Marcel Proust Quotes

A few years ago it dawned on me that everybody past a certain age ... pretty much constantly dreams of being able to escape from their lives. They don't want to be who they are any more. They want out. This list includes Thurston Howell the Third, Ann-Margret, the cat members of Rent, Václav Havel, space shuttle astronauts and Snuffleupagus. It's universal.

In other words: It seems to me that I will always be happy in the place where I am not. Or, more bluntly: Wherever I am not is the place where I am myself. Or else, taking the bull by the horns: Anywhere out of the world.

The discontented believe that their regrets are about the past.

Where ever I am I always find myself looking out the window wishing I was somewhere else.

The worst feeling in the world is the homesickness that comes over a man occasionally when he is at home.

I'd never been content in America.

I lived and languished.

Such is the state of life, that none are happy but by the anticipation of change: the change itself is nothing; when we have made it, the next wish is to change again.

Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there's time, the Bastard Time.

Unhappy is a nice word.

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

I've always had this deep and chronic sense of dissatisfaction.

Music breaks my heart constantly.

Boredom is rage spread thin.

It doesn't matter what I'm doing - I wish it was something else. If I'm producing, I wish I was directing. If I'm directing, I wish I was doing almost anything else!

So much of my intention with songs is to voice a continual dissatisfaction, or at least to claw my way out of it.

There are times when you wish you were somewhere else, and someone else.

I never want to be satisfied.

A lot of my songs are about loneliness and losing relationships. Even the ones that are happy, there's a lonely undertone to them.

I'm here to be lovesick, broke and drifting, writing heartache songs and singing about pain and misery and depression, with a few good times here and there.

That's the thing with me: I'm never satisfied.

All the best songs have an element of sadness.

There's always this thing of wanting to be elsewhere.

Was there another life she was meant to be living? At times she felt a keen certainty that there was ― a phantom life, taunting her from just out of reach. A sense would come over her while she was drawing or walking, and once while she was dancing slow and close with Kaz, that she was supposed to be doing something else with her hands, with her legs, with her body. Something else. Something else. Something else.

Ay me! sad hours seem long.