Theodor Sebastian

“- Nu crezi dumneata în iubire? Nu te atrage iubirea?...
- Ba da, mă atrage... Poate că e singurul rost al unei vieţi mărginite, comune, cum e viața noastră. Şi-mi place... dar ştiu că nu durează... că nu corespunde unei realităţi... Îmi place mult să privesc o noapte cu lună... şi uneori stau vreme îndelungată la fereastra mea, privind, dar ştiu bine că luna e altceva decât ceea ce pare... Nu întind mâna s-o prind... E mult şi ceea ce dă, fără intenţie şi sforţare.”
― Camil Petrescu, Patul lui Procust

“Wish You Were Here

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skys from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade
Your heros for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.”
― Roger Waters

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound or stab us. If the book we're reading doesn't wake us up with a blow to the head, what are we reading for? So that it will make us happy, as you write? Good Lord, we would be happy precisely if we had no books, and the kind of books that make us happy are the kind we could write ourselves if we had to. But we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is my belief.”
― Franz Kafka

“It is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late.”
― Emil Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born