Henry Miller Quotes

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Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.
[Henry Miller] [Treasures]

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All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous unpremeditated act without benefit of experience.
[Henry Miller] [Taking Chances]

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All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous, unpremeditated act without benefit of experience.
[Growth] [Henry Miller]

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The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face. Thousands and thousands of us, and we're passing one another without a look of recognition.
[Henry Miller] [Mac Miller Snap Back]

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Whatever I do is done out of sheer joy; I drop my fruits like a ripe tree. What the general reader or the critic makes of them is not my concern.
[Henry Miller] [Mac Miller Snap Back]

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It does me good to write a letter which is not a response to a demand, a gratuitous letter, so to speak, which has accumulated in me like the waters of a reservoir.
[Henry Miller] [Mac Miller Snap Back]

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In expanding the field of knowledge we but increase the horizon of ignorance.
[Henry Miller] [Mac Miller Snap Back]

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On the meridian of time, there is no injustice: there is only the poetry of motion creating the illusion of truth and drama.
[Henry Miller]

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Paint what you like and die happy
[Henry Miller]

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I want to get more familiar with you. I love you. I loved you when you came and sat on the bed--all that second afternoon was like warm mist--and I hear again the way you say my name--with that queer accent of yours. You arouse in me such a mixture of feelings, I don't know how to approach you. Only come to me--get closer and closer to me. It will be beautiful, I promise you.
[Henry Miller]

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Certainly paradise, whatever, wherever it be, contains flaws. (Paradisical flaws, if you like.) If it did not, it would be incapable of drawing the hearts of men or angels.
[Life] [Henry Miller] [Paradise] [Flaws] [Spain]

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Madness is tonic and invigorating. It makes the sane more sane. The only ones who are unable to profit by it are the insane.
[Henry Miller]

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have you ever seen a genius out there looking for a job? it's the saddest thing in the world. no one will hire him. there is only one place where he is always welcome- at the bottom.
[Henry Miller]

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Music is a beautiful opiate, if you don't take it too seriously
[Henry Miller] [Mac Miller Weed]

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Paris is like a whore. From a distance she seems ravishing, you can't wait until you have her in your arms. And five minutes later you feel empty, disgusted with yourself. You feel tricked.
[Henry Miller]

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Voyages are accomplished inwardly.
[Henry Miller]

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I have been a little embarrassed always. But less so the last time. It will all disappear. You have such a delicious sense of humor--I adore that in you. I want always to see you laughing. It belongs to you. I have been thinking of places we ought to go together--little obscure places, here and there, in Paris. Just to say--here I went with Anais--here we ate or danced or got drunk together. Ah, to see you really drunk sometime, that would be a treat! I am almost afraid to suggest it--but Anais, when I think of how you press against me, how eagerly you open your legs and how wet you are, God, it drives me mad to think what you would be like when everything falls away.
[Henry Miller]

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Were there a Christian so faithful to his God as I was to her we would all be Jesus Christ today.
[Henry Miller]

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Side by side with the human race there runs another race of beings, the inhuman ones, the race of artists who, goaded by unknown impulses, take the lifeless mass of humanity and by the fever and ferment with which they imbue it turn this soggy dough into bread and the bread into wine and the wine into song.
[Henry Miller]

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What are our conductors giving us year after year? Only fresh corpses. Over these beautifully embalmed sonatas, toccatas, symphonies and operas the public dance the jitterbug. Night and day without let the radio drowns us in a hog-wash of the most nauseating, sentimental ditties. From the churches comes the melancholy dirge of the dead Christ, a music which is no more sacred than a rotten turnip.
[Henry Miller]