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She regarded books as the emblems of secret brotherhood. A man with this sort of library couldn't possibly hurt her.
Milan Kundera
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Milan Kundera
Age: 95
Born: 1929
Born: April 1
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University Teacher
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Brünn
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Book
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More quotes by Milan Kundera
The history of music is mortal, but the idiocy of the guitar is eternal.
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Culture is perishing in overproduction, in an avalanche of words, in the madness of quantity.
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The novelist's ambition is not to do something better than his predecessors but to see what they did not see, say what they did not say.
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Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that's beautiful.
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Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that's very beautiful. But what would they nourish their intimate talk with? However contemptible the world may be, they still need it to be able to talk together.
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Beauty has long since disappeared. It has slipped beneath the surface of the noise, the noise of words, sunk deep as Atlantis. The only thing left of it is the word, whose meaning loses clarity from year to year.
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The great European novel started out as entertainment, and every true novelist is nostalgic for it. In fact, the themes of those great entertainments are terribly serious-think of Cervantes!
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We don't know when our name came into being or how some distant ancestor acquired it. We don't understand our name at all, we don't know its history and yet we bear it with exalted fidelity, we merge with it, we like it, we are ridiculously proud of it as if we had thought it up ourselves in a moment of brilliant inspiration.
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Even in the game there lurks a lack of freedom even in a game is a trap for the players.
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The moment Kafka attracts more attenetion than Joseph K., Kafka's posthumous death begins.
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Remembering now all those farewells (fake farewells, worked-up farewells), Irena thinks: a person who messes up her goodbyes shouldn’t expect much from her re-unions.
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Those boobs of yours are ubiquitous - like God!
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This symmetrical composition--the same motif at the beginning and at the end--may seem quite novelistic to you, and I am willing to agree, but only on condition that you refrain from reading such notions as fictive, fabricated, and untrue to life into the word novelistic. Because human lives are composed in precisely such a fas
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The only reason people want to be masters of the future is to change the past.
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I understood that there was no escaping the memories, that I was surround by them. (p.30)
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Believe me, nothing is more beautiful than to carry out crazy ideas. I'd like my whole life to be one single crazy idea.
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Unlike the puerile loyalty to a conviction, loyalty to a friend is a virtue - perhaps the only virtue, the last remaining one.
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what's the matter? he asked nothing what do you want me to do for you? i want you to be old. ten years older. twenty years older what she meant was: i want you to be weak. as weak as i am.
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The emotion of love gives all of us a misleading illusion of knowing the other.
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She was experiencing the same odd happiness and odd sadness as then. The sadness meant: We are at the last station. The happiness meant: We are together. The sadness was form, the happiness content. Happiness filled the space of sadness.
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