Quotes by Par Lagerkvist - Deep, serious, thoughtful, interesting thoughts of the Nobel Prize winning Swedish writer, poetry, drama, novelist, storyteller
Par Fabian Lagerqvist was born on 23 May 1891 in Växjö, Sweden, a famous Swedish writer, poet, dramatist, novelist, storyteller. Lagerqvist received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1951 for his significant contribution to the field of literature. One of the central themes of Lagerqvist's writings was the question of good and evil, for which he also drew on the Bible. As a Puritan he used religious motifs and figures from the Christian tradition without following the doctrines of the Church. Here are some deep, serious, thoughtful, interesting statements by Par Lagerqvist.
Human beings like to see themselves reflected in blurry mirrors.
What would life be like if it were meaningless? Vanity is the foundation on which it rests. On what other foundation could it be based that would hold firm and never give way? A great idea can be weakened by another great idea and in time it can even be demolished. But futility is impassable, indestructible, immovable. This is a true basis and that is why it has been chosen as such.
Nothing is as certain as final oblivion.
All human culture is merely an attempt at something unattainable, something far beyond our powers of perception. There it stands, mutilated, as sad as a torso. Is not the soul of man itself a torso?
Love is something that dies and when it dies it rots and becomes soil for new love. Dead love continues its secret life in living love, and thus in reality there is no death in love.
A jealous maniac! He for whom even a pebble has value is certainly surrounded by treasures wherever he goes.
It is difficult to understand those whom one does not hate, because then one is unarmed, one has nothing to penetrate their existence.
In appearance he was a friendly person with good manners, but one cannot judge people from their faces. It is their body that shows them what kind of animal they are.
I find that sometimes I scare people, they're actually afraid of themselves. They think it is I who scare them, but it is the dwarf within them, the ape-faced man-like creature who pokes his head out from the depths of their soul.
His eyelids were moist and small drops of sweat were sprinkled on his upper lips. I considered his sleep almost innocent in its foolish thoughtlessness and its oblivion of all dangers and the outside world. Is this what humans call happiness?
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