(1915–1980)
French literary theorist, philosopher, and critic
Roland Barthes
Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering.
Entry dated July 18, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 162.
A cold winter night. I’m warm enough, yet I’m alone. And I realize that I’ll have to get used to existing quite naturally within this solitude, functioning there, working there, accompanied by, fastened to the “presence of absence.”
Entry dated November 28, 1977, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 69.
My overcoat is so dreary that I know maman would never have tolerated the black or gray scarf I always wear with it, and I keep hearing her voice telling me to wear a little color.
For the first time, then, I decide to wear a colored scarf (Scotch plaid).
Entry dated March 6, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 99.
The profound modesty she had—that made her possess, not no belongings at all (no asceticism), but very few belongings—as if she wanted, at her death, that there would be no “getting rid of” what had belonged to her.
Entry dated October 3, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 201.
Exploration of my (apparently vital) need of solitude: and yet I have a (no less vital) need of my friends.
I must therefore: 1) force myself to “call” them from time to time, find the energy to do so, combat my—telephonic (among other kinds)—apathy; 2) ask them to understand that above all they must let me call them. If they less often, less systematically, got in touch with me, that would mean for me that I must get in touch with them.
Entry dated August 3, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 181.
Disappointment of various places and trips. Not really comfortable anywhere. Very soon, this cry: I want to go back! (but where? since she is no longer anywhere, who was once where I could go back). I am seeking my place. Sitio.
Entry dated August 1, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 176.
Everything began all over again immediately: arrival of manuscripts, requests, people’s stories, each person mercilessly pushing ahead his own little demand (for love, for gratitude): no sooner has she departed than the world deafens me with its continuance.
Entry dated June 15, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 146.
I have not a desire but a need for solitude.
Entry dated January 22, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 91.
Everyone is “extremely nice”—and yet I feel entirely alone. (“Abandonitis”).
Entry dated January 8, 1978, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 86.
Does being able to live without someone you loved mean you loved her less than you thought…?
Entry dated November 28, 1977, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 68.
Solitude = having no one at home to whom you can say: I’ll be back at a specific time or who you can call to say (or to whom you can just say): voilà, I’m home now.
Entry dated November 11, 1977, in Mourning Diary, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 2010), 44.