“What are they like, writers, in your mind: it may seem strange, but initially it’s not about writing. A writer is someone who struggles with the angels of solitude and truth. A confused struggle, without any clear conclusion.” — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“ This morning, on the avenue, my death was walking next to me, under the plane-trees. I came back home, lied on the bed.… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“Nothing is owed to us in life, not even the innocence of a blue sky. Great art is the art of thankfulness for the… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“You can tell who your friends are because they don’t prevent you from being on your own, because they illuminate your solitude without interrupting… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“Life in society is when everyone is there and no one is present. Life in society is when everyone obeys what no one wants.… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“baraye bayane eshgh hamvare niyazi be vazhe haye asheghane nist , balke ziro bam o ashk o labkhand lazem ast. "Christian Bobin” — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“It is as if the angels had just done their laundry and, owning no other wealth than love, they are always clothed in the… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“A writer is anyone who follows only the truth of who they are, without ever relying on anything other than the poverty and solitude… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“The word is a perishable, ephemeral commodity. It takes on the color of the circumstances in which it is used.” — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“A few stars were approaching and in their brightness I glimpsed a fragment of your vanished soul – cheerful and frivolous, unforgettable.” — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
“In such blue beauty you sense the darkness into which the light will soon fall, and in this conjugal life of blue and black… — Christian Bobin Copy Share Image
