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  • #1
    Anton Chekhov
    “I was oppressed with a sense of vague discontent and dissatisfaction with my own life, which was passing so quickly and uninterestingly, and I kept thinking it would be a good thing if I could tear my heart out of my breast, that heart which had grown so weary of life.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #2
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “Our imagination flies -- we are its shadow on the earth.”
    Vladimir Nabokov

  • #3
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “Let all of life be an unfettered howl.”
    Vladimir Nabokov

  • #4
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. Let visitors trip. And the highest enjoyment of timelessness―in a landscape selected at random―is when I stand among rare butterflies and their food plants. This is ecstasy, and behind the ecstasy is something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and stone. A thrill of gratitude to whom it may concern―to the contrapuntal genius of human fate or to tender ghosts humoring a lucky mortal.”
    Vladimir Nabokov

  • #5
    Haruki Murakami
    “Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

    And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

    And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”
    Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

  • #6
    Franz Kafka
    “All language is but a poor translation.”
    Franz Kafka

  • #7
    Franz Kafka
    “Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”
    Franz Kafka

  • #8
    Vladimir Nabokov
    “Let all of life be an unfettered howl. Like the crowd greeting the gladiator. Don't stop to think, don't interrupt the scream, exhale, release life's rapture.”
    Vladimir Nabokov

  • #9
    Ernest Hemingway
    “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
    Ernest Hemingway

  • #10
    Mark Twain
    “Substitute 'damn' every time you're inclined to write 'very;' your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.”
    Mark Twain

  • #11
    Boris Pasternak
    “And why is it, thought Lara, that my fate is to see everything and take it all so much to heart?”
    Boris Pasternak

  • #12
    Boris Pasternak
    “I have the impression that if he didn't complicate his life so needlessly, he would die of boredom.”
    Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

  • #13
    Boris Pasternak
    “Reshaping life! People who can say that have never understood a thing about life—they have never felt its breath, its heartbeat—however much they have seen or done. They look on it as a lump of raw material that needs to be processed by them, to be ennobled by their touch. But life is never a material, a substance to be molded. If you want to know, life is the principle of self-renewal, it is constantly renewing and remaking and changing and transfiguring itself, it is infinitely beyond your or my obtuse theories about it.”
    Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

  • #14
    Susan Sontag
    “My library is an archive of longings.”
    Susan Sontag, As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980

  • #15
    Susan Sontag
    “Do stuff. be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration's shove or society's kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It's all about paying attention. attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. stay eager.”
    Susan Sontag

  • #16
    Susan Sontag
    “All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”
    Susan Sontag

  • #17
    Susan Sontag
    “To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have; it turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just as a camera is a sublimation of the gun, to photograph someone is a subliminal murder - a soft murder, appropriate to a sad, frightened time.”
    Susan Sontag, On Photography

  • #18
    Susan Sontag
    “Depression is melancholy minus its charms.”
    Susan Sontag, Illness as Metaphor

  • #19
    Susan Sontag
    “I discovered that I am tired of being a person. Not just tired of being the person I was, but any person at all”
    Susan Sontag

  • #20
    Susan Sontag
    “I don’t care about someone being intelligent; any situation between people, when they are really human with each other, produces ‘intelligence.”
    Susan Sontag

  • #21
    Anton Chekhov
    “Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #22
    Anton Chekhov
    “When asked, "Why do you always wear black?", he said, "I am mourning for my life.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #23
    Anton Chekhov
    “Perhaps the feelings that we experience when we are in love represent a normal state. Being in love shows a person who he should be.”
    Anton Chekhov
    tags: love

  • #24
    Anton Chekhov
    “We shall find peace. We shall hear angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds.”
    Anton Pavlovich Chekhov

  • #25
    Anton Chekhov
    “There should be more sincerity and heart in human relations, more silence and simplicity in our interactions. Be rude when you’re angry, laugh when something is funny, and answer when you’re asked.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #26
    Anton Chekhov
    “If ever my life can be of any use to you, come and claim it.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #27
    Anton Chekhov
    “To fear love is to fear life, and those whose fear life are already three parts dead...”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #28
    Anton Chekhov
    “And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive, like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the face of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor, and your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #29
    Anton Chekhov
    “These people have learned not from books, but in the fields, in the wood, on the river bank. Their teachers have been the birds themselves, when they sang to them, the sun when it left a glow of crimson behind it at setting, the very trees, and wild herbs.”
    Anton Chekhov

  • #30
    Anton Chekhov
    “He had two lives: one, open, seen 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 through 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, The Lady With the Little Dog and Other Stories, 1896-1904



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