Orhan Pamuk Quotes

Sometimes I think my soul is full of weeds!

I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.

My heart beat Beats me senselessly Why's everything Gotta be so intense with me.

I’ve been feeling something else. Like I’m about to be sucked into something powerful and painful.

The dimensions of my feelings are too violent.

Our heart glows, and secret unrest gnaws at the root of our being. Dealing with the unconscious has become a question of life for us.

Grief is at once a public and a private experience. One's inner, inexpressible disruption cannot be fully realized in one's public persona.

My soul is dark with stormy riot: directly traced over to diet.

It's curious how we act in moments of personal despair.

Everyone has monsters and demons within themselves. They're metaphors for the human condition.

I hit my head against the wall because I don't want to know all the terrible things that I know about. I don't want to feel all these wretched things, but they're in me already. If I don't get rid of them, I'm not ever going to feel anything else.

The harrowing of the soul can be like the harrowing of the soil; to increase the yield, things are turned upside down.

I hate you." I love you." You're a freak, you know that? Everyone says so. They always have." I'm trying not to be.

She was owner and captive, both, of a bitterly divided heart.

Ten thousand million nightmares, temptation by the score, I used to get so high, and still I wanted more. You think my time is wasted in search of who I am, I tried so hard to kill the boy inside the man.

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

As you sell your soul and sow your seeds, and you wound yourself and your loved ones bleed. And your habits grow and your conscience feeds, on all that you thought you should be.

The greatest mania of all is passion: and I am a natural slave to passion: the balance between my brain and my soul and my body is as wild and delicate as the skin of a Ming vase.

What you call passion is not spiritual force, but friction between the soul and the outside world.

But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

At sometime in our lives a devil dwells within us, causes heartbreaks, confusion and troubles, then dies.

Anxiety is our agitated soul scrambling for control.

Her little butterfly soul fluttered incessantly between memory and dubious expectation.