19 Quotes by Tadeusz Konwicki

I am free, anonymous man. My flights and falls occurred while I was wearing a magical cap of of invisibility, my successes and sins sailed on in invisible corvettes, and films and books flew off into the abyss in invisible strongboxes. I am free, anonymous.

But in all that suffering, the most painful suffering of all was the consciousness that it was banal, had all been discovered a long time ago, and was known to all the generations past, all just a repeated series, stamped out by our genes, That the universe was filled to its edges groans as alike as two notes, that those particular groans formed one great groan similar to the shrill parliament of the sparrows and that groan became an interstellar roar, the inaudible groan of the aging cosmos.

Our contemporary poverty is as transparent as glass and as invisible as the air. Our poverty is kilometer-long lines, the constant elbowing, spiteful officials, trains late without reason, the water cut off by some disaster (...), the monotony of living without any hope whatsoever, the decaying historic cities, the provinces emptying the rivers poisoned. Our poverty is the grace of the totalitarian state by whose grace we live.

The world can't die. Many generations have thought the world was dying. But it was only their world which was dying.

Polak, jak dać mu wolność, to wszystkich przeskoczy.Polak, jak musi czekać, to wpada w złość.Polak, jak myśli, to zawsze senny.Polak, jak ponarzeka, zaraz zdrowszy.Polak, jak przyjdzie wieczór, to zaraz wspomina.Polak, jak widzi balkon, to chce skakać.Polak, jak wpadnie w szał to biada, ślepej i gnuśnej Europie.Polka, jak zechce rzuci miliardera.

Dreams are debris from bad day. Dreams are poems by bad poets that never got written.

Yes, I am confusing literature with life. I’m declaring my own ordinary life to be a work of literature.

The world can’t die. Many generations have thought the world was dying. But it was only their world which was dying.

There are no good or evil people. There is only a great, unfathomable mob trampling itself underfoot. The life-giving sources of the old morality have dried up and vanished in the sands of oblivion. There’s no other source to draw from, no place to refresh oneself. There is no example, no inspiration. It is night. A night of indifference, apathy, chaos.