History admits no rules; only outcomes.
One fine day a predatory world shall consume itself.
We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love.
The better organized the state, the duller its humanity.
In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.
Whoever opined "Money can't buy you happiness" obviously had far too much of the stuff.
my dreams are the single unpredictable factor in my zoned days and nights. Nobody allots them, or censors them. Dreams are all I have ever truly owned.
A book you finish reading is not the same book it was before you read it.
now I'm a spent firework; but at least I've been a firework.
What is any ocean but a multitude of drops?
What wouldn't I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds.
Time is what stops history happening at once; time is the speed at which the past disappears.
If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, "˜When you're ready'.
We looked at each other for the last time; nothing is as eloquent as nothing.
We are only what we know, and I wished to be so much more than I was, sorely.
there ain't no journey what don't change you some.
Fantasy. Lunacy. All revolutions are, until they happen, then they are historical inevitabilities.
Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible.
Travel far enough, you meet yourself.
I believe there is another world waiting for us. A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there.
Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.
Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.
A half- read book is a half- finished love affair.
My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?
Integrity is a bugger, it really is. Lying can get you into difficulties, but to really wind up in the crappers try telling nothing but the truth.
The weak are meat the strong do eat.
As many truths as men. Occasionally, I glimpse a truer Truth, hiding in imperfect simulacrums of itself, but as I approach, it bestirs itself & moves deeper into the thorny swamp of dissent.
People are obscenities. Would rather be music than be a mass of tubes squeezing semisolids around itself for a few decades before becoming so dribblesome it'll no longer function.
Being born's a hell of a lottery.
Dreams are shores where the ocean of spirit meets the land of matter. Dreams are beaches where the yet-to-be, the once-were, the will-never-be may walk awhile with the still are.
It's a small world. It keeps recrossing itself.
The healthy can't understand the emptied, the broken.
Writing is such a damn lonely sickness.
By each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.
Anticipating the end of the world is humanity's oldest passtime
I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. If I were to imagine heaven, I would imagine a door opening. And he would be waiting for me there.
This isn't an interrogation or a trail. Your version of the truth is the only thing that matters. -Truth is singular. It's 'versions' are mistruths.
How vulgar, this hankering after immortality, how vain, how false. Composers are merely scribblers of cave paintings. One writes music because winter is eternal and because, if one didn't, the wolves and blizzards would be at one's throat all the sooner.
I understand now that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention if only one can first conceive of doing so.
I've become a less brave traveller since I became a dad, but in the past I was more foolhardy than brave.