Phoebe

“Like Oz, life is full of beauty and horror. Whether you’re in the magical realm or the so-called civilized one, you can look at the world around you and see both things at almost any time. But what being in Oz taught me is that no matter how horrific a situation may be, no matter how devastating or scary or chaotic, there is still always beauty in the colors of it all, even in the grays. As I look back on the last four years of my life, on everything that led me to the place where my life changed forever for a second time, I might think I wasted too many crucial years perceiving my world through a lens that leeched the color from everything I set my eyes on, but now I can forgive myself for my mistakes and maybe even be grateful for the trials I’ve faced. After all, a rainbow only comes out when it rains. The most spectacular rainbows are set against a backdrop of a half dark sky where gray clouds hover and rain batters the surface of the earth, but the horizon is clear and bright—a pure, radiant blue surrounding a shining golden sun. When I’m in Oz, that rainbow is who I am—a vivid, radiant spectrum of colors with a clear bright landscape ahead only made more rich-hued and vibrant by the darkness that lies behind it.”
― Garten Gevedon, Dorothy in the Land of Monsters

“As it happened, I was no longer interested in literature as a form of snobbery or even self-definition. I had no desire to prove that one book was better than another; in fact, if I read something I admired, I found myself increasingly disinclined to mention it at all. What I knew personally to be true had come to seem unrelated to the process of persuading others. I did not, any longer, want to persuade anyone of anything.”
― Rachel Cusk, Outline

“The human capacity for self-delusion is apparently infinite – and if that is the case, how are we ever meant to know, except by existing in a state of absolute pessimism, that once again we are fooling ourselves?”
― Rachel Cusk, Outline

“People sometimes get ripped from our lives and it’s devastating. It’s as though the hand of fate reaches inside your chest, rips out your guts, tosses them around a bit, then shoves them back in. Senseless and savage acts seem to be her forte.

I’m tired of fate. Tired of hating her. She’s cruel to too many of us, she ignores most of us, and half the time she favors the unscrupulous.

Where did all the good fates go? Did they ever exist? Or on the rare occasions fate shines on good people is it only a fluke?

Maybe it was never fate that shined on them. Maybe they just slipped under her radar long enough to accomplish something significant without loss or grief or devastation. Or maybe there’s something out there stronger than fate. Too bad it’s frugal in choosing its battles with her.”
― Garten Gevedon, Dorothy in the Land of Monsters