Cameren > Recent Status Updates

I've been tormented! I've been haunted, Nelly! But I begin to fancy you don't like me. How strange! I thought, though everybody hated and despised each other, they could not avoid loving me. And they have all turned to enemies...

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free; and laughing at injuries, not maddening under them! Why am I so changed? why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words?
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

"It’s no company at all, when people know nothing and say nothing,’ she muttered."
Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

In the twenty-first century censorship works by flooding people with irrelevant information.”
― Yuval Noah Harari, Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow

It is no shame to have a dirty face- the shame comes when you keep it dirty.
Truman Capote, In Cold Blood

I shall be an officer, or dead. If I am an officer, your fortune is certain, for I shall have money enough for both, and, moreover, a name we shall both be proud of, since it will be our own. If I am killed -- well then mother, you can also die, and there will be an end of our misfortunes.

"I do not say that children at war do not die like men, if they have to die. To their everlasting honor and our everlasting shame, they do die like men, thus making possible the manly jubilation of patriotic holidays. But they are murdered children all the same."
Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle

“Oh, man. The most selfish of all animals, the most personal of all creatures, who believes the earth turns, the sun shines, and death strikes for him alone,—an ant cursing God from the top of a blade of grass!”

As usual, the oldest women were the most decorated, and the ugliest the most conspicuous. If there was a beautiful lily, or a sweet rose, you had to search for it, concealed in some corner behind a mother with a turban, or an aunt with a bird of paradise.
Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

As usual, the oldest women were the most decorated, and the ugliest the most conspicuous. If there was a beautiful lily, or a sweet rose, you had to search for it, concealed in some corner behind a mother with a turban, or an aunt with a bird of paradise.
Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

As usual, the oldest women were the most decorated, and the ugliest the most conspicuous. If there was a beautiful lily, or a sweet rose, you had to search for it, concealed in some corner behind a mother with a turban, or an aunt with a bird of paradise.
Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

"A weakened mind always sees everything through a black veil. The soul makes its own horizons; your soul is dark, which is why you see such a cloudy sky."

"If, on the contrary, I die, remember, Maximilian, my corpse is that of an honest but unfortunate man. Living, my best friends would avoid my house; dead, all Marseilles will follow me in tears to my last home. Living, you would feel shame at my name; dead, you may raise your head and say, 'I am the son of him who killed himself, because, for the first time, he was compelled to fail in his word.'"

"...dressed in the most fantastic costumes — gigantic cabbages walk gravely about, buffaloes' heads below from men's shoulders, dogs walk on their hind legs; in the midst of all this a mask is lifted, and, as in Callot's Temptation of St. Anthony, a lovely face is exhibited, which we would fain follow..."

By making me a bitch, you have freed me from the trite, sexist, bourgeois prison of “likeability.” Any idiot can be liked. It takes talent to scare the crap out of people.
Alison Arngrim, Confessions of a Prairie Bitch

To ADHD-ize Einstein’s famous quote, never try to remember something if you can write it down instead. My rule is that if I can write it down, I should write it down. This applies every bit as much to routine activities, like wiping down the countertops, as it does to remembering my online banking passwords.

As long as he fought imaginary giants, Don Quixote was just play-acting. However once he actually kills someone, he will cling to his fantasies for all he is worth, because only they give meaning to his tragic misdeed. Paradoxically, the more sacrifices we make for an imaginary story, the more tenaciously we hold on to it, because we desperately want to give meaning to those sacrifices.

Among them was a seasoned psychiatrist who told Janis he had lost faith in the go-to intervention for depression. “I’ve been in an existential dilemma as a psychiatrist because I’m pained every time I write another script for Prozac or Zoloft,” Janis recalled the man saying. “I know it’s numbing out their symptoms, but it’s not getting to the heart of the matter.

... she was of the belief that a kind omission is worth more than a pointless truth...

And along the streets the blood of the children flowed simply, like the blood of children…Come and see the blood in the streets, come and see the blood in the streets.

WTF DID I JUST READ

Was there ever a more fortunate person? I had fields, vineyards, olive groves, a two-story house. A respected man of property. My wife was obedient, gave birth to sons, never lifted her eyes to look me in the face. My children & grandchildren turned out well. I have no complaints. What more could I want? I’ve put down deep roots. Yet if I were to be born again, I’d tie a stone around my neck and fall into the sea.

Man’s heart is a ditch full of blood. The loved ones who have died throw themselves down on the bank of this ditch to drink the blood and so come to life again; the dearer they are to you, the more of your blood they drink. -