Peter Sellers Quotes

Is there really nothing, nothing left of me?

She is overtaken by a sensation of unbeing. There is no other word for it.

Today I suddenly experienced an absurd but quite valid sensation. I realized, in an intimate lightning flash, that I am no one. No one, absolutely no one.

An individual in despair despairs over something. . . . In despairing over something, he really despair[s] over himself, and now he wants to get rid of himself. Consequently, to despair over something is still not despair proper. . . . To despair over oneself, in despair to will to be rid of oneself-this is the formula for all despair.

Self-expression is a hard and selfish thing. It eats everything, even the self. At the end you find you haven't even got a self to express.

How can I dispose of myself with it?

Meaninglessness takes hold because meaninglessness is addictive.

I stopped and I thought, 'What would Jesus do?' So I didn't exist.

The worst death for anyone is to lose the center of his being, the thing he really is. Retirement is the filthiest word in the language. Whether by choice or by fate, to retire from what you do - and makes you what you are - is to back up into the grave.

When did I stop being me?

If there is any human tragedy, there is only one, and it occurs when we forget who we are and remain silent while a stranger takes up residence inside our skin.

Such a human waste, your eyes without a face.

Pero yo ya no soy yo Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. But now I am no longer I, nor is my house any longer my house.

Oh, for the time when I shall sleep Without identity.

Americans love to pick up, move on, start over. But instead of being somebody fresh and new, they become somebody lonely and lost, or, far too often these days, they become nobody at all, a machine for satisfying hunger, without loyalty or honor or duty.

She had for so many years been trying to be like other people, that she was now like nothing in heaven or earth.

The only person I knew how to be with now was myself - but I wasn´t really anyone, and I wasn´t really alive. I was just someone who pretended to be alive, a dead mean who spent his days translating a dead man´s book.

I was not I, I was nothing - and that seemed to me quite marvelous.

I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.

What do you do when your entire identity is destroyed in an instant? How do you cope when your whole life story turns out to bw wrong?

Would you rather die, or be unwound?

I was created to fulfill a function and I failed in it. I negated my own existence.

The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss - an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc. - is sure to be noticed.

I almost do not exist now and I know it; God knows what lives in me in place of me.

I’ve killed myself so many times, I don’t even exist anymore.