“You want to know everything? Look at yourself. You discover a truth and can barely function.”
― Anya Allyn, Dollhouse

“Philomena spun a tale about a butterfly that turned back into a caterpillar—saying that the butterfly would rather live in the cocoon for years than fly under the sun for only a few short days.
“Butterflies don’t last,” said Philomena solemnly.”
― Anya Allyn, Dollhouse

“Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought?... Has it ever occurred to your, Winston, that by the year 2050, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?... The whole climate of thought will be different. In fact, there will be no thought, as we understand it now. Orthodoxy means not thinking-not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.”
― George Orwell, 1984

“If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

“I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of the little god, four cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Collected Poems

“Philomena spun a tale about a butterfly that turned back into a caterpillar—saying that the butterfly would rather live in the cocoon for years than fly under the sun for only a few short days.
“Butterflies don’t last,” said Philomena solemnly.”
― Anya Allyn, Dollhouse