{"id":14044,"date":"2023-03-21T02:50:53","date_gmt":"2023-03-21T01:50:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/an-enormous-amount-of-quotes-about-life-from-many-people\/"},"modified":"2023-03-21T02:50:53","modified_gmt":"2023-03-21T01:50:53","slug":"an-enormous-amount-of-quotes-about-life-from-many-people","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/an-enormous-amount-of-quotes-about-life-from-many-people\/","title":{"rendered":"An Enormous Amount Of Quotes About Life From Many People"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&#8220;I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief<br \/>\nduty to accomplish small tasks as if they were great and noble.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Helen Keller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is amazing how much people can get done if they do not worry<br \/>\nabout who gets the credit.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Sandra Swinney<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t know anything about luck.  I&#8217;ve never banked on it, and<br \/>\nI&#8217;m afraid of people who do.  Luck to me is something else:  hard<br \/>\nwork and realizing what it opportunity and what isn&#8217;t.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Lucille Ball<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;My parents always told me that people will never know how long<br \/>\nit takes you to do something.  They will only know how well it is<br \/>\ndone.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Nancy Hanks<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;While I was in Ann Arbor I heard that Boston was a good place to<br \/>\nplay acoustic music because they still had plenty of clubs.  So I<br \/>\nmoved to Cambridge.  I roomed with a Harvard student.  I got an<br \/>\napartment the first day I got to town by going to Harvard<br \/>\nhousing, so I could get cheaper rates, $80 a month or something.<br \/>\nI even went to some Harvard classes, just to sit in, because I<br \/>\nenjoyed the performance of the professors.  The teachers were<br \/>\nalways so theatrical at Harvard, intelligent show business<br \/>\npeople, that could keep your attention, and that I think, is the<br \/>\ngreat advantage of Harvard.  So I used to go for the show, no<br \/>\nmatter what subject it was.  You could just drop in to a class<br \/>\nand watch, it wouldn&#8217;t matter if you went to the school.  No one<br \/>\neven asked.  The show was good and you would learn something, but<br \/>\nyou wouldn&#8217;t get any credit for it.  I didn&#8217;t need the credit.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Negative Theatre 87)<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He who angers you enslaves you.&#8221;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;In three words, I can sum up everything I know about life: it<br \/>\ngoes on.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Robert Frost<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Shame is the lie someone told you about yourself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Ana\u8650 Nin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Remember, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did,<br \/>\nbut she did it backwards and in high heels.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Faith Whittlesey<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Your real duty is to save your dream.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Mogdiliani<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If there is no wind, row.&#8221;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;One good deed dying tongueless slaughters a thousand waiting<br \/>\nupon that.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;William Shakespeare<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There is danger in reckless change; but greater danger in blind<br \/>\nconservatism.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Henry George<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or<br \/>\nhow.  The moment you know how, you begin to die a little.  The<br \/>\nartist never entirely known.  We guess.  We may be wrong, but we<br \/>\ntake leap after leap in the dark.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Agnes de Mille<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The known is finite, the unknown infinite; intellectually we<br \/>\nstand on an islet in the midst of an illimitable ocean of<br \/>\ninexplicability.  Our business in every generation is to reclaim<br \/>\na little more land.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;T. H. Huxley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The fact that someone says something doesn&#8217;t mean it&#8217;s true.<br \/>\nDoesn&#8217;t mean they&#8217;re lying, but it doesn&#8217;t mean it&#8217;s true.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Carl Sagan<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I shall live badly if I do not write, and I shall write badly if<br \/>\nI do not live.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Francoise Sagan<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I tell you:  one must have chaos in one to give birth to a<br \/>\ndancing star.  