Midway upon the journey of our life,I found myself within a forest dark,For the straight foreward pathway had been lost. — Dante Alighieri, Inferno, the Divine Comedy (1320)
What is more dangerous than to become a poet? which is, as some say, an incurable and infectious disease. — Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote. Published by Francisco de Robles 1605 (Part One), 1615 (Part Two). Published in English 1612 (Part One), 1620 (Part Two).
We sit and talk,quietly, with long lapses of silenceand I am aware of the streamthat has no language, coursingbeneath the quiet heaven ofyour eyeswhich has no speech ― William Carlos Williams, Paterson. (New Directions; Revised Edition edition April 17, 1995) Originally published 1946.
No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself… Continue reading Patrick Rothfuss
The future remains uncertain and so it should, for it is the canvas upon which we paint our desires. Thus always the human condition faces a beautifully empty canvas. We possess only this moment in which to dedicate ourselves continuously to the sacred presence which we share and create. ― Frank Herbert, Children of Dune. … Continue reading Frank Herbert
I empty myself with lightUntil I become morning. — Charles Wright, from “33,” Littlefoot: A Poem (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007)
Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense, and I’ll kiss you for it. — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment. (Everyman’s Library; 12th edition May 25, 1993) Originally published 1866.
When I was sixteen, I won a great victory. I felt in that moment I would live to be a hundred. Now I know I shall not see thirty. None of us know our end, really, or what hand will guide us there. A king may move a man, a father may claim a son,… Continue reading Edward Norton
It´s a good thing when a man is different from your image of him. It shows he isn´t a type. If he were, it would be the end of him as a man. But if you can´t place him in a category, it means that at least a part of him is what a human… Continue reading Boris Pasternak
There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke, though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects that the joke is at nobody’s expense but his own. ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick; or, The… Continue reading Herman Melville