Vertigos Y Quotes & Sayings

Writing makes it even harder than concrete. Writing makes it hard as diamond. — Caitlin R. Kiernan

Trust your feelings. If the path you're on isn't providing you joy, satisfaction, creativity, love, and caring, that's not it. — Susan Jeffers

ALL THESE WORLDS ARE YOURS, EXCEPT EUROPA.
ATTEMPT NO LANDING THERE.
USE THEM TOGETHER. USE THEM IN PEACE. — Arthur C. Clarke

Anyone
who fights with monsters should take care that he
does not in the process become a monster. — NIETZSCHE FRIEDRICH WILHELM

The aim of living is life itself. — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Moneo has discovered it is pointless to live in the past, impossible to live in the future, and difficult to live in the present. — Frank Herbert

The average citizen of Oceania never sets eyes on a citizen of either Eurasia or Eastasia, and he is forbidden the knowledge of foreign languages. If he were allowed contact with foreigners he would discover that they are creatures similar to himself and that most of what he has been told about them is lies — George Orwell

If it all happens naturalistically, what's the need for a God? Can't I set my own rules? Who owns me? I own myself. — Jeffrey Dahmer

It was language I loved, not meaning. I liked poetry better when I wasn't sure what it meant. Eliot has said that the meaning of the poem is provided to keep the mind busy while the poem gets on with its work
like the bone thrown to the dog by the robber so he can get on with his work ... Is beauty a reminder of something we once knew, with poetry one of its vehicles? Does it give us a brief vision of that 'rarely glimpsed bright face behind/ the apparency of things'? Here, I suppose, we ought to try the impossible task of defining poetry. No one definition will do. But I must admit to a liking for the words of Thomas Fuller, who said: 'Poetry is a dangerous honey. I advise thee only to taste it with the Tip of thy finger and not to live upon it. If thou do'st, it will disorder thy Head and give thee dangerous Vertigos. — P.K. Page

In the feudal fiefdom of school, rank was determined early. You could change your hair and clothes. You could, having learned your lesson, not write a paper on Julius Caesar entirely in iambic pentameter or you could not tell anyone if you did. You could switch to contact lenses, compensate for your braininess by not doing your homework. Every boy in school could grow twelve inches. The sun could go fucking nova. And you'd still be the same grotesque you'd always been. — Karen Joy Fowler