Perhaps Quotes (page 62)
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Text of bliss: the text that imposes a state of loss, the text that discomforts (perhaps to the point of a certain boredom), unsettles the reader's historical, cultural, psychological assumptions, the consistency of his tastes, values, memories, brings to a crisis his relation with language.
Roland Barthes
Monk had a brief vision of what it must be like to be a women on her own, obliged to work at pleasing people because your acceptance, perhaps even your financial survival, depended upon it. There must be hundreds - thousands - of petty accommodations, suppressions of your own beliefs and opinions because they would not be what someone else wished to hear. What a constant humiliation, like a burning blister on the heel which hurt with every step. And on the other hand, what a desperate...
Anne Perry
How she listened, the first time, to the sonorous lamentations of romantic melancholia echoing out across heaven and earth! If her childhood had been spent in the dark back-room of a shop in some town, she would now perhaps have been kindled by the lyric surgings of nature which only normally reach us as through the interpretation of a writer.
Gustave Flaubert
But suddenly, after all this time, I feel there is something to say, and if I don'tquickly write it down, my head will burst. It doesn't matter if you read it. Itdoesn't even matter if I send it - assuming that could be done. Perhaps it comes down to this. I am writing to you because you know nothing. Because you are faraway from me and know nothing.
Paul Auster
I’ve chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it then I’m only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find the joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standardsand I set my own standards. I inherit nothing. I stand at the end of no tradition. I may perhaps stand at the beginning of
one
Ayn Rand
He had two lives: one, open, and known by all who cared to know, full of relative truth and of relative falsehood, exactly like the lives of his friends and acquaintances; and another life running its course in secret. And though some strange, perhaps accidental, conjunction of circumstances, everything that was essential, of interest and of value to him, everything in which he was sincere and did not deceive himself, everything that made the kernel of his life, was hidden from other people.
Anton Chekhov
These dreams reminded me that, since I wished some day to become a writer, it was high time to decide what sort of books I was going to write. But as soon as I asked myself the question, and tried to discover some subject to which I could impart a philosophical significance of infinite value, my mind would stop like a clock, my consciousness would be faced with a blank, I would feel either that I was wholly devoid of talent or perhaps that some malady of the brain was hindering its development.
Marcel Proust
I have never recorded a fact, which perhaps aught to have gone into my sketch of Thoreau, that, on the 1st August 1844, when I read my Discourse on Emancipation (in the British West Indies), in the Town Hall, in Concord, and the selectmen would not direct the sexton to ring the meeting-house bell, Henry went himself, and rung the bell at the appointed hour.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
A mountain is a strange and awful thing. In old times, without knowingso much of their strangeness and awfulness as we do, people were yetmore afraid of mountains. But then somehow they had not come to seehow beautiful they are as well as awful, and they hated them--and whatpeople hate they must fear. Now that we have learned to look at themwith admiration, perhaps we do not feel quite awe enough of them. Tome they are beautiful terrors.
George MacDonald