Even

“I don’t have a gun and I don’t have even one wife and my sentences tend to go on and on and on, with all this syntax in them. Ernest Hemingway would have died rather than have syntax. Or semicolons. I use a whole lot of half-assed semicolons; there was one of them just now; that was a semicolon after “semicolons,” and another one after “now.”

And another thing. Ernest Hemingway would have died rather than get old. And he did. He shot himself. A short sentence. Anything rather than a long sentence, a life sentence. Death sentences are short and very, very manly. Life sentences aren’t. They go on and on, all full of syntax and qualifying clauses and confusing references and getting old. And that brings up the real proof of what a mess I have made of being a man: I am not even young. Just about the time they finally started inventing women, I started getting old. And I went right on doing it. Shamelessly. I have allowed myself to get old and haven’t done one single thing about it, with a gun or anything.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Wave in the Mind: Talks and Essays on the Writer, the Reader and the Imagination

“Wolves in shells are crueler than stray ones.”
― Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

“Mitä teen oikeastaan sillä aitalla. Ei ole mitään niistä tarpeista, mitä varten se on tehty.
No.
Voin panna sinne tavaraa.
Voin katsoa sitä
Voin kontata alle.
Vois istua seinustalla kun aurinko paistaa.
On kaksi vaihtoehtoa, minulla on se aitta tai minulla ei ole sitä aittaa, kumpi on parempi. No. Se on aina parempi, joka tapahtuu, koska muuta vaihtoehtoa ei ole.”
― Antti Hyry

“Grammar is politics by other means.”
― Donna J. Haraway, Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature