Mirjam

“Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour--landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one's hair! Shot out at the feet of God entirely naked! Tumbling head over heels in the asphodel meadows like brown paper parcels pitched down a shoot in the post office! With one's hair flying back like the tail of a race-horse. Yes, that seems to express the rapidity of life, the perpetual waste and repair; all so casual, all so haphazard...
But after life. The slow pulling down of thick green stalks so that the cup of the flower, as it turns over, deluges one with purple and red light. Why, after all, should one not be born there as one is born here, helpless, speechless, unable to focus one's eyesight, groping at the roots of the grass, at the toes of the Giants?”
― Virginia Woolf

“It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.”
― Oscar Wilde

“Sõnade teed on mõnikord imelikud, nende teed on kõige imelikumad teed, mida inimvaim käinud. Sõnades on ikka palju seda, mida rääkija sugugi ei mõtle, sõna toob sagedasti vastuse, mida mõtleja kõige vähem aimanud. Nõnda ka täna, kui keegi joomisel hakkas rääkima mingisugusest inimlikust tõest.
„Kõik tõed on inimlikud,“ vastati kõikteadvalt.
„Mis tähendab inimlik?“
„Inimlik tähendab humaanlik.“
„Aga humaanlik?“
„Et on olemas inimlikud asjad, aga mitte inimest.“
„On olemas inimlik tõde, inimlik õigus, inimlik vagadus, inimlik kurjus ja muud niisugused asjad, aga inimest ennast ei ole.“
„Aga kes siis on?“
„On hiinlased, jaapanlased, neegrid, venelased, türklased, sakslased, inglased, on isegi lätlased ja eestlased; on ametnikud, professorid, üliõpilased, kodanikud, ajakirjanikud, kirjanikud ja poepoisid, aga inimest ei ole.”
― A.H. Tammsaare, Kärbes

“Unexpected intrusions of beauty. This is what life is.”
― Saul Bellow, Herzog