J.L. Haynes > J.L.'s Quotes

“Okay,” she exhales, closes her eyes and dissolves her mind to a state of emptiness. Inside her head, an instinct, a compulsion triggers her next action. “I’m ready…”
Zara slowly reaches forward, touches the Tetragrammaton with her index and middle finger, nothing at first, then an odd sensation, a feeling of divine power and knowledge. “It’s beautiful,” a surge of information overwhelms her senses—she turns her palms face up, as she does they turn transparent to reveal the constellations, “I am that which is not, born from the imperishable stars.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“Leave the train!”
More soldiers meet Fez and his loyal companion, “This way,” one shouts, “step into the circle!” Fez glances down, at a large circle scribed into the ground, and walks into the centre with Gnash skittering in behind him, at which point he addresses the soldiers.
“Did you know the philosopher Gurdjieff wrote about his encounters with the Yezidis—how he once saw a Yezidi boy distraught, struggling to break out of a circle drawn in the ground by other boys. Try as he might the boy just couldn’t step outside of the circle. The other boys teased and taunted him until Gurdjieff erased part of the circle, whereby the boy was able to escape. Perhaps the philosopher wants us to think carefully about the Yezidis—perhaps you should think carefully about me.” Out of the floor a circular glass wall made of toughened glass shoots up, stopping at a circular lip in the ceiling, trapping them like a ship in a bottle. “A prison—how quaint, never been in a prison before. When do I get my medication?” No one answers, but Fez spies a security camera in the ceiling and stares into its lens. “You think that I think you can’t hear me, but I know that you don’t know I can.”
“What’s he on about?” one of the operators asks in the control room.
“Something about us hearing him.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“When we see beauty, we’re seeing a part of ourselves, a reflection in time. Ask me the time, Zara.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s perhaps a time.”
“Perhaps a time, what kind of a time is perhaps a time?” Zara asks, somewhat curiously amused.
“The ‘that’ part, that’s the part of the kind of ‘perhaps a time’ we’re talking about.”
“What’s the ‘that’ part?”
“It’s the part found in anytime.”
“Anytime?” A confused look knits on Zara’s brow.
“Yes, ‘perhaps a time’ is ‘anytime’, but you need a place, ‘anyplace’ to find anytime.”
“Anyplace to find anytime? Do you have any idea how mad you sound?”
“Oh, it’s such a colorful thing this void of mine. It’s all sparkly, fluffy and light, twinned with the inevitability of life. Besides, I only sound mad when I’m ‘anywhere’, dear.”
“Where the hell is anywhere?” Zara asks, this time very confused.
“Sometimes it’s up, sometimes it’s down. Anywhere oh anywhere a place we sow confusion all around.”
― J.L. Haynes

“Heroes are ghosts, haunting many a life. So, be wary of the hero, oh courageous foolish soul.”
― J.L. Haynes

“A rare butterfly is born from the society that is chaotic. It was never going to exist any other way.”
― J.L. Haynes

