Erminia Scheerer

“I know you. I've known you my whole life. I've been waiting. Waiting for you to make an appearance. Waiting all these years.
I knew you in the womb.”
― Dennis Lehane, Shutter Island

“I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.”
― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

“McCandless read and reread The Call of the Wild, White Fang, “To Build a Fire,” “An Odyssey of the North,” “The Wit of Porportuk.” He was so enthralled by these tales, however, that he seemed to forget they were works of fiction, constructions of the imagination that had more to do with London’s romantic sensibilities than with the actualities of life in the subarctic wilderness. McCandless conveniently overlooked the fact that London himself had spent just a single winter in the North and that he’d died by his own hand on his California estate at the age of forty, a fatuous drunk, obese and pathetic, maintaining a sedentary existence that bore scant resemblance to the ideals he espoused in print.”
― Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

“At what point does faith become insanity?”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master