All - Quotes
The perfect date is the one where anything and everything goes wrong, but at the end of it, all you want is to see them again.
Most of us consider the internet to be like the air that we breathe and the water that we drink. It surrounds us. We use it. And we don` t question it. But this is not a natural landscape. Programmers and executives and editors and designers, they make this landscape. They are human beings and they all make choices.
Everyone can be jealous. We all have that in us. Push the demon down or it`s going to drive the other person away.
Almost all of our sorrows spring out of our relations with other people.
We all require and want respect, man or woman, black or white. It`s our basic human right.
You ever have a thing with someone that never seems to really be over, even when it is? Rumi says, "Lovers never meet. They`re in each other all along."
Orange Is the New Black (movie)
You raised me to respect the truth. To know it is the root of all virtue.
The Internet is the world`s largest library. It`s just that all the books are on the floor.
Our present swarms with traces of our past. We are histories of ourselves, narratives. I am not this momentary mass of flesh reclined on the sofa typing the letter a on my laptop; I am my thoughts full of the traces of the phrases that I am writing; I am my mother`s caresses, and the serene kindness with which my father calmly guided me; I am my adolescent travels; I am what my reading has deposited in layers in my mind; I am my loves, my moments of despair, my friendships, what I`ve written, what I`ve heard; the faces engraved on my memory. I am, above all, the one who a minute ago made a cup of tea for himself. The one who a moment ago typed the word "memory" into his computer. The one who just composed the sentence that I am now completing. If all this disappeared, would I still exist? I am this long, ongoing novel. My life consists of it.
In the mountains, we see a valley covered by a sea of white clouds. The surface of the clouds gleams, immaculate. We start to walk toward the valley. The air becomes more humid, then less clear; the sky is no longer blue. We find ourselves in a fog. Where did the well-defined surface of the clouds go? It vanished. Its disappearance is gradual; there is no surface that separates the fog from the sparse air of the heights. Was it an illusion? No, it was a view from afar. Come to think of it, it`s like this with all surfaces. This dense marble table would look like a fog if I were shrunk to a small enough, atomic scale. Everything in the world becomes blurred when seen close up. Where exactly does the mountain end and where do the plains begin? Where does the savannah begin and the desert end? We cut the world into large slices. We think of it in terms of concepts that are meaningful for us, that emerge at a certain scale.