I tell you:  you still have chaos in you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Friedrich Nietzsche<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Often the real test of courage is not to die, but to live.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Vittorio Alfieri<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The right to express our thoughts means something only if we are<br \/>\nable to have thoughts of our own.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Erich Fromm<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The unexamined life is not worth living.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Socrates<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He loved to ask his mother questions.  It was the pleasantest<br \/>\nthing for him to ask a question and then to hear what answer his<br \/>\nmother would give.  Bambi was never surprised that question after<br \/>\nquestion should come into his mind continually and without<br \/>\neffort.  He found it perfectly natural, and it delighted him very<br \/>\nmuch.  It was very delightful too, to wait expectantly till the<br \/>\nanswer came.  If it turned out the way he wanted, he was<br \/>\nsatisfied.  Sometimes, of course, he did not understand, but that<br \/>\nwas pleasant also because he was kept busy picturing what he had<br \/>\nnot understood, in his own way.  Sometimes he felt very sure that<br \/>\nhis mother was not giving him a complete answer, was<br \/>\nintentionally not telling him all she knew.  And, at first, that<br \/>\nwas very pleasant, too.  For then there would remain in him such<br \/>\na lively curiosity, such suspicion, mysteriously and joyously<br \/>\nflashing through him, such anticipation, that he would become<br \/>\nanxious and happy at the same time, and grow silent.&#8221;  (Bambi 20-<br \/>\n21)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Felix Salten<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There are no words that can be spoken to shatter the darkness.<br \/>\nWhat is left is silence, and the dawn must creep at its own pace<br \/>\nas we wait.  There are no words for how we feel.  The silence of<br \/>\nthe night is the only thing that captures it, and dawn the only<br \/>\nthing to set it free.  So we wait&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Karla Jameson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When he drank his coffee, that was all he did.  If his com<br \/>\nchimed or there was a caller at the door, he ignored it.  He<br \/>\ndidn&#8217;t read the newsfax, nor even listen to any of his favourite<br \/>\nmusic.  His one cup deserved, and got, his full attention.  He&#8217;d<br \/>\nonce heard a story about a monastery on the top of some mountain<br \/>\nin Japan or somewhere.  After a long trek in the cold to get<br \/>\nthere, the monks would offer to sell you a cup of coffee.  You<br \/>\nhad a choice:  There was a two-dollar cup &#8212; or a two-hundred-<br \/>\ndollar cup.  When pressed to explain the difference, the monks<br \/>\nwere reported to say, &#8216;A hundred and ninety-eight dollars.'&#8221; (The<br \/>\nDigital Effect 21-22)<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Steve Perry<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A great attitude does much more than turn on the lights in our<br \/>\nworlds; it seems to magically connect us to all sorts of<br \/>\nserendipitous opportunities that were somehow absent before the<br \/>\nchange.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People are where they are because that&#8217;s exactly where they<br \/>\nreally want to be&#8230;whether they&#8217;ll admit that or not.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We can let circumstances rule us, or we can take charge and rule<br \/>\nour lives from within.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Your world is a living expression of how you are using and have<br \/>\nused your mind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Am I motivated by what I really want out of life &#8211; or am I mass-<br \/>\nmotivated?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All you need is the plan, the road map, and the courage to press<br \/>\non to your destination.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Success is the progressive realization of a worthy goal or<br \/>\nideal.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Whatever we plant in our subconscious mind and nourish with<br \/>\nrepetition and emotion will one day become a reality.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Earl Nightengale<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Other times I think about them, though &#8212; all this October I<br \/>\nhave done so, it seems, because October is the time when men<br \/>\nthink mostly about far places and the roads which might get them<br \/>\nthere.  I sit on the bench in front of Bell&#8217;s Market and think<br \/>\nabout Homer Buckland and about the beautiful girl who leaned over<br \/>\nto open his door when he come down that path with the full red<br \/>\ngasoline can in his right hand &#8212; she looked like a girl of no<br \/>\nmore than sixteen, a girl on her learner&#8217;s permit, and her beauty<br \/>\nwas terrible, but I believe it would no longer kill the man it<br \/>\nturned itself on; for a moment her eyes lit on me, I was not<br \/>\nkilled, although part of me died at her feet.