
When I come across a long lost book, for example I flip to random pages and see if they have anything to tell me.
from Keep Going by Austin Kleon, 2019

When I come across a long lost book, for example I flip to random pages and see if they have anything to tell me.
from Keep Going by Austin Kleon, 2019
All kinds of unnatural conditions are developing daily among us, in such a way that man ceases to feel any longer that he is in every respect a being that belongs to nature and to himself, and becomes more and more a creature submissive to society.
from The Wisdom of Albert Schweitzer, A Selection printed in 1968
The more thrilling, wonderful, divine objects I behold in a day, the more expanded and immortal I become.
from The Journal 1837–1861 by Henry David Thoreau
On days like this, the clouds probably absorbed the sounds from the surface of the earth. And not just sounds. All kinds of things. Perceptions, for example.
From, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, 1997
“Oh, it’s so beautiful!”
“No way, I’ve waited all this time, I’m getting in…”
“Santa, I know just how you feel.”
“It’s just magical…”
“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
“There’s just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we’ve ever imagined…”
from The Hours by Michael Cunningham
“…I’ve discovered over the years that the simplist explanation is almost always the right one; and that hunger of one kind or another–desire, by another name– is the source of almost every sorrow.”
From the book, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud
“You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life. Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?”
Clarence speaking to George from the movie, It’s a Wonderful Life, produced and directed by Frank Capra, 1946
“I like the word clandestine. It feels medieval. Sometimes I think of words as being alive. If clandestine were alive, it would be a pale little girl with hair the color of fall leaves and a dress as white as the moon. ”
from the novel, Tell the Wolves I’m Home by Carol Rifka Brunt