“That which is imagined can never be lost.”
“Nothing ever begins.
There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any story springs.
The threads can always be traced back to some earlier tale, and the tales that preceded that; though as the narrator's voice recedes the connections will seem to grow more tenuous, for each age will want the tale told as if it were of its own making.”
“To dream in isolation can be properly splendid to be sure; but to dream in company seems to me infinitely preferable.”
“Maybe the man had taken the wrong turning, but at least he'd travelled some extraordinary roads.”
“..She had that brand of pragmatism that would find her the first brewing tea after Armageddon.”
“True joy is a profound remembering; and true grief the same.”
“And this story, having no beginning, will have no end.”
“Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment; no single word or place from which this or any other story springs”
“Let the void come, and bring an end to the tyranny of hope.”
“What is now proved was once only imagined.”
“All had this in common: that if they returned from the Empty Quarter - even though their journey might have taken them only a day's ride into that place - they came back changed men. Nobody could set his eyes on such a void and return to hearth and home without having lost a part of himself to the wilderness forever. Many, having endured the void once, went back, and back again, as if daring the desert to claim them; not content until it did. And those unhappy few who died at home, died with their eyes not on the loving faces at their bedside, nor on the cherry tree in blossom outside the window, but on that waste that called them as only the Abyss can call, promising the soul the balm of nothingness.”
“Dawn was close. The weaker stars had already disappeared, and even the brightest were uncertain of themselves.”
“Then we realized that your Kind like to make laws. Like to decree what's what, and whether it's good or not. And the world, being a loving thing, and not wishing to disappoint you or distress you, indulges you. Behaves as though your doctrines are in some way absolute.”
“As long as they could still be moved by a minor chord, or brought to a crisis of tears by scenes of lovers reunited; as long as there was room in their cautious hearts for games of chance, and laughter in the face of God, that must surely be enough to save them, at the last. If not, there was no hope for any living thing.”
“Yet the stories moved her. She couldn’t deny it. And they moved her in a way only *true* things could. It wasn’t sentiment that brought tears to her eyes. The stories weren’t sentimental. They were tough, even cruel. No, what made her weep was being reminded of an inner life she’d been so familiar with as a child; a life that was both an escape from, and revenge upon, the pains and frustrations of childhood; a life that was neither mawkish nor unknowing; a life of mind-places - haunted, soaring – that she’d chosen to forget when she’d took up the cause of adulthood.”
“One part of love is innocence, One part of love is guilt, One part the milk, that in a sense Is soured as soon as spilt, One part of love is sentiment, One part of love is lust, One part is the presentiment Of our return to dust.” Eight lines, and it was all over;”
“If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke — Aye, and what then? —S. T. Coleridge, Anima Poetae”
“Talk of Power and Might would always attract an audience. Lords never went out of fashion.”
“Sometimes, of course, the war required that he be cruel, but what cause worth fighting for did not require cruelty of its champions once in a while?”
“Suzanna had argued with zealots before — her brother had been born again at twenty-three, and given his life to Christ — she knew from experience there was no gainsaying the bigotry of faith.”
“And with that comprehension, so unlike the simplifications she’d been ruled by hitherto, she became even more certain that the carpet they carried was a last hope, while he — whose home the Weave contained — seemed increasingly indifferent to its fate, living in the moment and for the moment, touched scarcely at all by hope or regret.”
“If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke – Aye, and what then?’ S. T. Coleridge Anima Poetae”
“Yes, fantastic fiction can be intricately woven into the texture of our daily lives, addressing important issues in fabulist form. But it also serves to release us for a time from the definitions that confine our daily selves; to unplug us from a world that wounds and disappoints us, allowing us to venture into places of magic and transformation.”
“So let it do its worst, if that at the last was inevitable. Let the void come, and bring an end to the tyranny of hope.”
“All rising to great place is by a winding stair. —Sir Francis Bacon,”
“But he’d brought new wisdom from the high places. He knew now that things forgotten might be recalled; things lost, found again.”
“Нищо няма начало.
Няма първи миг, няма една дума или едно място, които да поставят началото на тази, или която и да е история.
Винаги може да се проследят нишките назад, до някоя предишна приказка, и до още по-ранни приказки — макар че колкото по-далечен става гласът на разказвача, толкова по-слаби изглеждат връзките — всяка епоха изисква приказката да се разказва така, сякаш е създадена през нея.
Така езичниците стават светци, трагичното — смешно, влюбените стават сантиментални, а демоните — механични играчки.
Нищо не е неизменно. Совалката влиза и излиза, факти и измислици, дух и материя, втъкани в мотиви, а общото помежду им е може би само това: сред тях е скрит филигран, който с времето ще се превърне в един свят.
В такъв случай мястото, което ще изберем за начало, трябва да бъде произволно.
Някъде между полузабравено минало и бъдеще, което засега сме зърнали само за миг.”
“It was what his mother would have done in the circumstances. Boiled some fresh water, warmed the pot and counted out the spoonfuls of tea. Setting domestic order against the chaos, in the hope of winning some temporary reprieve from the vale of tears.”
“He’d never seen such a look on any human face: such a wilderness of innocent malice. A”
“He seemed full of some goodness she didn't understand”
“Until suddenly one day I felt beautiful and holy for having had the courage to hold on to my sanity after all I'd seen and been through, body and soul, in too loud a solitude...”
“I have no physical symptoms, but psychologically there's this burden. I've got to get rid of it somehow. Of course, when I first went back to work I was scared the same thing might happen again. It takes positive thinking to overcome fear, otherwise you'll carry around this victim mentality forever.”
“The law perverted! The law — and, in its wake, all the collective forces of the nation — the law, I say, not only diverted from its proper direction, but made to pursue one entirely contrary! The law become the tool of every kind of avarice, instead of being its check! The law guilty of that very iniquity which it was its mission to punish! Truly, this is a serious fact, if it exists, and one to which I feel bound to call the attention of my fellow citizens.”
“Great vision without great people is irrelevant.”
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