Ryan Hinkle > Ryan's Quotes

“The perfect being, huh? There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliché, but it’s the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it. But, what’s the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not a single thing. I loathe perfection! If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for imagination. No place left for a person to gain additional knowledge or abilities. Do you know what that means? For scientists such as ourselves, perfection only brings despair. It is our job to create things more wonderful than anything before them, but never to obtain perfection. A scientist must be a person who finds ecstasy while suffering from that antimony. In short, the moment that foolishness left your mouth and reached my ears, you had already lost. Of course, that’s assuming you are a scientist”
― Tite Kubo

“Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.
Even now I curse the day—and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my curse,—
Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
As kill a man, or else devise his death,
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,
Set deadly enmity between two friends,
Make poor men's cattle break their necks;
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.”
― William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus

“Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that lives. My mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. A Jew would have wept to have seen our parting. Why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father. No, this left shoe is my father. No, no, this left shoe is my mother. Nay, that cannot be so neither. Yes, it is so, it is so -- it hath the worser sole. This shoe with the hole in it is my mother, and this my father. A vengeance on't! There 'tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand. This hat is Nan, our maid. I am the dog. No, the dog is himself, and I am the dog -- O, the dog is me, and I am myself. Ay, so, so. Now come I to my father: 'Father, your blessing.' Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping. Now should I kiss my father -- well, he weeps on. Now come I to my mother. O, that she could speak now like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her -- why, there 'tis: here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a word!”
― William Shakespeare, The Two Gentlemen of Verona

“It doesn't seem like you're living a life, it's almost like you're travelling on a train with the destination unknown.

You're sitting on a seat near the window looking outside, imagining how things are there outside, how is it like to live in the houses that you pass by. And when you’re busy noticing the outside, you at times do not pay heed to your surroundings inside the coach.

And thus some passengers who got down at a station midway fail to capture your interest, or maybe it is because of your deviation of interest towards the outside. While at other stops new people get up, and you like their company, you share and you laugh.

But sooner or later they get down.

Because it's your journey, you're the traveler and they just accompany you for some distances.

And then, maybe when you reach your destination there will still be passengers in the train, passengers you've mingled with or passengers you hate, people who were there since the train had started or people who got in just before the last stoppage, and like it or not, they will get off the train with you, at your destination which also proved to be there destination.”
― Sanhita Baruah

“I almost let him die. I did. I’m not proud of that now. It was a mistake. But when all you can think of is revenge, you don’t think straight. I haven’t for a long time. I’ve plotted and manipulated and stolen to get what I want, and it’s cost me everything. When I lost my mother, I lost a bit of myself to the hatred. It clouded my judgment. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and I lost both my father and brother because of it. I lost the love of my life. I lost the respect of my fellow Bloods. I lost control over you. By using deception to get my revenge, I lost everything, Kara. I lost everything that ever used to matter to me. - Blood Gavin”
― S.M. Boyce, Heritage

“شیخی به زنی فاحشه گفتا مستی
هر لحظه به دام دگری پا بستی
گفت شیخا هر آنچه گویی هستم
آیا تو چنان که می نمایی هستی”
― عطار نیشابوری

“مجویید در من ز شادی نشانه

من و تا ابد این غم جاودانه

من آن قصه تلخ درد آفرینم

که دیگر نپرسند از من نشانه

نجوید مرا چشم افسانه جویی

نگوید مرا ، قصه گوی زمانه

من آن مرغ غمگین تنها نشینم

که دیگر ندارم هوای ترانه

ربودند جفت مرا از کنارم

شکستند بال مرا ، بی بهانه

▄ ▄ ▄

من آن تک درختم که دژخیم پاییز

چنان کوفته بر تنم تازیانه

که خفته است در من فروغ جوانی

که مرده است در من امید جوانه

نه دست بهاری نوازد تنم را

نه مرغی به شاخم کند ، آشیانه

من آن بی کرانِ کویرم که در من

نیفشاده جز دست اندوه* ، دانه

چه می پرسی از قصّه ی غصّه هایم ؟

که از من تو را خود همین بس فسانه

که من دشت خشکم که در من نشسته است

کران تا کران ، حسرتی بی کرانه”
― حسین منزوی

“He left the next morning, searching for a city with light that reminded him of me. He would mail me empty envelopes and boxes, I would take them into my closet, shut the door, and quickly open them. A flash of foreign light would fill the room, but only for a moment. I would whisper ‘this is what we’re like, this is what we’re like.’…”
― Mikl Paul, Dandelions That have Held your Breath

“To throw away an honest friend is, as it were, to throw your life away”
― Sophocles, Oedipus Rex

“How terrible-- to see the truth when the truth is only pain to him who sees!”
― Sophocles, Oedipus Rex

“Here's all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.”
― George Carlin, When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?

“The heart is a
The thousand-stringed instrument

That can only be tuned with
Love.”
― شمس الدین محمد حافظ / Khwāja Šams ud-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Šīrāzī, The Gift