“Lady Devanagari, with your beauty nothing can compare—not even the lotus bloom found in the outer clusters.” From behind his back, he presents one such flower to the giant automaton. With coy playfulness she waves her hand as if cooling her blushing face, having turned a Jovian red. Then, always in change, her exquisite complexion reverts to its natural sky blue...”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“I have this recurring dream, in which I die thousands of unusual ways, but the real freak-on is I always wake up, still alive in my dream. Then I really wake up! In a cold sweat, heart pounding...”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“There is a tale, you really wish to hear it?”
“Yes, we want to hear it!”
“This I’ve got to hear,” Fez says, downing another shot of green-mist. Æther tells the tale…
“It is the late nineteenth century, the last days of the Silk Road in China,” he grabs his staff and stomps it to the ground. “It was a time of great change on Terra, but the old ways still flourished—the ways of the warrior!
“Now a merchant’s caravan was making the perilous journey along the Silk Road accompanied by bodyguards, an infamous Chinese boxer and his band of brothers. Stopped in their tracks they did, on seeing from the west a strong wind picking up, a sandstorm brewing. Unseen by the travellers, high in the sky a flying saucer flew overhead—the Yún! In the distance it landed, then no sooner had it started, the sandstorm began to dissipate, as if it had never been. The sand cloud cleared to reveal a lone figure, a Grey. The Ascetic known as Oracle of the Four Winds. The one that never dies, whom for the sake of this account we shall call Lives-a-long-time.
“The story goes on to tell how Lives-a-long-time held up a hand for the caravan to stop, upon which the leader dismounted from his camel, and said to the Ascetic, ‘What is it you want demon, you dare to stop Wang-Yin?’ ‘I do!’ said Lives-a-longtime, at which Wang-Yin roared: ‘Then prepare to taste my ironpalm heavy-as-the-world!”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“The defence shall cross-examine Zara Hanson,” he beckons her forward. “Would you tell the court how long we have known each other?”
“Well…” taken aback, she ponders how best to answer, “you could say days, but then again you could say several lifetimes. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life.”
“And in this time, would you say you trust my judgement?”
Unsure where this is going, she gives a terse reply.
“I’ve no reason not to.”
“I ask that you trust my defence and do not draw any forgone conclusions.”
“Okay?” Zara nods, her brow knits together with a look of curiosity. What’s he up to?
“Zara Hanson, what is love?”
“Well, you won’t find it anywhere near these jelly-beans,” she looks at the Elb.
“Please, tell us what love is—not that which it is not.”
“What is love?” Zara raises an eyebrow and smiles, “It is something indescribable, to categorise it would do its power a disservice.”
“And yet categorise it we must.” Ansebe’s skin changes its tone, pigments diversify a hypnotic effect, influencing her emotions, “Please—what is love?”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“Wait a minute…” Zara exclaims, eyes wide open, “are you saying you witnessed Neil Armstrong’s first steps?”
“Everything is true. The Eyt were there as were the Others, watching.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“..and then the mysterious Elb appear to rearrange the very fabric of reality itself. They do not travel through the vast expanse, instead space becomes a cocoon as they weave the strings of the universe into a silken-case, only to break it open, emerging at their destination. A form of travel so inexplicable that the Eyt have not developed the conceptual awareness to even measure the basic mechanics of such phenomena.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“Have you ever understood what gives life to a body? What do you find with the dead? Body is there, it is existent to you and to your senses, alas the individual you knew is not there, and yet there is no change in the atoms which make up a living or a dead body.”
“I’ve seen my share of dead bodies.”
“Ahh, but did you? There is more to a body than the shell that we occupy—maybe we exist because we are simply telling ourselves that we do.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“One morning, a young Taoist priest named Silent Thunder Ghost ran up mount Mianshan to see a Taoist Immortal. The trail was long and arduous, and along the way many perilous paths were obscured by the morning mists. Arriving at the mountain peak he found the one called He Who Hides in Clouds, trying to balance a twisted, gnarly wooden staff on top of his finger. 'Dry me a wooden mountain…' said the Immortal who then threw his staff at least a mile high into the sky, whereupon the sun seemingly appeared from nowhere sending golden beams of sunlight onto his face. 'If it was me, and that was my go at life, I don’t think I’d want to do it again,' he said laughing, then he looked at his visitor. 'You are here to tell me you are making progress no doubt, have you found the Tao?'
Unable to conceal his excitement Silent Thunder Ghost replied, 'I am no longer blind. I know the Tao and its ten thousand gifts. I live, I breathe, I see, I am life, I am the mountains, the morning dew on the trees, the moonlight reflecting in the lake, the starlight in my eyes, all these things are mine. My awareness is within me but reaches out to the furthest reaches of space.'
As soon as he said this the gnarly old staff fell back to Earth, whereupon He Who Hides in Clouds caught it deftly with one hand and went on to press the tip against Silent Thunder Ghost’s chest. The Immortal said, 'All things are yours except your heart… the Tao keeps that part all to itself.' And then he vanished quite slowly and as he disappeared Silent Thunder Ghost was left holding the gnarly old staff, wondering if the conversation had ever really happened at all.”
― J.L. Haynes

“Perhaps it’s fate,” Zara says, supping tonic-water from a beaker, “I just had the weirdest dream, but it seemed so real.”
“A dream?” Æther asks curiously, as he gives her more water, “Take your time.”
“It was vivid, so real,” she raises her eyebrows, “I was lost in it. It was like parts of me were scattered all over time itself. The past, future and present all in an endless causality loop, every moment co-creating slices of time.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“Device against self, self beside device,
An idea about life,
Imitations of this, imitations of that,
Very funny life.”
― J.L. Haynes

“The shell, it looks alive…” Zara stands awestruck, admiring the seamless shape of the gravity-defying vessel. “Classic flying saucer look, no seams, as if it was moulded into shape,” she touches the shell, it recoils away from her hand, “it feels alive.”
A metallic voice sounds, reverberating around the vessel. A feminine voice.
“Assertion. I am alive and right here in front of you—who pray tell are you?”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“There’s a certain way you can see the world as magical, but for many the price is too high.”
― J.L. Haynes

“How do you know the body only holds one soul, it could hold tens of thousands.”
“Really?”
“My body is container for thought history of another. Although we do not recognize any separateness, we can work on same problem—two for the price of one, as you humans say.”
“And you believe this—why?”
“You ask if Ansebe has a soul—perhaps artificial is just a name—not what you believe artificial to be. No human could ever create life without a seed, yet I was made from just an egg, and a little knowhow. To answer questions of the soul, we ask, do we exist, are we real?”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“There lies a universe untold,
In endless reflections of star lit eyes”
― J.L. Haynes

“As time passes, words are said in the right way
For it is Time with her eternal gaze,
And subtle gifts that make right a world.”
― J.L. Haynes

