Sartre Nausea Quotes

#1. Perhaps it was a passing moment of madness after all. There is no trace of it any more. My odd feelings of the other week seem to me quite ridiculous today: I can no longer enter into them.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#2. My passion was dead. For years it had rolled over and submerged me; now I felt empty. But that wasn't the worst: before me, posed with a sort of indolence, was a voluminous, insipid idea. I did not see clearly what it was, but it sickened me so much I couldn't look at it.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#3. I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#4. People get mad Annabel. Its not the end of the world.

Sarah Dessen

#5. Undoubtedly, on his death bed, at
that moment when, ever since Socrates, it has been proper to pronounce certain elevated words, he told
his wife, as one of my uncles told his, who
had watched beside him for twelve nights, I do not thank you, Therese; you have only done your
duty.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#6. Others quite new when covered with ice, all white, all throbbing, are like swans about to fly, but the earth has already caught them from below. They twist and tear themselves from the mud, only to be flattened out a little further on.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#7. The truth is that I can't put down my pen: I think I'm going to have the Nausea and I feel as though I'm delaying it while writing. So I write whatever comes into my mind.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#8. It is not very polite to interrupt a person, of course, but sometimes if the person is very unpleasant you can hardly stop yourself.

Lemony Snicket

#9. Farewell, beautiful
lilies, elegant in your painted little sanctuaries, good-bye, lovely lilies, our pride and reason for
existing, good-bye you bastards!

Jean-Paul Sartre

#10. If I were in their place, I'd fall over myself.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#11. The heart has reasons that reason cannot know.

Blaise Pascal

#12. I have no taste for work any longer, I can do nothing more except wait for night.
530: Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#13. The Nausea has stayed down there, in the yellow light. I am happy: this cold is so pure, this night so pure: am I myself not a wave of icy air? With neither blood, nor lymph, nor flesh. Flowing down this long canal towards the pallor down there. To be nothing but coldness.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#14. The
Nausea has not left me and I don't believe it will leave me so soon; but I no longer have to bear it, it is
no longer an illness or a passing fit: it is I.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#15. General ideas are more flattering. And then professionals and even amateurs always end up by being right

Jean-Paul Sartre

#16. People. You must love people. Men are admirable. I want
to vomit - and suddenly, there it is: the Nausea

Jean-Paul Sartre

#17. Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that's all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#18. Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them: they are useful, nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#19. He takes a few dazed steps, the waiters turn out the lights and he slips into unconsciousness: when this man is lonely he sleeps.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#20. Everything is gratuitous, this garden, this city and myself. When you suddenly realize it, it makes you feel sick and everything begins to drift ... that's nausea.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#21. You exaggerate everything. You continually force the truth because you're always looking for something.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#22. An economy may be in equilibrium from a short-period point of view and yet contain within itself incompatibilities that are soon going to knock it out of equilibrium.

Joan Robinson

#23. I would like to see the truth clearly before it is too late.

Jean-Paul Sartre

#24. She'd smiled. He'd smiled. She'd wanted to claw his face to shreds.

Leigh Bardugo