Sara > Sara's Quotes

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  • #1
    Ayn Rand
    “Have you felt it too? Have you seen how your best friends love everything about you- except the things that count? And your most important is nothing to them; nothing, not even a sound they can recognize.”
    Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

  • #2
    John Green
    “Thomas Edison's last words were "It's very beautiful over there". I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful.”
    John Green, Looking for Alaska

  • #3
    John Green
    “What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.”
    John Green, Paper Towns

  • #4
    Alan Moore
    “Stood in firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in night.

    Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever and we are alone. Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Devise reason later. Born from oblivion; bear children, hell-bound as ourselves, go into oblivion. There is nothing else.

    Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It’s us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.

    Was Rorschach.

    Does that answer your Questions, Doctor?”
    Alan Moore, Watchmen

  • #5
    Alan Moore
    “If you wear black, then kindly, irritating strangers will touch your arm consolingly and inform you that the world keeps on turning.

    They're right. It does.

    However much you beg it to stop.

    It turns and lets grenadine spill over the horizon, sends hard bars of gold through my window and I wake up and feel happy for three seconds and then I remember.

    It turns and tips people out of their beds and into their cars, their offices, an avalanche of tiny men and women tumbling through life...

    All trying not to think about what's waiting at the bottom.

    Sometimes it turns and sends us reeling into each other's arms. We cling tight, excited and laughing, strangers thrown together on a moving funhouse floor.

    Intoxicated by the motion we forget all the risks.

    And then the world turns...

    And somebody falls off...

    And oh God it's such a long way down.

    Numb with shock, we can only stand and watch as they fall away from us, gradually getting smaller...

    Receding in our memories until they're no longer visible.

    We gather in cemeteries, tense and silent as if for listening for the impact; the splash of a pebble dropped into a dark well, trying to measure its depth.

    Trying to measure how far we have to fall.

    No impact comes; no splash. The moment passes. The world turns and we turn away, getting on with our lives...

    Wrapping ourselves in comforting banalities to keep us warm against the cold.

    "Time's a great healer."

    "At least it was quick."

    "The world keeps turning."

    Oh Alec—

    Alec's dead.”
    Alan Moore, Swamp Thing, Vol. 5: Earth to Earth

  • #6
    Philip Pullman
    “We don’t need a list of rights and wrongs, tables of dos and don’ts: we need books, time, and silence. Thou shalt not is soon forgotten, but Once upon a time lasts forever.”
    Philip Pullman

  • #7
    Paul Madonna
    “I don’t get superheroes,” she says,
    “if you could see through everything
    you’d see nothing at all.”
    Paul Madonna

  • #8
    Stephen Chbosky
    “I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

  • #9
    Peter S. Beagle
    “The magician stood erect, menacing the attackers with demons, metamorphoses, paralyzing ailments, and secret judo holds. Molly picked up a rock.”
    Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

  • #10
    Peter S. Beagle
    “Where have you been?" she cried. "Damn you, where have you been?" She took a few steps toward Schmendrick, but she was looking beyond him, at the unicorn.

    When she tried to get by, the magician stood in her way. "You don't talk like that," he told her, still uncertain that Molly had recognized the unicorn. "Don't you know how to behave, woman? You don't curtsy, either."

    But Molly pushed him aside and went up to the unicorn, scolding her as though she were a strayed milk cow. "Where have you been?" Before the whiteness and the shining horn, Molly shrank to a shrilling beetle, but this time it was the unicorn's old dark eyes that looked down.

    "I am here now," she said at last.

    Molly laughed with her lips flat. "And what good is it to me that you're here now? Where where you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?" With a flap of her hand she summed herself up: barren face, desert eyes, and yellowing heart. "I wish you had never come. Why did you come now?" The tears began to slide down the sides of her nose.

    The unicorn made no reply, and Schmendrick said, "She is the last. She is the last unicorn in the world."

    "She would be." Molly sniffed. "It would be the last unicorn in the world to come to Molly Grue." She reached up then to lay her hand on the unicorn's cheek; but both of them flinched a little, and the touch came to rest on on the swift, shivering place under the jaw. Molly said, "It's all right. I forgive you.”
    Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

  • #11
    Daniel Handler
    “I hadn't felt such disgust for a boy since the early days, when they'd tease girls on the playground, kicking us and throwing gravel and raising their voices in high screechy mockery. "They do that because they like you," all the adults said, grinning like pumpkins. We believed them, back then. Back then we thought it was true, and we were drawn toward all that meanness because it meant we were special, let them kick us, let them like us. We liked them back. But now it was turning out that our first instincts were right. Boys weren't mean because they liked you; it was because they were mean.”
    Daniel Handler, The Basic Eight

  • #12
    Joseph Campbell
    The Hero Path

    We have not even to risk the adventure alone
    for the heroes of all time have gone before us.
    The labyrinth is thoroughly known ...
    we have only to follow the thread of the hero path.
    And where we had thought to find an abomination
    we shall find a God.

