Antonio Porchia (1885-1968)

To wound the heart is to create it.
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They’ll say you’re walking down the wrong path, if you’re walking down your path.
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What you do is not what you think you do.
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A door opens to me. I go in and am faced with a hundred closed doors.
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Everything is a bit of darkness, even light itself.
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The shadows: some hide, others reveal.
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Not everyone does evil, but everyone stands accused.
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We perceive emptiness by filling it.
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Even the smallest of creatures carries the sun in its eyes.
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When the superficial wearies me, it wearies me so much that I need an abyss in order to rest.
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Only a few arrive at nothing, because the way is long.
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Man, when he realises that he is an object of comedy, does not laugh.
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Sometimes I believe that evil is everything, and that good is only a beautiful desire for evil.
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The love that is not all pain is not all love.
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Whoever loves knowing why they love, doesn’t love.
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Don’t uncover, because there might be nothing. And nothing can’t be covered again.
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Nothing is not only nothing. It is also our prison.
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Man goes nowhere. Everything comes to man, like tomorrow.
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I can wait for you longer. Because you have arrived.
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The less you think you are, the more you bear. And if you think you’re nothing, you bear everything.
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Fear of separation is all that unites.
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I’ve come to be a step away from everything. And here I stay, away from everything, by a step.
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Only the wound speaks its own word.
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I know what I have given you, I do not know what you have received.
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Almost without words, you’ve come to this world, which understands nothing without words.
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Some, getting ahead of everyone, are winning the desert.
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You are sad because they abandon you and you have not fallen.
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There are dreams that need rest.
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One can owe nothing by giving its light back to the sun.
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Every toy has the right to break.
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The loss of a thing affects us until we have lost it altogether.
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Near me nothing but distances.
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When one does not love the impossible, one does not love anything.




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From Voices by Antonio Porchia




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