Top Susanna Tamaro Quotes - Quotesmemo.com

Susanna Tamaro Biography

Susanna Tamaro (Italian pronunciation: [suˈzanna taˈmaːro]; Trieste, 12 December 1957) is an Italian novelist. She has also worked as a scientific documentarist and movie maker direction assistant.

Read about Susanna Tamaro in Wikipedia

Random Authors

Susanna Tamaro Quotes

Unshed tears leave a deposit on your heart. Eventually they form a crust around it and paralyze it, the way mineral deposits paralyze a washing machine.

Crust, Heart, Machines, Paralyze, Tears

Happiness always has an object. . . Depends on external things. Joy. . . Has no object. It seizes you for no apparent reason, it's like the sun, its burning is fueled by its own heart.

Burning, Depends, Heart, Joy, Sun

To make mistakes is natural, but to go to one's grave without having understood them is to make life a pointless exercise.

Exercise, Grave, Make, Mistake, Natural

Follow your heart, and listen when it speaks to you.

Follow, Follow Your Heart, Heart, Listen, Speak

Love doesn't suit the lazy; sometimes it requires strong, precise actions.

Actions, Lazy, Love, Strong

The love withheld is always the love we long for most.

Long, Love, Withheld

In the course of that night I suddenly realized that there are many tiny windows between the body and the spirit. If they're open, emotions flow freely back and forth, but if they're partially closed, not much can filter through. Only love can fling them open all together, all at once, like a gust of wind.

Filter, Gust, Love, Night, Realized, Wind

life is not a race, but a shot on target: what counts is not the saving of time, but the ability to find a centre

Life, Race, Saving, Shot, Target, Time

The only master that exists, the only one that's true and believable is your own conscience. To find it you have to stand in silence-alone and in silence-you have to stand on the naked earth, naked yourself and with nothing around you, as if you were already dead. You don't hear anything at first; the only thing you feel is terror, but then you begin to hear a voice, away in the background, far off; it's a calm voice, and maybe its banality gets on your nerves to begin with.

Calm, Dead, Naked, Nerves, Silence, Voice

In the middle of a conversation, she'll frequently say something like, "Young people are heartless, they don't have any respect anymore. " I nod agreement in hopes that she'll stop right there, but secretly I'm convinced that the heart is the same as it's always been; there's simply less hypocrisy, that's all. Young people aren't naturally selfish, any more than old folks are naturally wise. Your age doesn't have anything to do with whether you're sensitive or shallow; it's a question of the path your life takes.

Heart, Hopes, Life, Selfish, Simply, Wise

You know, that's what I've regretted the most, that joy. Of course, later there were times when I felt happy, but happiness is to joy what an electric light bulb is to the sun. Happiness always has an object, you're happy because of something, it's a condition whose existence depends on external things. Joy, on the other hand, has no object. It seizes you for no apparent reason; it's like the sun- its burning is fueled by its own heart.

External, Hand, Hands, Heart, Light, Seizes

But in order to be strong, you have to love yourself, and in order to love yourself, you need thorough self-knowledge, you need to know everything about yourself, including your most hidden secrets, the ones most difficult to accept.

Accept, Difficult, Love You, Self, Strong, Thorough

Do you know what's one mistake we always make? Believing that life's immutable, that once you get on a particular track you have to follow it to the end of the line. But it appears that fate has more imagination than we do. Just when you think you're in a situation you can't escape from, when you've reached the lowest depths of total desperation, everything changes as fast as a gust of wind, everything's overturned; from one second to the next you find you're living a new life.

Believe, Depths, Fast, Life, Line, Mistake

Susanna Tamaro Biography

Contact Us

About us