    And where we had thought to slay another
    we shall slay ourselves.
    Where we had thought to travel outwards
    we shall come to the center of our own existence.
    And where we had thought to be alone
    we shall be with all the world.”
    Joseph Campbell

  • #13
    James Joyce
    “I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”
    James Joyce, Ulysses

  • #14
    James Joyce
    “Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.”
    James Joyce, Ulysses

  • #15
    Jerry Spinelli
    “She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.”
    Jerry Spinelli, Stargirl

  • #16
    Jerry Spinelli
    “He stared at me. "She liked you, boy." The intensity of his voice and eyes made me blink.
    "Yes," I said.
    "She did it for you, you know."
    "What?"
    "Gave up her self, for a while there. She loved you that much. What an incredibly lucky kid you were."
    I could not look at him. "I know."
    He shook his head with a wistful sadness. "No, you don't. You can't know yet. Maybe someday..."
    I knew he was tempted to say more. Probably to tell me how stupid I was, how cowardly, that I blew the best
    chance I would ever have. But his smile returned, and his eyes were tender again, and nothing harsher
    than cherry smoke came out of his mouth.”
    Jerry Spinelli, Stargirl

  • #17
    Emil M. Cioran
    “A book is a suicide postponed.”
    Emil M. Cioran

  • #18
    Elizabeth Wurtzel
    “I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.”
    Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

  • #19
    Elizabeth Wurtzel
    “That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end.”
    Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

  • #20
    Elizabeth Wurtzel
    “I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible...”
    Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

  • #21
    J.R.R. Tolkien
    “Still round the corner there may wait
    A new road or a secret gate
    And though I oft have passed them by
    A day will come at last when I
    Shall take the hidden paths that run
    West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”
    J.R.R. Tolkien

  • #22
    F. Scott Fitzgerald
    “He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy. His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was ....”
    F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

  • #23
    David Foster Wallace
    “The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”
    David Foster Wallace

  • #24
    F. Scott Fitzgerald
    “They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered. They both seemed to have arrived there with an extraordinary innocence as though a series of pure accidents had driven them together, so many accidents that at last they were forced to conclude that they were for each other. They had arrived with clean hands, or so it seemed, after no traffic with the merely curious and clandestine.”
    F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night
    tags: love

  • #25
    F. Scott Fitzgerald
    “You will walk differently alone, dear, through a thicker atmosphere, forcing your way through the shadows of chairs, through the dripping smoke of the funnels. You will feel your own reflection sliding along the eyes of those who look at you. You are no longer insulated; but I suppose you must touch life in order to spring from it.”
    F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

  • #26
    F. Scott Fitzgerald
    “He cared only about people; he was scarcely conscious of places except for their weather, until they had been invested with color by tangible events.”
    F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

  • #27
    David Mitchell
    “People pontificate, "Suicide is selfishness." Career churchmen like Pater go a step further and call in a cowardly assault on the living. Oafs argue this specious line for varying reason: to evade fingers of blame, to impress one's audience with one's mental fiber, to vent anger, or just because one lacks the necessary suffering to sympathize. Cowardice is nothing to do with it - suicide takes considerable courage. Japanese have the right idea. No, what's selfish is to demand another to endure an intolerable existence, just to spare families, friends, and enemies a bit of soul-searching.”
    David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

  • #28
    Daniel Handler
    “Ed, it was everything, those nights on the phone, everything we said until late became later and then later and very late and finally to go to bed with my ear warm and worn and red from holding the phone close close close so as not to miss a word of what it was, because who cared how tired I was in the humdrum slave drive of our days without each other. I’d ruin any day, all my days, for those long nights with you, and I did. But that’s why right there it was doomed. We couldn’t only have the magic nights buzzing through the wires. We had to have the days, too, the bright impatient days spoiling everything with their unavoidable schedules, their mandatory times that don’t overlap, their loyal friends who don’t get along, the unforgiven travesties torn from the wall no matter what promises are uttered past midnight, and that's why we broke up.”
    Daniel Handler, Why We Broke Up

  • #29
    David Foster Wallace
    “From that day, whether I could articulate it satisfactorily or not,' Day says, holding the knee of the leg just crossed, 'I understood on an intuitive level why people killed themselves. If I had to go for any length of time with that feeling I'd surely kill myself.'

    'Time in the shadow of the wing of the thing too big to see, rising.”
    David Foster Wallace

  • #30
    Charles Bukowski
    “How in the hell could a man enjoy being awakened at 8:30 a.m. by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so? ”
    Charles Bukowski, Factotum



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