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“Be what you would seem to be - or, if you'd like it put more simply - never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.”
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“Music can lift us out of depression or move us to tears - it is a remedy, a tonic, orange juice for the ear. But for many of my neurological patients, music is even more - it can provide access, even when no medication can, to movement, to speech, to life. For them, music is not a luxury, but a necessity.”
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“Anyone whose goal is 'something higher' must expect someday to suffer vertigo. What is vertigo? Fear of falling? No, Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves.”
― The Unbearable Lightness of Being
― The Unbearable Lightness of Being
“What do you think an artist is? An imbecile who only has eyes, if he is a painter, or ears if he is a musician, or a lyre in every chamber of his heart if he is a poet, or even, if he is a boxer, just his muscles? Far from it: at the same time he is also a political being, constantly aware of the heartbreaking, passionate, or delightful things that happen in the world, shaping himself completely in their image. How could it be possible to feel no interest in other people, and with a cool indifference to detach yourself from the very life which they bring to you so abundantly? No, painting is not done to decorate apartments. It is an instrument of war.”
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“A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”
― Dubliners
― Dubliners
500 Essential Graphic Novels
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A group for anyone reading the recommendations of 500 Essential Graphic Novels by Gene Kannenberg, Jr. Whether you're dipping in here or there, or tr ...more
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— last activity Jul 27, 2016 02:19PM
A group for brave souls and dedicated bibliophiles committed to developing a healthy reading habit. Inspired by http://putthingsoff.com/one-book-a-we ...more
Paul’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Paul’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
253 books
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765 friends
9,614 books
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1,750 friends
2,673 books
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71 friends
748 books
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137 friends
1,107 books
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50 friends
4,097 books
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1,071 friends
2,424 books
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1,724 friends
461 books
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2,020 friends
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