If a victory is told in detail, one can no longer distinguish it from a defeat.
Jean-Paul SartreRead
Man is nothing else but what he purposes, he exists only in so far as he realizes himself, he is therefore nothing else but the sum of his actions, nothing else but what his life is.
Interpretation
This quote emphasizes that a person's essence is defined by their intentions and actions.
Jean-Paul Sartre’s quote reflects his existentialist philosophy, which asserts that individuals define themselves through their choices and actions. According to Sartre, a person does not possess inherent qualities beyond those they create through purposeful activities; thus, our identity and existence are determined by how we choose to act and realize our potential in life.
In practice
In a discussion about the meaning of life, one might say, 'As Sartre put it, man is nothing else but what he purposes.'
If a victory is told in detail, one can no longer distinguish it from a defeat.
All I want is' - and he uttered the final words through clenched teeth and with a sort of shame - 'to retain my freedom.' I should myself have thought,' said Jacques, 'that freedom consisted in frankly confronting situations into which one had deliberately entered, and accepting all one's responsibilities. But that, no doubt, is not your view.
If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company.
A kiss without a moustache, they said then, is like an egg without salt; I will add to it: and it is like Good without Evil.
I wanted pure love: foolishness; to love one another is to hate a common enemy: I will thus espouse your hatred. I wanted Good: nonsense; on this earth and in these times, Good and Bad are inseparable: I accept to be evil in order to become good.
Night is falling: at dusk, you must have good eyesight to be able to tell the Good Lord from the Devil.
A well-instructed people alone can be permanently a free people.
For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?
There's nothing harder than defining oneself.
Wherever the European has trod, death seems to pursue the aboriginal.
Every bird which flies has the thread of the infinite in its claw.
It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.
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