Henry Martin Quotes

Silence-people are afraid of it-they feel the need to make small talk, anything, just to break the stillness. I don't feel any such need. To me, silence brings about peace and certitude.

— Henry Martin

“Perhaps, some day, humanity can start afresh, a new world, a tabula rasa, a world with a mind without prior experiences. No memories and no pain. A day when the ones with abundance do not look down at the poor and the needy, a day when we learn to care for the victims, the fallen souls of civilization and advancement, a day when the world will be pure. When all of humanity becomes a clean sheet of parchment, without knowledge and prejudice, simple, hungry for knowing, tasting, and feeling; hungry for life and ready to absorb the ink of experience.”

— Henry Martin

“Time plays no role in the life of one man-the subtle consciousness of it floating past me is more than enough. Years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds-what does it matter? Floating by, it rubs against my skin, face, and hair-wearing me down, yet polishing me all the while. Time is like fine grains of sand in a desert storm. At first, you don't pay any attention to it, but the more it hits you in the face, the more aware of it you become, the more annoying it gets until, one day, you find yourself suffocating. The weight of it eventually bends your spine, until you are crawling on your hands and knees, unable to stand straight. Then comes the time to crawl back into the womb, crawl inside and wait for rebirth.”

— Henry Martin

“The train station-busy, swarming with people, luggage, porters, taxi drivers and limousine chauffeurs-a giant honeycomb, with worker bees flying in and out, carrying the trash, which covers the entire floor, in and out of the building. Only the honey has been consumed by the selected few, and nothing but the mucus remains. The line-a monstrous larva-the line stretches from the information window and extends almost out of the door. A human worm-hundreds of legs and hands, twisting and breathing disease. What was I thinking? This is just a city like any other, a city with its inhabitants, always busy, from the morning until the nighttime, always itching for a fight, always ready to chew me up and spit me out. A stripped and ragged bone, tossed aside when I can no longer feed its hungry belly. The belly of a beast-a human beast-merciless, yet placatory on the surface. I light a cigarette, spit on the floor, and walk towards the daylight.”

— Henry Martin

“Without children, there is no careless play; the laughter has died. Only the gruesome reality of the day is left, an unchanging reality knowing no miracles, no breaks, no dreams.”

— Henry Martin

“When I wake, the sun is just climbing above the clouds, beginning its daily journey. A never-ending journey, one that will continue long after humanity is extinct. For ages it has shone its light over wars and miseries, piercing through the deepest darkness, and yet never able to penetrate the human heart and fill it with its light.”

— Henry Martin

“We lie on the blanket, our bare bodies basking in the sun like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Only our apples were bitten a long time ago, and we ate them too.”

— Henry Martin

It was a good day: I didn't vomit any blood and my ass is not hurting anymore.

— Henry Martin

Do we arouse our curiosity or does our
curiosity arouse us?

— Henry Martin

“One foot in Austria, the other in Italy, it's funny how man defines borders. An imaginary line is all that is needed to split continents apart, to separate men and cultures, to spark wars and injustices-a line in pencil, drawn on some agreement or a peace treaty ages ago. Insanity, it's nothing but insanity. Free movement of man, something that is and has been ingrained in our essence of being, is nothing more than an illusion. We are not free to walk where we please; we are not capable of overcoming the resistance of these imaginary lines, etching deep chasms into the face of the world.”

— Henry Martin

“In an era where Existence is incontestable, Truth is subjective, and Reality is perceived, fiction must mediate between the three.”

— Henry Martin