indeed, the only truly serious questions are ones that even a child can formulate. Only the most naive of questions are truly serious.
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To rebel against being born a woman seemed as foolish to her as to take pride in it.
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The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful ... Love begins at the point when a woman enters her first word into our poetic memory.
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But if God is gone and man is no longer master, then who is master?
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How goodness heightens beauty!
Milan Kundera
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At the end of true love is death, and only the love that ends in death is love.
Milan Kundera
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The degree of slowness is directionally proportional to the intensity of memory. The degree of speed is directionally proportional to the intensity of forgetting.
Milan Kundera