Do you wrestle with dreams? Do you contend with shadows? Do you move in a kind of sleep? Time has slipped away. Your life is stolen. You tarried with trifles, Victim of your folly." Dirge for Jamis on the Funeral Plain, from 'Songs of Muad'Dib
Frank HerbertAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: american
- Born: October 8, 1920
- Died: February 11, 1986
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He was just hungry, Papa. He's going to die.He's going to die anyway.He's so scared, Papa.The man squatted and looked at him. I'm scared, he said. Do you understand? I'm scared.The boy didn't answer. He just sat there with his head down, sobbing.You're not the one who has to worry about everything.The boy said something but he couldn't understand him. What? He said.He looked up, his wet and grimy face. Yes I am, he said. I am the one.
Cormac McCarthy
Still, there's no harm in putting a full stop to one's disagreeable thoughts by looking at a mark on the wall... Here is something definite, something real. thus, waking from a midnight dream of horror, one hastily turns on the light and lies quiescent, worshipping the chest of drawers, worshipping solidity, worshipping reality, worshipping the impersonal world which is proof of some existence other than ours.
Virginia Woolf
She knew, of course that she was being supremely unfair, that Franz was the best man she ever had- he was intelligent, he understood her paintings, he was handsome and good-but the more she thought about it, the more she longed to ravish his intelligence, defile his kindheartedness, and violate his powerless strength
Milan Kundera