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Cesare Pavese Biography

Cesare Pavese (Italian: [ˈtʃeːzare paˈveːze]; 9 September 1908 – 27 August 1950) was an Italian poet, novelist, literary critic and translator. He is widely considered among the major authors of the 20th century in his home country.

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Cesare Pavese Quotes

Death is repose, but the thought of death disturbs all repose.

Death, Disturbs, Repose, Thought, Thoughts Of Death

Whatever people may say, the fastidious formal manner of the upper classes is preferable to the slovenly easygoing behaviour of the common middle class. In moments of crisis, the former know how to act, the latter become uncouth brutes.

Become, Behaviour, Fastidious, Middle, People, Upper Class

You will hear words old and spent and useless like costumes left over from yesterday's parties.

Hear, Like, Party, Useless, Yesterday

Every luxury must be paid for, and everything is a luxury, starting with being in this world.

Everything, Life, Luxury, Paid, Pay The Price

A corpse is what's left after waking too often.

Corpse, Corpses, Left, Waking

For women, history does not exist. Murasaki, Sappho, and Madame Lafayette might be their own contemporaries.

Contemporaries, Doe, History, Lafayette, Sappho, Women

Suicides are timid murderers. Masochism instead of Sadism.

Masochism, Murderer, Murderers, Sadism, Suicide

Don't mix wine and women.

Mix, Wine, Women, Women And Wine

No woman marries for money; they are all clever enough, before marrying a millionaire, to fall in love with him first.

Love, Marriage, Millionaire, Money

The art of living is the art of knowing how to believe lies. The fearful thing about it is that, not knowing what truth may be, we can still recognize lies.

Art, Believe, Fearful, Lying, Recognize, Thing

No one ever lacks a good reason for suicide.

Good, Reason, Suicidal, Suicide

Waiting is still an occupation. It is having nothing to wait for that is terrible.

Nothing, Occupation, Patience, Wait, Waiting

Life without smoking is like the smoke without the roast.

Life, Like, Smoke, Smoking

Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

Life, Lost, Morning, Stars, Stones, Sweet

Human imagination is immensely poorer than reality.

Humans, Imagination, Immensely, Poorer, Reality

A work settles nothing, just as the labor of a whole generation settles nothing. Sons, and the morrow, always start afresh.

Artistic, Generations, Labor, Settles, Son, Start

The cadence of suffering has begun. Every evening at dusk, my heart constricts until night has come.

Begun, Evening, Grief, Heart, Night, Suffering

There is no finer revenge than that which others inflict on your enemy. Moreover, it has the advantage of leaving you the role of a generous man.

Advantage, Finer, Generous, Generous Man, Men, Revenge

The man who cannot live with charity, sharing other men's pain, is punished by feeling his own with intolerable anguish.

Charity, Feelings, Live, Man, Men, Pain

The closing years of life are like the end of a masquerade party, when the masks are dropped.

Closing, Dropped, Life, Masks, Party, Time

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Cesare Pavese Biography

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