&#8221; (Mrs. Todd&#8217;s)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Stephen King<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It means that no blue ribbon is forever.  Someday &#8212; if the<br \/>\nworld doesn&#8217;t explode itself in the meantime &#8212; someone will run<br \/>\na two-minute mile in the Olympics.  It make take a hundred years<br \/>\nor a thousand, but it will happen.  Because there is no ultimate<br \/>\nblue ribbon.  There is zero, and there is eternity, and there is<br \/>\nmortality, but there is no ultimate.&#8221;  (Mrs.  Todd&#8217;s Shortcut)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Stephen King<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The price of success is hard work, dedication to the job at<br \/>\nhand, and the determination that whether we win or lose, we have<br \/>\napplied the best of ourselves to the task at hand.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Vince Lombardi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What this power is I cannot say; all I know is that it exists<br \/>\nand it becomes available only when a man is in that state of mind<br \/>\nin which he knows exactly what he wants and is fully determined<br \/>\nnot to quit until he finds it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Alexander Graham Bell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Only a man who knows what it is like to be defeated can reach<br \/>\ndown to the bottom of his soul and come up with the extra  ounce<br \/>\nof power it takes to win when the match is even.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Muhammad Ali<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;This environment [New York] is heaven.  I love walking down the<br \/>\nstreet and seeing faces and drama and happiness and sadness and<br \/>\ndirt and cleanliness.  I could never be a country person, sitting<br \/>\naround trees trying to write a song.  I would rather be in the<br \/>\nmiddle of society, whether it&#8217;s growing or crumbling.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If a life could have a theme song &#8212; and I believe every<br \/>\nworthwhile one has &#8212; mine is a religion, an obsession, a mania<br \/>\nor all of these expressed in one word &#8212; individualism.  I was<br \/>\nborn with that obsession, and I&#8217;ve never seen and do not know now<br \/>\na cause more worthy, more misunderstood, more seemingly hopeless<br \/>\nand tragically needed.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Diplomacy is the art of saying &#8216;nice doggie&#8217; until you can find<br \/>\na rock.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Will Rogers<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Congress, our leaders, voted against a proposal to have a<br \/>\nnational seven day waiting period to buy a gun.  I don&#8217;t want to<br \/>\nsound like a Quaker, but when you think about it, is a week a<br \/>\nlong time to wait?  To see if a former mental patient is<br \/>\nqualified to own an Uzi?  Con one, will ya Congress?  It takes<br \/>\nthree weeks to get a phone!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Jimmy Tingle<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Some people are born on third base and go through life thinking<br \/>\nthey hit a triple.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Barry Switzer<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I used to think I was poor.  Then they told me I wasn&#8217;t poor, I<br \/>\nwas needy.  Then they told me it was self-defeating to think of<br \/>\nmyself as needy.  I was deprived.  (Oh not deprived but rather<br \/>\nunderprivileged.)  Then they told me that underprivileged was<br \/>\noverused.  I was disadvantaged.  I still don&#8217;t have a dime.  But<br \/>\nI have a great vocabulary.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Jules Feiffer<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Faith is a cop-out.  It is intellectual bankruptcy.  If the only<br \/>\nway you can accept an assertion is by faith, then you are<br \/>\nconceding that it can&#8217;t be taken on its own merits.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Dan Barker<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you think education is expensive, try ignorance.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Derek Bok<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A man&#8217;s ethical behaviour should be based effectually on<br \/>\nsympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is<br \/>\nnecessary.  Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be<br \/>\nrestrained by fear of punishment and hope of reward after death.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Albert Einstein<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Every time you meet a situation, though you think at the moment<br \/>\nit is an impossibility and you go through the tortures of the<br \/>\ndamned, once you have met it and lived through it you find that<br \/>\nforever after you are freer than you were before.