“I felt the taste of mortality in my mouth, and at that moment I understood that I was not going to live forever. It takes a long time to learn that, but when you finally do, everything changes inside you, you can never be the same again. I was seventeen years old, and all of a sudden, without the slightest flicker of a doubt, I understood that my life was my own, that it belonged to me and no one else.I’m talking about freedom, Fogg. A sense of despair that becomes so great, so crushing, so catastrophic, that you have no choice but to be liberated by it. That’s the only choice, or else you crawl into a corner and die.”
In this powerful quotation, Paul Auster encapsulates a profound moment of self-awareness and existential realization that many individuals experience at some point in their lives. The passage illustrates the complex interplay between mortality, freedom, and the burden of existence.
Auster begins with the visceral phrase “I felt the taste of mortality in my mouth,” which vividly conveys an immediate and tangible confrontation with death. This metaphor serves to establish the urgency and significance of the moment, suggesting that mortality is not a distant concept but an intimate reality that compels reflection. The realization that he will not live forever is a pivotal turning point, marking a shift from childhood innocence to a more sobering understanding of life’s impermanence.
The statement highlights the transformative nature of this realization: “everything changes inside you.” It suggests that the acknowledgment of mortality is not merely an intellectual exercise, but a deeply emotional and psychological awakening. Auster notes that this understanding brings about a profound change in the individual—one that alters their view of life and self entirely.
The concept of ownership over one’s life emerges as a central theme when he asserts, “my life was my own.” This autonomy introduces a sense of personal responsibility and liberation. It underlines the notion that understanding one’s mortality can lead to a deeper appreciation of life itself, as individuals begin to live with intention and authenticity.
Furthermore, Auster introduces a paradox of despair and liberation: “a sense of despair that becomes so great… that you have no choice but to be liberated by it.” This juxtaposition suggests that the weight of despair can act as a catalyst for profound personal freedom. Instead of succumbing to the fear of death, one can choose to embrace life fully. The alternative—“crawl into a corner and die”—is a stark reminder of the choice that lies before us: to live meaningfully despite the inevitable end.
In summary, Paul Auster’s reflections invite contemplation on the nature of mortality and its significant influence on the human experience. The passage illuminates the journey from despair to liberation, emphasizing that an awareness of mortality can ultimately foster a life that is richer, more genuine, and profoundly one’s own.
“Everything had changed for me, and words that I had never understood before suddenly began to make sense. This came as revelation, and when I finally had time to absorb it, I wondered how I had managed to live so long without learning this simple thing. I am not talking about desire so much as knowledge, the discovery that two people, through desire, can create a thing more powerful than either of them can create alone.”
“I was in the book, and the book was in my head, and as long as I stayed inside my head, I could go on writing the book. It was like living in a padded cell, but of all the lives I could have lived at that moment, it was the only one that made sense to me. I wasn't capable of being in the world, and I knew that if I tried to go back into it before I was ready, I would be crushed.”
“It was one of the most sublimely exhilarating moments of my life. I was half a step in front of the real, an inch or two beyond the confines of my body, and when the thing happened just as I thought it would, I felt my skin had become transparent. I wasn't occupying space anymore so much as melting into it. What was around me was also inside me, and I had only to look into myself in order to see the world.”
“Each book is a new book. I’ve never written it before and I have to teach myself how to write it as I go along. The fact that I’ve written books in the past seems to play no part in it. I always feel like a beginner and I’m continually running into the same difficulties, the same blocks, the same despairs. You make so many mistakes as a writer, cross out so many bad sentences and ideas, discard so many worthless pages, that finally what you learn is how stupid you are. It’s a humbling occupation.”
“So weak, so little left, time running out. I will be robbed of my old age. I try not to feel bitter about it, but sometimes I can't help myself. Life is shit, I know, but the only thing I want is more life, more years on this godforsaken earth.”
“When you've lived as long as I have, you tend to think you've heardeverything, that there's nothing left that can shock you anymore.You grow a little complacent about your so-called knowledge of the world, and then, every once in a while, something comes along thatjolts you out of your smug cocoon of superiority, that reminds you allover again that you don't understand the first thing about life.”