What no one tells the young is to be careful of their childhoods. The memories from those days are the most compelling paintings in the mind--to which, with nostalgia or dread, you must ever return.
What more does one ask of life, really, but to stagger from moment to moment with a reason to wake and wait for the next reason to wake?
Well, the family always was bright, and brightness, as you know, decays brilliantly.
We are all migrants. We are exiled from the place where meaning meant something.
Was it an accident... or is it just that the world unwraps itself to you again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew?
To consider what other people might say is hardly a good reason to take action or to defer it.
Though who knows the architecture of the mind, and whether the arches that open upon discrete episodes are ordered in any way sequentialy?
This is what it feels like to be a piece of shit, thought Brrr; being pummeled on all sides by the world, forced forward, outward, into naked stink and light.
They hadn’t come so far just to be turned away because of adolescent radicalism.
The world was a set of alternations, resistance and persistence, writ up in lake and the distant Alpine peaks of eastern Switzerland. In fact, the world was no easier to understand than Bach.
The wickedness of men is that their power breeds stupidity and blindness,
The thing is I have become fond of Galinda myself. Behind her starry-eyed love of herself there is a mind struggling to work. She does think about things. When her mind is really working, she could, i...
The story is told in so many ways, depending on who is doing the telling, and what needs to be heard at the time.
The more civilized we become, the more horrendous our entertainments, said Frex.
The moon passed overhead in its path from the Vinkus, and she felt its accusatory spotlight, and moved back from the tall windows.
The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves as well. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A stream of events issues from the decision, r...
The mister days that letters are the key, but even when you know the whole family, there's so many combinations you can make. And they break their word.
The last light with any real warmth had been at home, long ago, in a place and a time that no longer existed, with people whose names he didn’t say even inside his own mind.
The day is wound up and begins even before the last haunted dreams, the last of the fog, those spectral and evanescent residues, have faded away.
The cave of Ozma has been discovered, and she is to come back and rule our Oz, and the idiotic Scarecrow can go stuff himself. Hah!Good one: a Scarecrow stuffing himself.