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Eleanor Roosevelt<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think life is really hard sometimes.  It&#8217;s not easy to wake up<br \/>\nevery day and go through what you go through.  But the beautiful<br \/>\nmoments that you share with people that you love, or even<br \/>\nexperience alone, are worth all of the pain and sorrow.  Those<br \/>\nmoments should be cherished, and I think that&#8217;s what music is all<br \/>\nabout-to remind people of the beautiful moments that are in<br \/>\neverybody&#8217;s life.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Charlie Haden<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Some people would say my paintings show a future world and maybe<br \/>\nthey do, but I paint from reality.  I put several things and<br \/>\nideas together, and perhaps, when I have finished, it could show<br \/>\nthe future.  If people want to interpret my work as warnings<br \/>\nabout too much overpopulation, disease and mechanization in the<br \/>\nfuture, then that is up to them.  I like to combine human beings,<br \/>\ncreatures and biomechanics.  And I love to work with bones &#8212;<br \/>\nthey are elemental and function and, after all, are part of human<br \/>\nbeings.  I have many bones in my home in Zurich, and I study them<br \/>\nand use them as models.  Some people say my work is often<br \/>\ndepressing and pessimistic, with the emphasis on death, blood,<br \/>\novercrowding, strange beings and so on, but I don&#8217;t really think<br \/>\nit is.  There is hope and a kind of beauty in there somewhere, if<br \/>\nyou look for it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;H. R. Giger<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It was all very well to say, &#8216;Drink me,&#8217; but the wise little<br \/>\nAlice was not going to do that in a hurry.  &#8216;No, I&#8217;ll look<br \/>\nfirst,&#8217; she said, &#8216;and see whether it&#8217;s marked &#8216;Poison&#8217; or not.&#8217;<br \/>\nFor she had read several nice little stories about children who<br \/>\nhad got burnt and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant<br \/>\nthings, all because they would not remember the simple rules<br \/>\ntheir friends had taught them:  that a red-hot poker will burn<br \/>\nyou if you hold it too long, and that if you cut your finger very<br \/>\ndeeply with a knife, it usually bleeds.  And she had never<br \/>\nforgotten that if you drink too much from a bottle marked<br \/>\n&#8216;Poison,&#8217; it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or<br \/>\nlater.&#8221;  (Alice in Wonderland 13-14)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Lewis Carrol<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;One of the expressions of Western over-reliance on technology<br \/>\ncan be seen in the lack of patience in industrial society.  When<br \/>\nyou deal with technology, everything happens at the touch of a<br \/>\nbutton.  This conditions you to become so impatient that when you<br \/>\nhave an emotional or personal crisis, you don&#8217;t allow time for<br \/>\nthe solution to take effect.  This leads to all sorts of rash<br \/>\nresponses, like quarrels, fights and so on.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                 &#8211;the Dali Lama (Lhamo Dhondrub)<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I agree that the fear of American cultural imperialism is shared<br \/>\nby many people, and I agree with your point about the invasive<br \/>\nnature of television culture.  But I wouldn&#8217;t draw the next<br \/>\ninference:  that this is negative and therefore it must be<br \/>\nstopped.  I feel that one should address this influence in a way<br \/>\nthat takes away the negative edge through a positive counter-<br \/>\nresponse.  This way, you reinforce and reaffirm your conviction<br \/>\nin the inner values.  You harness those beliefs and develop them<br \/>\nwith a greater degree of self-awareness.  That&#8217;s the kind of<br \/>\nresponse people should have, instead of rejecting technology.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                 &#8211;the Dali Lama (Lhamo Dhondrub)<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;In contemporary American public culture, the legacy of the<br \/>\nconsumer revolution of the 1960s is unmistakable.  Today, there<br \/>\nare few things more beloved of our masses than the figure of the<br \/>\ncultural rebel, the defiant individualist resisting the mandates<br \/>\nof the machine civilization.  Whether he is an athlete decked out<br \/>\nin a mowhawk and multiple-pierced ears, a policeman who plays by<br \/>\nhis own rules, an actor on a motorcycle, a soldier of fortune<br \/>\nwith explosive bow and arrow, or a rock star in leather jacket<br \/>\nand sunglasses, the rebel has become the paramount clich\ufffd of our<br \/>\npopular entertainment, and the pre-eminent symbol of the system<br \/>\nhe is supposed to be subverting.  In advertising especially, he<br \/>\nrules supreme.&#8221;  (The Conquest of Cool)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Thomas Frank<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;An invasion of armies can be resisted.  But not an idea whose<br \/>\ntime has come.