Henry Miller
Henry Miller
Henry Valentine Millerwas an American writer. He was known for breaking with existing literary forms, developing a new sort of semi-autobiographical novel that blended character study, social criticism, philosophical reflection, explicit language, sex, surrealist free association and mysticism. His most characteristic works of this kind are Tropic of Cancer, Black Spring, Tropic of Capricornand The Rosy Crucifixion trilogy, all of which are based on his experiences in New York and Paris, and all of which were banned in the United...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAutobiographer
Date of Birth26 December 1891
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.
By choosing to live above the ordinary level we create extraordinary problems for ourselves.
Words are loneliness.
Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end.
Life, as it is called, is for most of us one long postponement.
We should read to give our souls a chance to luxuriate.
Art teaches nothing, except the significance of life.
Of course you don't die. Nobody dies. Death doesn't exist. You only reach a new level of vision, a new realm of consciousness, a new unknown world.
I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.
There's something perverse about women...they're all masochists at heart.
I couldn't allow myself to think about her very long; if I had I would have jumped off the bridge. It's strange. I had become so reconciled to this life without her, and yet if I thought about her only for a minute it was enough to pierce the bone and marrow of my contentment and shove me back again into the agonizing gutter of my wretched past.
Certainly paradise, whatever, wherever it be, contains flaws. (Paradisical flaws, if you like.) If it did not, it would be incapable of drawing the hearts of men or angels.
I have found God, but he is insufficient.
Madness is tonic and invigorating. It makes the sane more sane. The only ones who are unable to profit by it are the insane.