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  • #1
    Fyodor Dostoevsky
    “You sensed that you should be following a different path, a more ambitious one, you felt that you were destined for other things but you had no idea how to achieve them and in your misery you began to hate everything around you.”
    Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Netochka Nezvanova

  • #2
    Franz Kafka
    “I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person.”
    Franz Kafka

  • #3
    Neil Gaiman
    “All around me darkness gathers,
    Fading is the sun that shone,
    We must speak of other matters,
    You can be me when I'm gone

    Flowers gathered in the morning,
    Afternoon they blossom on,
    Still are withered in the evening,
    You can be me when I'm gone.”
    Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones

  • #4
    Fyodor Dostoevsky
    “It is clear to me now that, owing to my unbounded vanity and to the high standard I set for myself, I often looked at myself with furious discontent, which verged on loathing, and so I inwardly attributed the same feeling to everyone.”
    Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Notes from Underground

  • #5
    Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
    “I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”
    Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

  • #6
    Robert W. Chambers
    “I cannot forget Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men's thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the lake of Hali; and my mind will bear for ever the memory of the Pallid Mask.”
    Robert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow

  • #7
    Robert W. Chambers
    “The ambition of Caesar and of Napoleon pales before that which could not rest until it had seized the minds of men and controlled even their unborn thoughts,”
    Robert W. Chambers, The King in Yellow

  • #8
    “The bird that plucks its own feathers
    cannot blame the wind for its chill.

    The tree that bends willingly
    cannot fault the storm for its sway.

    The flame that softens to the dark
    cannot accuse the night of its fading.

    The stone that erodes with its own weight
    cannot lament the gradual loss.”
    Monika Ajay Kaul



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