Isabelle Eberhardt Quotes
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A nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places.
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Oh if at every moment of our lives we could know the consequences of some of the utterings, thoughts and deeds that seem so trivial and unimportant at the time! And should we not conclude from such examples that there is no such thing in life as unimportant moments devoid of meaning for the future?
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We are, all of us, poor wretches, and those who prefer not to understand this are even worse off than the rest of us.
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The cowardly belief that a person must stay in one place is too reminiscent of the unquestioning resignation of animals, beasts of burden stupefied by servitude and yet always willing to accept the slipping on of the harness. There are limits to every domain, and laws to govern every organized power. But the vagrant owns the whole vast earth that ends only at the non-existent horizon, and her empire is an intangible one, for her domination and enjoyment of it are things of the spirit.
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But the vagrant owns the whole vast earth that ends only at the nonexistent horizon, and his empire is an intangible one, for his domination and enjoyment of it are things of the spirit.
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Life on the open road is liberty... to be alone, to have few needs, to be unknown, everywhere a foreigner and at home, and to walk grandly and solitarily in conquest of the world.
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I feel alone, free, and detached from everything in the world, and I'm happy.
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The savage hatred I feel for crowds is getting worse, natural enemies that they are of imagination and of thought.
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A subject to which few intellectuals ever give a thought is the right to be a vagrant, the freedom to wander. Yet vagrancy is a deliverance, and life on the open road is the essence of freedom. To have the courage to smash the chains with which modern life has weighted us (under the pretext that it was offering us more liberty), then to take up the symbolic stick and bundle and get out.
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To be alone is to be free, and freedom was the only happiness accessible to my nature.
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Civilization, that great fraud of our times, has promised man that by complicating his existence it would multiply his pleasures. ... Civilization has promised man freedom, at the cost of giving up everything dear to him, which it arrogantly treated as lies and fantasies. ... Hour by hour needs increase and are nearly always unsatisfied, peopling the earth with discontented rebels. The superfluous has become a necessity and luxuries indispensable.
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I am full of the sorrow that goes with changes in surroundings, those successive stages of annihilation that slowly lead to the great and final void.
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The way I see it, there is no greater spiritual beauty than fanaticism, of a sort so sincere it can only end in martyrdom.
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I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
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I will only ever be drawn to people who suffer from that special and fertile anguish called self-doubt, or the thirst for the ideal, and desire for the soul's mystical fire. Self-satisfaction because of some material accomplishment will never be for me. The truly great are those who quest for better spiritual selves.
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For now it seems that by advancing into unknown territories, I entered into my life
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For those who know the value of and exquisite taste of solitary freedom (for one is only free when alone), the act of leaving is the bravest and most beautiful of all.
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The farther behind I leave the past, the closer I am to forging my own character.
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One must use the weapons one finds in one's path.
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One must never look for happiness: one meets it by the way.
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Death does not frighten me, but dying obscurely and above all uselessly does.
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A nomad I was even when I was very small and would stare at the road, that white spellbinding road headed straight for the unknown ... a nomad I will remain for life, in love with distant and uncharted places.
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I think it is impossible for human minds to think of Death as a final, irrevocable end to life.
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I am not afraid of death, but would not want to die in some obscure or pointless way.
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Now more than ever do I realize that I will never be content with a sedentary life, that I will always be haunted by thoughts of a sun-drenched elsewhere.
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While to live in the past and think of what was good and beautiful about it amounts to a sort of seasoning of the present, the perennial wait for tomorrow is bound to result in chronic discontent that poisons one's entire outlook.
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From every ruin, life springs up again and everything that dies is born again.
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