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“[...]the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road

“To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“In practical life we are compelled to follow what is most probable ; in speculative thought we are compelled to follow truth.”
― Baruch Spinoza, Spinoza: The Letters

“Aan drie wanden hingen reproducties van abstracte schilderijen waaruit niet viel af te leiden of de maker ervan een mens dan wel een ontploft blik ravioli geweest was.”
― Dimitri Verhulst, De laatste liefde van mijn moeder