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Victor Hugo<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Sometimes it seems like we&#8217;re all living in some kind of prison,<br \/>\nand the crime is how much we all hate ourselves.  It&#8217;s good to<br \/>\nget really dressed up once in a while and admit the truth &#8212; that<br \/>\nwhen you really look closely, people are so strange and so<br \/>\ncomplicated that they&#8217;re actually beautiful.  Possibly even me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;from My So-Called Life<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I just want them to feel inspired to live on the planet and not<br \/>\nget discouraged with life, and make sure that they pursue what<br \/>\nthey feel they ought to.  If they want to collect stamps, make<br \/>\nsure they collect stamps 100 percent of the time for 25 years.  I<br \/>\nthink the most important thing is to try to find work or<br \/>\nsomething that you love, but it&#8217;s also probably the hardest<br \/>\nthing.  Life in general is more generic and less artistic.  It&#8217;s<br \/>\na hard thing to pull your mind away from the shit and feel<br \/>\npositive about where things are going.  It depends on how much TV<br \/>\nnews you watch.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I believe that words can help us move or keep us paralysed, and<br \/>\nthat our choices of language and verbal tone have something &#8212; a<br \/>\ngreat deal &#8212; to do with how we live our lives and whom we end up<br \/>\nspeaking with and hearing; and that we can deflect words by<br \/>\ntrivialization, of course, but also by ritualized respect, or we<br \/>\ncan let them enter our souls and mix with the juices of our<br \/>\nminds.&#8221; (Toward a More Feminist Criticism)<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Adrienne Rich<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can&#8217;t believe I&#8217;m having this conversation&#8230; With you!<br \/>\nYou&#8217;ve probably never read a book in your life that wasn&#8217;t<br \/>\nwritten by John Grisham.  You don&#8217;t get it.  People like you are<br \/>\nso content to write-off English.  English just isn&#8217;t about<br \/>\nanalysing stories &#8212; if it was, I wouldn&#8217;t be like this.<br \/>\nStories, novels, whatever&#8230; reflect something about the<br \/>\nwriter&#8230; and the culture&#8230; and the society that it came from.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s a mirror &#8212; a mirror to ourselves.  And when we do it right,<br \/>\nwhen we just get it, we know something about ourselves.  English<br \/>\nis an understanding of the self.  If we can see ourselves<br \/>\nclearly, we know the right decision to make.  And if you don&#8217;t<br \/>\nknow who you are and make the wrong choices, what good is it if<br \/>\nyou can make two-hundred and fifty thousand?&#8221; (The Open Door)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Tyler Powell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Let me tell you something.  We&#8217;re all guilty of something.<br \/>\nCruelty or greed or going sixty-five in a fifty-five mile per<br \/>\nhour zone.  But you know what?  You want to think of yourself as<br \/>\nthe fair haired choir boy, you go ahead. &#8230; I&#8217;m saying you&#8217;ve<br \/>\ngot a darkness inside of you.  You&#8217;ve got to know the darker,<br \/>\nuglier sides of yourself.  You&#8217;ve got to recognize them so<br \/>\nthey&#8217;re not constantly sneaking up on you.  You&#8217;ve got to love<br \/>\nthem because they&#8217;re a part of you, because along with your<br \/>\nvirtues, they make you who you are.  Virtue isn&#8217;t virtue unless<br \/>\nit slams up against vice so, consequently, your virtue is not<br \/>\nreal virtue until it&#8217;s been tested&#8230; and tempted.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys<br \/>\nto fit our locks.  When we feel safe enough to open the locks,<br \/>\nour truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly<br \/>\nwho we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we&#8217;re<br \/>\npretending to be.  Each unveils the best part of the other.  No<br \/>\nmatter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we&#8217;re<br \/>\nsafe in our own paradise.  Our soulmate is someone who shares our<br \/>\ndeepest longings, our sense of direction.  When we&#8217;re two<br \/>\nballoons, and together our direction is up, chances are we&#8217;ve<br \/>\nfound the right person.  Our soulmate is the one who makes life<br \/>\ncome to life.&#8221; (Bridge 265)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What was the question? &#8230; Oh.  Where do I get my crazy ideas?<br \/>\nAnswer:  sleep-fairy, walk-fairy, shower-fairy.  Book-fairy.  And<br \/>\nin these last few years, from my wife.  Now when I have questions<br \/>\nI ask her and she tells me the answer.  If you haven&#8217;t already,<br \/>\nI&#8217;d suggest you want to find your soulmate, soon as you can.<br \/>\nNext question?&#8221; (Bridge 264)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;She didn&#8217;t mean to be sexy that moment, but even a winter<br \/>\nnightgown couldn&#8217;t hide that lovely outline.  When will I outgrow<br \/>\nmy simple-minded fascination with the form she had happened to<br \/>\nchoose for her body?  