“This stream is the hip joint for quoting quotes that are forgotten at the end of a cup of coffee.”
― J.L. Haynes

“Maybe the aliens are looking for the civilisations that don’t send out the SETI signals.”
― J.L. Haynes

“Where there is life, there is love. For it is Love with her eternal kiss that makes a life worth living.”
― J.L. Haynes

“No one ever sees a phoenix painting words,
Thoughts echo a wasteland:
songs by fate given a heart,
the indifferent let the unpolished shine,
'Get nothing, give nothing, receive nothing,'
The way is lost.
'Maybe this is the one,' no one knows.”
― J.L. Haynes

“Lone wolf howls at the great north celestial star… I am nothing it sings,
‘With the winds from the east,
‘The ghost army follows in the night,
‘Seen are wraiths, wisps of silvery dust, weaving waves in a sea of silken brocades,
‘And laid down the sleeping dragon is upon the land.”
― J.L. Haynes

“I looked on in wonder, at seeing the magnificent sculptor at work when it noticed me, taking my cubic ship between its colossal fingers. Its giant wrist turned one way, then the other as its machine-driven eyes focused upon my darkling configuration. At that point I freely presented myself in humanoid form, stepping out of my ship, and with my mysterious abilities I levitated before him, offering my companionship. But it treated me like an insect, flicking me away with a giant fingertip. As I came to rest, stopping before another giant statue the other side of the hall—between which there lied a bottomless rift—a strange sensation ran through my mid-section, and as it did, launched from my ship was a bright sparkler. A fuzzy feeling I felt as it shot toward the giant being. As it touched the fingertip that hit me, it dissipated into nothingness… leaving the giant with half a severed finger and oozing from it a strange type of cosmic energy. A second bright sparkler quickly emerged from my ship, which seemingly communicated with the giant gaining control over its awareness. Once done, the celestial giant bowed before me, and carried on with its work.”
― J.L. Haynes

“...and then the mysterious Elb appear to rearrange the very fabric of reality itself. They do not travel through the vast expanse, instead space becomes a cocoon as they weave the strings of the universe into a silken-case, only to break it open, emerging at their destination. A form of travel so inexplicable that the Eyt have not developed the conceptual awareness to even measure the basic mechanics of such phenomena.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“Next up is the Elb of Fire and Fusion, it phases in front of them. Its entrance is impressive, for under its translucent shell an orbital symmetry, as one by one it mimics the atoms of the heavy elements. A surreal animation. “< This Elb has only one sin to list, the greatest of them all—nuclear annihilation. Behold the future winds of change. >” The set changes to a view from the international space-station, the entire crew looking through the window at the beauty of Gaia, but something amiss can be seen in their expressions. A grave seriousness that something is aloof, foreboding. “< I give you mutually assured destruction. As you can witness… >” From the space-station the planet Earth is viewed. A serene blue marble, peaceful, passive, when one of the crew points to a white spot, then another. More follow, leading to a chain-reaction, as the blue planet appears to twinkle in space. The whiteness hails the day of reckoning. “< This is the possibility which man makes certain. What say you Zara Hanson, seeing this glimpse of man’s future? >”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol

“A wandering Taoist who for sake of this story we shall call Golden Sunlight At Deaths Dawn arrived in a town in the state of Wu. He was dressed quite shabbily. He looked a sorry thing. His hair was unkempt and his strange tattoos could hardly be seen for need of a wash. When he looked at people it was as if he could see right through them. Rumours of his mysterious abilities travelled afar. It was said that he could heal the sick, that he could catch ghosts, that he could read minds and that he could kill with just a look. One day he even defeated a master swordsman with just a tea cup held in his hand. The sword made from a long-lost art of metal forging was unbreakable they said, but the cup was slid only once along the blade guiding the sword tip into the ground, then with a slight tap of the cup the blade was shattered. He would teach those who would listen and ignore those who didn’t. One day he was approached by a rich merchant who threw a bag of silver at his feet, ‘Tell me about the art of effortless living,’ he said.
Golden Sunlight At Deaths Dawn sat down and opened the bag of silver. He gazed at the money for some time, and with a heavy sigh he replied, ‘Only the dead know of this art.’
‘Is that it? That is your answer?’ the merchant replied sharply. Not wanting to be outdone he then asked, ‘Do the dead know the highest Truth?’
‘A blind man fights ghosts in daylight. The dead don’t know of death. The Truth remains silent,’ replied the Taoist as he handed the bag of silver back to the merchant.”
― J.L. Haynes

“An oddity follows, a small circular ball of plasma drops from the ceiling of the Newara, for some reason Zara goes to catch it in her hands, “Whoa,” she juggles it, thinking it’s hot, but it’s cool to touch. The orb levitates up to face her.
“Hi Zara.”
“Rohza?”
“In the flesh.”
“Holy moley! You’re a real life will-o’-the-wisp.” Zara says, her face lit up from Rohza’s flickering light.”
― J.L. Haynes, Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol