Jacques Prevert Quotes

We move through the day like two hands of a clock: sometimes we overlap for a moment, then come apart again, carrying on alone. Everyday exactly the same: the tea, the burnt toast, the crumbs, the silence.

Let's have a day in the life of Gerard." Going to get coffee! Going to get coffee!' That's all it would be.

For I have known them all already, known them all— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

The most exciting thing either of us does is nap.

All the travelin I ever done is going around the coffeepot looking for the handle.

She sat keenly white and still among them, a witness to everything--maybe determining nothing, possibly judging it all.

People talking without speaking,/ People listening without hearing...Sounds of Silence.

Mirrors are there when we are and yet they never give anything back to us but our own image. Never, never shall we know what they are when they are alone or what is behind them.

Polly put the kettle on, we'll all have tea.

Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee affords.

We bore ourselves in order to earn money that we'll later spend on trying to de-bore ourselves

It's always the idle habits you acquire which you will regret. Father said that. That Christ was not crucified: he was worn away by a minute clicking of little wheels. That had no sister.

There's something happening everyday, but I'm too tired and lazy to write it all down.

Silence always gives consent.

She sits in her usual ample armchair, with piles of books and unopened magazines around her. She sips cautiously from the mug of weak herb tea which is now her substitute for coffee. At one time she thought that she could not live without coffee, but it turned out that it is really the warm large mug she wants in her hands, that is the aid to thought or whatever it is she practices through the procession of hours, or of days.

By not speaking you don't get rid of the story, you just open up a silence, which can be just as loud.

Don't let it worry you, not being able to speak,'Dustfinger had often told her. 'People tend not to listen anyway, right?

silence is the most intolerable of answers.

So much in writing depends on the superficiality of one's days.

I took a vow of political celibacy.

Is it because they are so comfortable, they already know what the other is thinking? Or is it because after a certain point, there is simply nothing left to say?

Sometimes I feel that every word spoken and every gesture made merely serve to exacerbate misunderstandings. Then what I would really like is to escape into a great silence and impose that silence on everyone else.

It's terrible to allow conventional habits to gain a hold on a whole household; to eat, sleep and live by clock ticks.

I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.