Power is the ability to make someone do what they otherwise wouldn't, or deter them from doing what they otherwise would.
Creation never ceased on the sixth evening, it occurs to the young man. Creation unfolds around us, despite us and through us at the speed of days and nights. And we call it love.
You only value something if you know it'll end.
I feel sad that I found what I searched for, but no longer want what I found.
Leaves turned to soil beneath my feet. Thus it is, trees eat themselves.
Where there’s bluster, thinks Luisa, there’s duplicity
A sprinkle of last-minute despair gives a soul an agreeably earthy aftertaste.
Often I think boys don’t become men. Boys just get papier-mâchéd inside a man’s mask. Sometimes you can tell the boy is still in there.
What surer sign is there that the creative aquifers are dry than a writer creating a writer-character?
If you’re in your life, chance. Viewed from the outside, like a book you’re reading, it’s fate all the way.
Some might think that acting all modest and yet feeling all megalomaniacal is dishonest. I say it’s a cultural thing. And of course it’s not megalomania (well, if it is, I’m the worst person to judge...
What else has changes since 1984? Oil's running our, I say Earth's population is eight billion, mass extinction of flora and fauna are commonplace, climate change is foreclosing the Holocene Era. Apar...
I envy the God-intoxicated Boyces of the world. Prayer may be a placebo for the disease of helplessness, but placebos can make you feel better.
Scholars discern motions in history & formulate these motions into rules that govern the rises & falls of civilizations. My belief runs contrary, however. To wit: history admits no rules, only outcome...
This is how to control entire populations—don’t suppress news, but make it so dumb and dull that nobody has any interest in it.
The river’s vowels and the trees’ consonants speak a not-quite-foreign language.
La risata è anarchia e blasfema. I tiranni fanno bene a temerla.
To kill what you’d cherish & cure, he opined, that seems to be the way of things.
Birdsong foamed in the hour-before-dawn garden.
Love is fusion in the sun’s core. Love is a blurring of pronouns. Love is subject and object. The difference between its presence and its absence is the difference between life and death.
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