Menu

satisfaction for artlovers – cultural magazine

Tag archive

Irene Nemirovsky

IRENE NEMIROVSKY ~ A FEELING OF SOLITUDE

in The words that make sense... brilliant writings by writers... by

“But she loved studying and books, the way other people love wine for its power to make you forget. What else did she have? She lived in a deserted, silent house. The sound of her own footsteps in the empty rooms, the silence of the cold streets beyond the closed windows, the rain and the snow, the early darkness, the green lamp beside her that burned throughout the long evenings and which she watched for hours on end until its light began to waver before her weary eyes: this was the setting for her life.”

― Irène Némirovsky, The Wine of Solitude

IRENE NEMIROVSKY ~ ON MUSIC

in The Melody of Art/The words that make sense... brilliant writings by writers... by

“…for music alone can abolish differences
of language or culture between two people and invoke something indestructible within them.”

Irene Nemirovsky ― Suite Francaise 

IRENE NEMIROVSKY ~ A GOODBYE

in The words that make sense... brilliant writings by writers... by

“Adieu,” he said, “this is goodbye. I’ll never forget you, never.”
She stood silent. He looked at her and saw her eyes full of tears. He turned away.
At this moment she wasn’t ashamed of loving him, because her physical desire had gone and all she felt towards him now was pity and a profound, almost maternal tenderness. She forced herself to smile. “Like the Chinese mother who sent her son off to war telling him to be careful ‘because war has its dangers,’ I’m asking you, if you have any feelings for me, to be as careful as possible with your life.”
Because it is precious to you?” he asked nervously.
Yes. Because it is precious to me.”

Irene Nemirovsky – Suite Francaise

IRENE NEMIROVSKY ~ SOME THINGS WILL NEVER CHANGE…

in The words that make sense... brilliant writings by writers... by

“But what is certain is that in five, ten or twenty years, this problem unique to our time, according to him, will no longer exist, it will be replaced by others…Yet this music, the sound of this rain on the windows, the great mournful creaking of the cedar tree in the garden outside, this moment, so tender, so strange in the middle of war, this will never change, not this, this is forever.”
— Irène Némirovsky (Suite Française)

Go to Top