Never, I thought.&#8221; (Bridge 249)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What a story that would make!  How many men and women go through<br \/>\nthe same rivers, menaced by the same sharp clich\uff34, the same<br \/>\njagged dangers that have threatened us!  If the idea stands up, I<br \/>\nthought, it would be worth uncovering the typewriter!  How<br \/>\nRichard-years-ago would have wanted to know:  What happens when<br \/>\nwe set off searching for a soulmate who doesn&#8217;t exist, and find<br \/>\nher?&#8221; (Bridge 209)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;re different, we&#8217;re the same.  You thought you&#8217;d never find a<br \/>\nword to say to a woman who didn&#8217;t fly airplanes.  I couldn&#8217;t<br \/>\nimagine myself spending time with a man who didn&#8217;t love music.<br \/>\nCould it be it&#8217;s not as important to be alike as it is to be<br \/>\ncurious?  Because we&#8217;re different, we can have the fun of<br \/>\nexchanging worlds, giving our loves and excitements to each<br \/>\nother.  You can learn music, I can learn flying.  And that&#8217;s only<br \/>\nthe beginning.  I think it would go on for us as long as we<br \/>\nlive.&#8221; (Bridge 169)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If we change in different directions, then we don&#8217;t have any<br \/>\nfuture anyway, do we?  I think it&#8217;s possible for two people to<br \/>\nchange together, to grow together and enrich instead of diminish<br \/>\neach other.  The sum of one and one, if they&#8217;re the right ones,<br \/>\ncan be infinity!  But so often one person drags the other down;<br \/>\none person wants to go up like a balloon and the other&#8217;s a dead<br \/>\nweight.  I&#8217;ve always wondered what it would be like if both<br \/>\npeople, if a woman and a man both wanted to go up like balloons!&#8221;<br \/>\n(Bridge 168)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;That&#8217;s what learning is, after all:  not whether we lose the<br \/>\ngame, but how we lose and how we&#8217;ve changed because of it and<br \/>\nwhat we take away from it that we never had before, to apply to<br \/>\nother games.  Losing, in a curious way, is winning.&#8221; (Bridge 91)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Here&#8217;s how the people live here, in big house-shaped boxes to<br \/>\nkeep off &#8216;rain&#8217; and &#8216;snow,&#8217; holes cut in the sides so they can<br \/>\nsee out.  They move around in smaller boxes, painted different<br \/>\ncolours, with wheels on the corners.  They need this box-culture<br \/>\nbecause each person thinks of herself and himself as locked in a<br \/>\nbox called a &#8216;body,&#8217; arms and legs, fingers to move pencils and<br \/>\ntools, languages because they&#8217;ve forgotten how to communicate,<br \/>\neyes because they&#8217;ve forgotten how to see.  Odd little planet.<br \/>\nWish you were here.  Home soon.&#8221; (Bridge 85-6)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Two things I do value a lot, intimacy and the capacity for joy,<br \/>\ndidn&#8217;t seem to be on anyone else&#8217;s list.  I felt like the<br \/>\nstranger in a strange land, and decided I&#8217;d better not marry the<br \/>\nnatives.&#8221; (Bridge 76)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Other people think they know what you are:  glamour, sex, money,<br \/>\npower, love.  It may be a press agent dream which has nothing to<br \/>\ndo with you, maybe it&#8217;s something you don&#8217;t even like, but that&#8217;s<br \/>\nwhat they think you are.  People rush at you from all sides, they<br \/>\nthink they&#8217;re going to get these things if they touch you.  It&#8217;s<br \/>\nscary, so you build walls around yourself, thick glass walls<br \/>\nwhile you&#8217;re trying to think, trying to catch your breath.  You<br \/>\nknow who you are inside, but people outside see something<br \/>\ndifferent.  You can choose to become the image, and let go of who<br \/>\nyou are, or continue as you are and feel phony when you play the<br \/>\nimage.&#8221; (Bridge 72)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There are no mistakes.  The events we bring upon ourselves, no<br \/>\nmatter how unpleasant, are necessary in order to learn what we<br \/>\nneed to learn; whatever steps we take, they&#8217;re necessary to reach<br \/>\nthe places we&#8217;ve chosen to go.&#8221; (Bridge 56)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Part of us is always the observer, and no matter what, it<br \/>\nobserves.  It watches us.  It does not care if we are happy or<br \/>\nunhappy, if we are sick or well, if we live or die.  Its only job<br \/>\nis to sit there on our shoulder and pass judgment on whether we<br \/>\nare worthwhile human beings.&#8221; (The Bridge Across Forever 43)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We fear passion and laugh at too much love and those who love<br \/>\ntoo much. And still we long to feel.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;By the time the average person finishes college he or she will<br \/>\nhave taken over 2,600 tests, quizzes and exams.  The &#8216;right<br \/>\nanswer&#8217; approach becomes deeply ingrained in our thinking.  