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  • #1
    Yukio Mishima
    “Yet how strange a thing is the beauty of music! The brief beauty that the player brings into being transforms a given period of time into pure continuance; it is certain never to be repeated; like the existence of dayflies and other such short-lived creatures, beauty is a perfect abstraction and creation of life itself. Nothing is so similar to life as music.”
    Yukio Mishima, The Temple of the Golden Pavilion

  • #2
    Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
    “If I should ever die, God forbid, let this be my epitaph:
    THE ONLY PROOF HE NEEDED
    FOR THE EXISTENCE OF GOD
    WAS MUSIC”
    kurt vonnegut

  • #3
    Yukio Mishima
    “True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally destroys.”
    Yukio Mishima

  • #4
    Yukio Mishima
    “What I wanted was to die among strangers, untroubled, beneath a cloudless sky. And yet my desire differed from the sentiments of that ancient Greek who wanted to die under the brilliant sun. What I wanted was some natural, spontaneous suicide. I wanted a death like that of a fox, not yet well versed in cunning, that walks carelessly along a mountain path and is shot by a hunter because of its own stupidity…”
    Yukio Mishima, Confessions of a Mask

  • #5
    Yukio Mishima
    “When a boy… discovers that he is more given into introspection and consciousness of self than other boys his age, he easily falls into the error of believing it is because he is more mature than they. This was certainly a mistake in my case. Rather, it was because the other boys had no such need of understanding themselves as I had: they could be their natural selves, whereas I was to play a part, a fact that would require considerable understanding and study. So it was not my maturity but my sense of uneasiness, my uncertainty that was forcing me to gain control over my consciousness. Because such consciousness was simply a steppingstone to aberration and my present thinking was nothing but uncertain and haphazard guesswork.”
    Yukio Mishima, Confessions of a Mask

  • #6
    Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
    “And so it goes...”
    Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

  • #7
    Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
    “And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes.”
    Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

  • #8
    Allen Ginsberg
    “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
    madness, starving hysterical naked,
    dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
    looking for an angry fix,
    angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
    connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
    who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
    up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
    cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
    contemplating jazz,
    who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
    saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
    who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
    hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
    among the scholars of war, ”
    Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems

  • #9
    Allen Ginsberg
    “I'm with you in Rockland
    in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night.”
    Allen Ginsberg, Howl and Other Poems

  • #10
    Yukio Mishima
    “Dreams, memories, the sacred--they are all alike in that they are beyond our grasp. Once we are even marginally separated from what we can touch, the object is sanctified; it acquires the beauty of the unattainable, the quality of the miraculous. Everything, really, has this quality of sacredness, but we can desecrate it at a touch. How strange man is! His touch defiles and yet he contains the source of miracles.”
    Yukio Mishima, Spring Snow

  • #11
    Yukio Mishima
    “Do I, then, belong to the heavens?
    Why, if not so, should the heavens
    Fix me thus with their ceaseless blue stare,
    Luring me on, and my mind, higher
    Ever higher, up into the sky,
    Drawing me ceaselessly up
    To heights far, far above the human?
    Why, when balance has been strictly studied
    And flight calculated with the best of reason
    Till no aberrant element should, by rights, remain-
    Why, still, should the lust for ascension
    Seem, in itself, so close to madness?
    Nothing is that can satify me;
    Earthly novelty is too soon dulled;
    I am drawn higher and higher, more unstable,
    Closer and closer to the sun's effulgence.
    Why do these rays of reason destroy me?
    Villages below and meandering streams
    Grow tolerable as our distance grows.
    Why do they plead, approve, lure me
    With promise that I may love the human
    If only it is seen, thus, from afar-
    Although the goal could never have been love,
    Nor, had it been, could I ever have
    Belonged to the heavens?
    I have not envied the bird its freedom
    Nor have I longed for the ease of Nature,
    Driven by naught save this strange yearning
    For the higher, and the closer, to plunge myself
    Into the deep sky's blue, so contrary
    To all organic joys, so far
    From pleasures of superiority
    But higher, and higher,
    Dazzled, perhaps, by the dizzy incandescence
    Of waxen wings.

    Or do I then
    Belong, after all, to the earth?
    Why, if not so, should the earth
    Show such swiftness to encompass my fall?
    Granting no space to think or feel,
    Why did the soft, indolent earth thus
    Greet me with the shock of steel plate?
    Did the soft earth thus turn to steel
    Only to show me my own softness?
    That Nature might bring home to me
    That to fall, not to fly, is in the order of things,
    More natural by far than that improbable passion?
    Is the blue of the sky then a dream?
    Was it devised by the earth, to which I belonged,
    On account of the fleeting, white-hot intoxication
    Achieved for a moment by waxen wings?
    And did the heavens abet the plan to punish me?
    To punish me for not believing in myself
    Or for believing too much;
    Too earger to know where lay my allegiance
    Or vainly assuming that already I knew all;
    For wanting to fly off
    To the unknown
    Or the known:
    Both of them a single, blue speck of an idea?”
    Yukio Mishima, Sun & Steel

  • #12
    Jenny Holzer
    “It is in your self-interest to find a way to be very tender.”
    Jenny Holzer

  • #13
    Jenny Holzer
    “If you behaved nicely, the communists wouldn't exist.”
    Jenny Holzer, Jenny Holzer: Truisms And Essays

  • #14
    Jenny Holzer
    “SPIT ALL OVER SOMEONE WITH A MOUTHFUL OF MILK IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT SOMETHING ABOUT THEIR PERSONALITY FAST.”
    Jenny Holzer

  • #15
    Yukio Mishima
    “He felt that taking naps was much more beneficial than confronting catastrophes.”
    Yukio Mishima, Spring Snow



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