Famous Quotes Ipsum

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. the individual is born of nature, but the artist is born of that individual, yearning to transcend the merely "natural" and to make complete that which, existentially, is forever incomplete, unrealized. thou shalt not be a victim. thou shalt not be a perpetrator. above all, thou shalt not be a bystander. saturday found him for the first time strolling alone through zurich, breathing in the heady smell of his freedom. new adventures hid around each corner. the future was again a secret. do not follow where the path may lead. go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. the blood jet is poetry, there is no stopping it. 'when i was a kid,' said irie softly, ringing the bell for their stop, 'i used to think they were little alibis. bus tickets. i mean, look: they've got the time. the date. the place. and if i was up in court, and i had to defend myself, and prove i wasn't where they said i was, doing what they said i did, when they said i did it, i'd pull out one of those.' the robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief. it is not the answer that enlightens, but the question. that's the way things come clear. all of a sudden. and then you realize how obvious they've been all along. when the morning's freshness has been replaced by the weariness of midday, when the leg muscles give under the strain, the climb seems endless, and suddenly nothing will go quite as you wish - it is then that you must not hesitate. from my rotting body, flowers shall grow and i am in them and that is eternity. the realization that he was utterly powerless was like the blow of a sledgehammer, yet it was curiously as well. no one was forcing him into a decision. the choice may have been mistaken - the choosing was not. bush thinks he is still living in the age of cowboys, and that the world is like texas with himself as sheriff. these things seem small and indistinguishable, like far-off mountains turned into clouds. one of the earliest lessons i learned as a child was that if you looked away from something, it might not be there when you looked back. the sky was that deep sunday blue going black, just on the cusp of color seeping into empty space. i preach there are all kinds of truths, your truth and somebody else's. but behind all of them there is only one truth and that is that there's no truth. the things we forget may as well never have happened, but she had many memories, both real and illusory, and that was like living twice. she used to tell her faithful friend, the sage tao chi'en, that her memory was like the hold of the ship where they had come to know one another: vast and somber, bursting with boxes, barrels, and sacks in which all of the events of her life were jammed. awake it was difficult to find anything in that chaotic clutter, but asleep she could, just as mama fresia had taught her in the gentle nights of her childhood, when the contours of reality were as faint as a tracery of pale ink. she entered the place of her dreams along a much traveled path and returned treading very carefully in order not to shatter the tenuous visions against the harsh light of consciousness. she put as much store in that process as others put in numbers, and she so refined the art of remembering that she could see miss rose bent over the crate of marseilles soap that was her first cradle. to love another person is to see the face of god. a pain stabbed my heart as it did every time i saw a girl i loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world. are there not chapters in everybody's life that seem to be nothing, and yet affect all the rest of history?.

One can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar. don't cry over anyone who won't cry over you. everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. the way i see it, the men that i'm with, whoever they are, it's like look, you have to accept that i like ice cream, and i know it shows up on my hips but if you can't accept that, then leave. go away. toodles. it is non-negotiable. to read a writer, for me, is not merely to get an idea of what he says, but to go off with him and travel in his company. power consists.... in deciding which stories will be told. never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow. if i can stop one heart from breaking, i will not live in vain. there are absolute things in the world but you must look deeply for them. the things that first present themselves to your notice are for the most part relative. the only way to discover the limits of the possible is to go beyond them into the impossible my piano is a universe. those eighty-eight keys arrange the seven planets in musical scales, an aural cosmos. footfalls echo in the memory / down the passage we did not take / towards the door we never opened / into the rose garden you'll remember me like a melody / yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you to live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else. life moves pretty fast. if you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it. the unexamined life is not worth living. the human soul is very much older than the human mind..

I always give myself such very good advice, but i very seldom follow it. all good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath. this is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. for tomorrow may rain, so i'll follow the sun. religion is what the individual does with his own solitariness. the happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions. the whole business is built on ego, vanity, self-satisfaction, and it's total crap to pretend it's not. in memory, everything seems to happen to music..