#Sara Baume
Quotes about sara-baume
Sara Baume is a name that resonates with the essence of introspection and the beauty of the mundane. Her work often delves into themes of solitude, resilience, and the quiet strength found in everyday life. The tag "sara-baume" represents a deep dive into the human condition, exploring the intricate tapestry of emotions that define our existence. People are drawn to quotes about this topic because they offer a mirror to our own lives, reflecting the subtle nuances of our personal journeys. Baume's writing captures the delicate balance between despair and hope, inviting readers to find solace in the shared experience of vulnerability and growth. Her words often serve as a gentle reminder that there is profound beauty in the ordinary, and that even in solitude, we are never truly alone. This exploration of the human spirit, with its raw honesty and poetic grace, is what makes quotes about Sara Baume's themes so compelling and universally relatable. Whether seeking comfort, inspiration, or a deeper understanding of oneself, these quotes provide a sanctuary for reflection and connection.
Blending into the tinctures and textures of the countryside. The tree which falls without any human hearing still falls, as the creatures who die without being found by a human still die.
My phone doesn't ring and the doorbell doesn't either and I begin to wonder whether I am still alive.
But now I am beginning to understand we all become tyrants beneath our own roof slates. Or maybe we don't; maybe it's just my father and me—the tyrannical gene I inherited from him.
We rarely saw each other outside the walls of the gallery, but inside its glaring white spaces, to exorcise the tedium of the tasks we shared, Ben and I often ended up talking, and time and time again, he would say things that resonated so powerfully with my uneasiness about life, and back there and then, I believed it was an uneasiness unique to us, and that we were somehow bound by it.
The worse things get, the more onerous they are to put right again. But this applies to every aspect of life.
It makes me wonder if living under tragic circumstances inflects a person's sentences, irresistibly, with poetry.
I can't remember the name of the piece, or the artist. Maybe it wasn't even an artwork. Why must I automatically assume that every strange object is a sculpture, that every public display of unorthodox behavior is an act of performance.