Vincent van Gogh

For my part, I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of stars makes me dream.

Man Walks Into a Room

He wouldn’t simply allow things to happen to him anymore.  He was alive, and for the first time since he’d woken out of the slumber of his past life, he felt it.  It was not that he was painfully aware of each moment, as he had been upon waking from the operation.  It seemed to him now that it was probably only the dying who saw the world with such precise and formal clarity as that, knowing it was already lost to them.  No, this was something different, as if at some point in the hazy bacchanal of the night he had been handed back his life.  A moment of reprieve, his heart bursting with a high-spirited hope, hammering it’s percussion in his chest.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles

Stranded in this mill town railroad yard while the whole world was converging elsewhere, we seemed to be nothing but children playing among heroic men.

William Hazlitt

Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be.

Veronika Decides to Die by Paulo Coelho

I was beginning to enjoy the sun again, the mountains, even life’s problems, I was beginning to accept that the meaninglessness of life was no one’s fault but mine. I wanted to…feel hatred and love, despair and tedium, all those simple, foolish things that make up everyday life, but which give pleasure to your existence. If one day I could get out of here, I would allow myself to be mad, because everyone is, indeed, the maddest are the ones who don’t know they’re mad, but keep repeating what others tell them to.

Sylvia Plath's Journals

Writing makes me a small God: I re-create the flux and smash of the world through the small ordered word patterns I make. I have powerful physical, intellectual and emotional forces which must have outlets, creative, or they turn to destruction and waste.

George Bernard Shaw

People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can't find them, make them.

The Varieties of Scientific Experience: A Personal View of the Search for God by Carl Sagan

Does trying to understand the universe at all betray a lack of humility? I believe it is true that humility is the only just response in a confrontation with the universe, but not a humility that prevents us from seeking the nature of the universe we are admiring. If we seek that nature, then love can be informed by truth instead of being based on ignorance or self-deception. If a Creator God exists, would He or She or It or whatever the appropriate pronoun is, prefer a kind of sodden blockhead who worships while understanding nothing? Or would He prefer His votaries to admire the real universe in all its intricacy? I would suggest that science is, at least in part, informed worship. My deeply held belief is that if a god of anything like the traditional sort exists, then our curiosity and intelligence are provided by such a god. We would be unappreciative of those gifts if we suppressed our passion to explore the universe and ourselves. On the other hand, if such a traditional god does not exist, then our curiosity and our intelligence are the essential tools for managing our survival in an extremely dangerous time. In either case the enterprise of knowledge is consistent surely with science; it should be with religion, and it is essential for the welfare of the human species. 

The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac

All the aching muscles and the hunger in my belly were bad enough, and the surroundant dark rocks, the fact that there is nothing there to soothe you with kisses and soft words, but just to be sitting there meditating and praying for the world with another earnest young man—‘twere good enough to have been born just to die, as we all are. Something will come of it in the Milky Ways of eternity stretching in front of all our phantom unlaundered eyes, friends.

Like Life by Lorrie Moore

She knew there were only small joys in life - the big ones were too complicated to be joys when you got all through - and once you realized that, it took a lot of the pressure off.  You could put the pressure aside, like a child’s game, its box ripped to flaps at the corners.  You could stick it in some old closet and forget about it.

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

Then he suddenly saw clearly that he was leading a strange life, that he was doing many things that were only a game, that he was quite cheerful and sometimes experienced pleasure, but that real life was flowing past him and did not touch him. Like a player who plays with his ball, he played with business, with the people around him, watched them, derived amusement from them; but with his heart, with his real nature, he was not there.

The Earth Turned to Bring Us Closer by Eugenio Montejo

The earth turned to bring us closer,


it spun on itself and within us, 
and

finally joined us together in this dream


as written in the Symposium.
 Nights

passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
 time

passed in minutes and millennia.
 An ox

cart that was on its way to Nineveh
 arrived

in Nebraska.
 A rooster was singing some

distance from the world, 
in one of the

thousand pre–lives of our fathers.
 The

earth was spinning with its music
 carrying

us on board;
 it didn't stop turning a single

moment 
as if so much love, so much that's

miraculous 
was only an adagio written long

ago 
in the Symposium’s score.