Eugene ONeill Quotes (23 Quotes)


    It was a great mistake, my being born a man, I would have been much more successful as a seagull or a fish. As it is, I will always be a stranger who never feels at home, who does not really want and is not really wanted, who can never belong, who must be a little in love with death!

    None of us can help the things life has done to us. They're done before you realize it, and once they're done they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you'd like to be, and you've lost your true self forever.





    He thinks money spent on a home is money wasted. He's lived too much in hotels. Never the best hotels, of course. Second-rate hotels. He doesn't understand a home. He doesn't feel at home in it. And yet, he wants a home. He's even proud of having this shabby place. He loves it here.

    Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.

    Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back


    Critics I love every bone in their heads.

    The child was diseased at birth - stricken with an hereditary ill that only the most vital men are able to shake off. I mean poverty - the most deadly and prevalent of all diseases.


    Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.

    The old like children talk to themselves, for they have reached that hopeless wisdom of experience which knows that though one were to cry it in the streets to multitudes, or whisper it in the kiss to one's beloved, the only ears that can ever hear one's secrets are one's own

    One should either be sad or joyful. Contentment is a warm sty for eaters and sleepers.

    When you're 50 you start thinking about things you haven't thought about before. I used to think getting old was about vanity - but actually it's about losing people you love. Getting wrinkles is trivial.

    There is no present or future, only the past, happening over and over again, now.

    Her love and tenderness gave me the faith in love that enabled me to face my dead at last and write this play-write it with deep pity and understanding and forgiveness for all the four haunted Tyrones.

    Obsessed by a fairy tale, we spend our lives searching for a magic door and a lost kingdom of peace.

    Happiness hates the timid So does science.


    Life is a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors.

    If a person is to get the meaning of life he must learn to like the facts about himself -- ugly as they may seem to his sentimental vanity -- before he can learn the truth behind the facts. And the truth is never ugly.


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