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4 hours ago, Nashan'Elin said:

"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” -C.S. Lewis

Love this. Reading a ton of Lewis right now. It's great. 

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It seemed to me that every adult did something terrible sooner or later. And every child, I thought, sooner or later becomes an adult.

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We are all told to ignore bullies. It's something they teach you, and the can teach you anything. It doesn't mean you learn it. It doesn't mean you believe it. One should never ignore bullies. One should stop them.

~ Lemony Snicket, Where Did You See Her Last?

Edited by The Honor Spren
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5 hours ago, Queen Elsa Steelheart said:

"The past is in the past"

Upvotes goes to someone who gets the very hard reference :P 

.....is it Frozen?

"There's always another secret."

Eh, I like it, so I'll use it.

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23 hours ago, Queen Elsa Steelheart said:

"The past is in the past"

Upvotes goes to someone who gets the very hard reference :P 

Literally as soon as I read the quote, the song started playing in my head. Not that hard, especially knowing that you posted it. XD

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2 hours ago, Darkness Ascendant said:

I just read that as Violent Pug, and all my concept of space-time and my delusions of reality just fell apart around me.

I am a broken man.

I did the same, but didn't notice until I've read your post :P

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@A Budgie I'd love to know what's so amusing about my Playlist. It's rather boring, not amusing :P

But to not go off-topic, my favorite quotes that come to my mind:

Yoda: Do or do not, there is no try. 

 

Luke: I don't believe it!

Yoda: This is why you fail.

 

No idea who: whether you think you can or can't do something, you're right. 

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I'll be a bit naughty here and post my favorite quotes from Book of the New Sun, one of the most sublimely written pieces of fiction in existence. Because it has SO many pieces of divine prose I'll spoiler it. 

Spoiler

In the end I looked, having drained the dregs of pleasant dread

 

There is really no describing the sensation of being watched. I have heard it called a prickling at the back of the neck, and even a consciousness of eyes that seem to float in darkness, but it is neither - at least, not for me. It is something akin to a sourceless embarrassment, coupled with the feeling that I must not turn around, because to turn will be to appear a fool, answering the promptings of baseless intuition.

 

It was absurd, yet there was an element of truth in it, as in so many absurdities.

 

Art had been lavished upon her; but it is the function of art to render attractive and significant those things that without it would not be so, and so art had nothing to give her.

 

Agia's face was far from perfect now in the clear sunshine, but she had nothing to fear' from it. My hunger fed at least as ravenously upon her imperfections. She possessed the hopeful, hopeless courage of the poor, which is perhaps the most appealing of all human qualities; and I rejoiced in the flaws that made her more real to me.

 

Light is so weightless we have given its name to that condition

 

By the use of the Ianguage of sorrow I had for the time being obliterated my sorrow - so powerful is the charm of words, which for us reduces to manageable entities all the passions that would otherwise madden and destroy us.

 

There was a madness in his dull eyes, a shadow of some half-suppressed concern that had worn itself out in the prison of his mind until all its eagerness was gone and only its energy remained

 

Life, after all, is not a high thing, and in many ways is the reverse of purity. I am wise now, if not much older, and I know it is better to have all things, high and low, than to have the high only.

 

A crowd is not the sum of the individuals who compose it. Rather it is a species of animal, without language or real consciousness, born when they gather, dying when they depart.

 

The old, recalled emotions were too strong. I was trapped in admiration for what I had once admired, as a fly in amber remains the captive of some long-vanished pine.

 

'A legend, a lie, and a likelihood make a tradition'

 

There is no other difference between those who are called courageous and those who are branded craven than that the second are fearful before the danger and the first after it. persons we think cowardly will sometimes amaze us by their bravery, if they have had no forewarning of their danger

 

There is no magic. There is only knowledge, more or less hidden

 

All of us, I suppose, when we think we are talking most intimately to someone else, are actually addressing an image we have of the person to whom we believe we speak.

 

Even a seemingly purposeless miracle is an inexhaustible source of hope, because it proves to us that since we do not understand everything, our defeats —so much more numerous than our few and empty victories—may be equally specious.

 

If as is often said, the world is ordered to some plan (whether one formed prior to its creation or one derived during the billion aeons of its existence by the inexorable logic of order and growth makes no difference) then in all things there must be both the miniature representation of higher glories and the enhanced depiction of smaller matters

 

There is a payment made by Nature to those who undergo hardships; it is that the lesser ones, at which people whose lives have been easier would complain, seem almost comfortable

 

I had not known how solitary I had been since the boy died. It was more than mere loneliness, I think. I have never had much need for companionship, unless it was the companionship of someone I could call a friend. Certainly I have seldom wished the conversation of strangers or the sight of strange faces. I believe rather that when I was alone I felt I had in some fashion lost my individuality; to the thrush and the rabbit I had been not Severian, but Man. 

 

People who like to be utterly alone, and particularly to be utterly alone in a wilderness, do so, I believe, because they enjoy playing that part. But I wanted to be a particular person again, and so I sought the mirror of other persons, which would show me that I was not as they were

 

I found (and find) this suggestion as rational as it is repellent, and it represents for me all that monomaniacal fabric of argument, so tightly woven that not even the tiniest objection or spark of light can escape its net, in which human minds become enmeshed whenever the subject is one in which no appeal to fact is possible.

 

No quantity of money, no piling up of archipelagoes or empires could approach it in value any more than the indefinite multiplication of horizontal distance could be made to equal vertical distance.

 

Fear is like those diseases that disfigure the face with running sores. One becomes almost more afraid of their being seen than of their source, and comes to feel not only disgraced but defiled.

 

We have each of us in the dustiest cellars of our minds a counter at which we strive to repay the debts of the past with the debased currency of the present.

 

At its center, matter falls in upon itself, as though there were there a pit without bottom, whose top surrounds it.

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“There are many ways of fighting. Many a man or woman has waged a good war for truth, honor, and freedom, who did not shed blood in the process. Beware of those who would use violence, too often it is the violence they want and neither truth nor freedom.”  - Louis L'Amour, The Walking Drum
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