Go For It Quotes (page 71)
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In the end, he had to admit, he didn't really understand her. He didn't understand women. He didn't understand men. He didn't even understand children very well. All he really understood, he thought, was himself and the rest of the universe. Neither anything like completely, of course, but both well enough to know that what remained to be discovered would make sense; it would fit in, it could all be gradually and patiently fitted together a bit at a time, like an infinite jigsaw puzzle, with...
Iain Banks
A friend said, "Ah, I get it. All of my life I have gone into every next event asking, in effect, What's in it for me? Now I see that what I must do is go into every event asking, What can I do for them?" And my friend had grievously missed the point. The great discovery is that we have nothing to give at all to anyone, anywhere.
Joseph Chilton Pearce
Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth. One more thin gypsy thief. Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes. I thought it was there for good so I never tried. And Jane came by with a lock of your hair. She said that you gave it to her. That night that you planned to go clear
Leonard Cohen
So you think that you're a failure, do you? Well, you probably are. What's wrong with that? In the first place, if you've any sense at all you must have learned by now that we pay just as dearly for our triumphs as we do for our defeats. Go ahead and fail. But fail with wit, fail with grace, fail with style. A mediocre failure is as insufferable as a mediocre success. Embrace failure! Seek it out. Learn to love it. That may be the only way any of us will ever be free.
Tom Robbins
Jump, if you want to, ‘cause I’ll catch you, girl. I’ll catch you “fore you fall. Go as far inside as you need to, I’ll hold your ankles. Make sure you get back out. I’m not saying this because I need a place to stay. That’s the last thing I need. I told you, I’m a walking man, but I been heading in this direction for seven years. Walking all around this place. Upstate, downstate, east, west; I been in territory ain’t got no name, never staying nowhere long. But when I got here and sat out...
Toni Morrison
I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you, From waiting to not waiting for you. My heart moves from cold to fire. I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you. Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you. Is that I do not see you but love you blindly. Maybe January light will consume. My heart with its cruel. Ray, stealing my key to true calm. In this part of the story I am the one who. Dies, the only...
Pablo Neruda
Anyway, said Robert, they got a big fright. After that they started dropping pellets in the water and digging latrines and spraying for flies and bringing buckets of soap. But do you think they do it because they love us? Not a hope. They prefer it that we live because we look too terrible when we get sick and die. If we grew thin and turned into paper and then into ash and floated away, they wouldn't give a stuff for us. They just don't want to get upset. They want to go to sleep feeling good.
J. M. Coetzee
... active love is a harsh and fearful thing compared with the love in dreams. Love in dreams thirsts for immediate action, quickly performed, and with everyone watching. Indeed, it will go as far as the giving even of one's life, provided it does not take long but is soon over, as on stage, and eveyone is looking on and praising. Whereas active love is labor and persistence, and for some people, perhaps, a whole science.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Story ideas had never been a problem for him, there'd always been more ideas than time to write them, he'd reject one perfectly good notion because he fell more simpatico toward a different one. But of course he could never go back to any of those ancient story stubs, they wouldn't still have juice in them. For him, creating a novel was like gardening; you choose your seed, you treat it exactly the way the package says, and gradually a thing of beauty - or of sturdiness, or of nutrition -...
Donald E. Westlake
These memories are the memorials and pledges of the vital hours of a lifetime. These hours of afflatus in the human spirit, the springs of art, are, in their mystery, akin to the epochs of history, when a race which for centuries has lived content, unknown, behind its own frontiers, digging, eating, sleeping, begetting, doing what was requisite for survival and nothing else, will, for a generation or two, stupefy the world; commit all manner of crimes, perhaps; follow the wildest chimeras,...
Evelyn Waugh
