Orhan Pamuk Quotes - Page 4

• Después de todo, ¿no es el propósito de la novela, o de un museo, relatar nuestros recuerdos con tanta sinceridad como para transformar la felicidad individual en una felicidad que todos podamos compartir?

  Orhan Pamuk

  Memories, Museums, Individual Happiness

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.462, Faber & Faber

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• Writing my own diary is the best form of remembrance, but only for my own use. I need these notes; it's like an impulse.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Writing, Remembrance, Needs

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• In the mornings I used to say goodbye to my wife like someone going to work. I'd leave the house, walk around a few blocks, and come back like a person arriving at the office.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Goodbye, Morning, Block

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• Los verdaderos museos son lugares donde el Tiempo se transforma en Espacio.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Real, Museums, Space

  Orhan Pamuk (2009). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.510, Vintage

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• Cuando Turquía empezó a acercarse a la UE, no fui el único al que le preocupaba que la mancha oscura de la historia de Turquía -o más bien la historia del Imperio Otomano- pudiera convertirse en un problema algún día. Es decir, lo que les ocurrió a los armenios en la Primera Guerra Mundial. Por eso no podía dejar el tema sin tocar.

  Orhan Pamuk

  War, Dark, Turkeys

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• Actually, it's the other way round. In a poor country, the only consolation people can have is the one that comes from their beliefs.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Country, People, Way

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• El color es el toque del ojo, Música para el sordo, Una palabra de la oscuridad.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Eye, Darkness, Deaf

  Orhan Pamuk (2006). “My Name Is Red”, p.186, Vintage

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• The snow reminded me of the beauty and mystery of creation, of the essential joy that is life.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Snow, Joy, Essentials

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “Snow”, p.98, Faber & Faber

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• I think a lot about the poems I wasn't able to write...I masturbrated...Solitude is essentially a matter of pride; you bury yourself in your own scent. The issue is the same for all real poets. If you've been happy for too long, you become banal. By the same token, if you've been unhappy for a long time, you lose your poetic power...Happiness and poverty can only coexist for the briefest time. Afterword either happiness coarsens the poet or the poem is so true it destroys his happiness.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Real, Writing, Pride

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• My diary has its own kind of magic. It gives me the feeling of having accomplished something. On days when I don't have time for this, I feel tortured.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Giving, Feelings, Magic

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• A veces no los veía como recuerdos de las horas dichosas, sino como los preciosos escombros tangibles de la tormenta que asolaba mi alma.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Soul, Storm, Tangible

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.496, Faber & Faber

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• What is the thing you want most from me? What can I do to make you love me?' Be yourself,' said Ipek.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Being Yourself, Want, Said

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• What is love?” “I don’t know.” “Love is the name given to the bond Kemal feels with Füsun whenever they travel along highways or sidewalks; visit houses, gardens, or rooms; or whenever he watches her sitting in tea gardens and restaurants, and at dinner tables.” “Hmmm … that’s a lovely answer,~ But isn’t love what you feel when you can’t see me?” “Under those circumstances, it becomes a terrible obsession, an illness.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Love Is, Garden, Names

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.592, Faber & Faber

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• Que todo el mundo sepa que viví una vida muy feliz.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Happy Life, Very Happy, Knows

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.728, Faber & Faber

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• Morality is probably the last thing one can learn from football.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Football, Lasts, Morality

  Fuente: www.spiegel.de

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• As always after drinking too much, I felt like my own ghost trying to take it's first solo walk outside the body.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Drinking, Trying, Body

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.159, Faber & Faber

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• What was venerated as style was nothing more than an imperfection or flaw that revealed the guilty hand.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Hands, Imperfection, Style

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “My Name Is Red”, p.22, Faber & Faber

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• El tiempo no había desvanecido mis recuerdos (como había rogado a Dios que hiciera), ni había curado mis heridas como se dice que siempre hace. Empezaba cada día con la esperanza de que el día siguiente sería mejor, mis recuerdos un poco menos punzantes, pero me despertaba con el mismo dolor, como si una lámpara negra ardiera eternamente dentro de mí, irradiando oscuridad.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Pain, Memories, Next Day

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “The Museum of Innocence”, p.219, Faber & Faber

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• Mi decisión de ver el mundo a través de las novelas, por así decirlo, que es una forma típicamente europea de ver las cosas, se convirtió en una pesada carga para mí. Pero lo asumí conscientemente, a pesar de que era una tortura para mí.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Views, Decision, World

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• The drinking of coffee is an absolute sin! Our Glorious Prophet did not partake of coffee because he knew it dulled the intellect, caused ulcers, hernia and sterility; he understood that coffee was nothing but the Devil's ruse.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Drinking, Coffee, Devil

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “My Name Is Red”, p.14, Faber & Faber

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• To savour Istanbul's back streets, to appreciate the vines and trees that endow its ruins with accidental grace, you must, first and foremost, be a stranger to them.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Istanbul, Appreciate, Tree

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “Istanbul”, p.331, Faber & Faber

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• The real choice we have to make is between peace and nationalism.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Real, Choices, Nationalism

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “Other Colours”, p.349, Faber & Faber

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• When something explosive is kept hidden away, a tension builds within that must ultimately be released.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Tension, Explosives

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• I certainly see myself more as a craftsman than as an artist.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Artist, Craftsman

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• Con el tiempo, he llegado a ver el trabajo de la literatura menos como narrar el mundo que como "ver el mundo con palabras". Desde el momento en que empieza a utilizar las palabras como los colores en un cuadro, un escritor puede empezar a ver lo maravilloso y sorprendente que es el mundo, y rompe los huesos del lenguaje para encontrar su propia voz. Para ello necesita papel, un bolígrafo y el optimismo de un niño que mira el mundo por primera vez.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Children, Color, Voice

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “Other Colours”, p.15, Faber & Faber

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