Look, I say. You can't just let your thoughts float around in the ether and hope eventually they'll connect with something. It's absurd. No, it's not, Gil says. Lots of good things happen that way. Penicillin. Teflon. Smart dust. Something happens th...
Like a comet pulled from orbit, As it passes a sun. Like a stream that meets a boulder, Halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good It well may be, That we will never...
Music is a complete evocation – like a smell. It can bring an entire memory and feeling back to you in a rush. Much more complete than even a photograph. You allow yourself a certain visual distance with photos – not music. It envelopes you – t...
Instructions for freedom": 1. Life's metaphors are God's instructions. 2. You have just climbed up and above the roof, there is nothing between you and the Infinite; now, let go. 3. The day is ending, it's time for something that was beautiful to tur...
This kind of action is a prevalent error among oppressed peoples. It is based upon the false notion that there is only a limited and particular amount of freedom that must be divided up between us, with the largest and juiciest pieces of liberty goin...
Every system of power in the world has a vested interest in weakening the individuality of its subjects and tries to weaken or it possible completely extinguish it.
Identity is your role in life, the part you play. Individuality is who you are, and who you are is revealed to you if you can get to complete presence.
To love someone so deeply is to risk losing yourself forever. Once I admitted my feelings to him, there was no going back—no hope to ever make my heart complete without him
Every intimacy carries secreted somewhere below its initial lovely surfaces, the ever-coiled makings of complete catastrophe.
Being under him, trapped, objectified, I lost all fear. With Jonathan, I felt safe. I felt a loss of control so complete, a surrender so honest that it became a luxurious indulgence.
Nathan seemed to have absorbed his sense of journalistic ethics from old movies about newspaper reporters. For Naomi, internet sampling ad scratching was a completely valid form of journalism, presenting no ethical clouds on its open-source horizon.
Mercia wasn’t a little-in-love sort of man. He was mad, dark passion, sweeping emotion, and complete loss of reason, with his gaunt male beauty, his wealth and power, and his haunted past.
... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are interested in poetry.
Thoughts become things? True, but that analysis is not complete - we need to add two more words: thoughts become things through energy.
There’s a fine line between child-like – learning as a child does, the natural way we learn most stuff – and being child-ish.
Do you always touch strangers?” I question, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand and the way I have to remember to breathe. “You’ve been upgraded to acquaintance,” he winks. “This is completely appropriate.
The fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To her who loved the rose.
A fool may buy all the books in the world, and they will be in his library; but he will be able to read only those that he deserves to.
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.
Once for each thing. Just once; no more. And we too, just once. And never again. But to have been this once, completely, even if only once: to have been at one with the earth, seems beyond undoing.
Writing a novel is like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces aren't even fixed in shape. Yet, somehow, they all come together in the end to form the complete picture.