This<br \/>\nmay be fine for some mathematical problems, where there is in<br \/>\nfact only one right answer.  The difficulty is that most of life<br \/>\nisn&#8217;t that way. Life is ambiguous; there are many right answers &#8211;<br \/>\nall depending on what you are looking for.  But if you think<br \/>\nthere is only one right answer, then you&#8217;ll stop looking as soon<br \/>\nas you find one.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Roger von Oech<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You say I have no power?  Perhaps you speak truly&#8230; but you say<br \/>\nthat dreams have no power here?  Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar&#8230;<br \/>\nask yourselves, all of you&#8230; what power would hell have if those<br \/>\nhere imprisoned were not able to dream of heaven?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A friend is one before whom I may think aloud.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Ralph Waldo Emmerson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby<br \/>\nbecome a monster.  And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the<br \/>\nabyss gazes also into you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Friedrich Nietzsche<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If we keep doing what we&#8217;re doing, we&#8217;re going to keep getting<br \/>\nwhat we&#8217;re getting.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Stephen Covey<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Sally Kempton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We are faced with the paradoxical fact that education has become<br \/>\none of the chief obstacles to intelligence and freedom of<br \/>\nthought.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Bertrand Russell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Happiness is not in our circumstance but in ourselves.  It is<br \/>\nnot something we see, like a rainbow, or feel, like the heat of a<br \/>\nfire.  Happiness is something we are.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;John B. Sheerin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The self is not something that one finds, it is something that<br \/>\none creates.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Thomas Szasz<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s better to be boldly decisive and risk being wrong than to<br \/>\nagonize at length and be right too late.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Marilyn Moats Kennedy<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ll never know if you can win until you know you&#8217;ve tried<br \/>\nyour best&#8230; and then it doesn&#8217;t matter if you&#8217;ve won or not<br \/>\nbecause you will have improved, and that is winning for<br \/>\nyourself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Carolyn Meroniuk<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There are threads that help you find your way back, and there<br \/>\nare threads that intend to bring you back.  Mind turns to pull,<br \/>\nit&#8217;s hard to pull away.  I&#8217;m always thinking of going back.  When<br \/>\nLot&#8217;s wife looked over her shoulder, she turned into a pillar of<br \/>\nsalt.  Pillars hold things up, and salt keeps things clean, but<br \/>\nit&#8217;s a poor exchange for losing your self.  People do go back,<br \/>\nbut they don&#8217;t survive, because two realities are claiming them<br \/>\nat the same time.  Such things are too much.  You can salt your<br \/>\nheart, or kill your heart, or you can choose between the two<br \/>\nrealities.  There is much pain here.  Some people think you can<br \/>\nhave your cake and eat it.  The cake goes mouldy and they choke<br \/>\non what&#8217;s left.  Going back after a long time will make you mad,<br \/>\nbecause the people you left behind do not like to think of you<br \/>\nchanged, will treat you as they always did, accuse you of being<br \/>\nindifferent, when you are only different.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Of course that is not the whole story, but that is the way with<br \/>\nstories; we make them what we will.  It&#8217;s a way of explaining the<br \/>\nuniverse while leaving the universe unexplained, it&#8217;s a way of<br \/>\nkeeping it all alive, not boxing it into time.  Everyone who<br \/>\ntells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that<br \/>\neverybody sees it differently.  Some people say there are true<br \/>\nthings to be found, some people say all kinds of things can be<br \/>\nproved.  I don&#8217;t believe them.  The only thing for certain is how<br \/>\ncomplicated it all is, like string full of knots.  It&#8217;s all there<br \/>\nbut hard to find the beginning and impossible to fathom the end.<br \/>\nThe best you can do is admire the cat&#8217;s cradle, and maybe knot it<br \/>\nup a bit more.  History should be a hammock for swinging and a<br \/>\ngame for playing, the way cats play.  Claw it, chew it, rearrange<br \/>\nit and at bedtime it&#8217;s still a ball of string full of knots.<br \/>\nNobody should mind.  Some people make a lot of money out of it.<br \/>\nPublishers do well, people make a lot of money out of it.<br \/>\nPublishers do well, children, when bright, can come top.  It&#8217;s an<br \/>\nall-purpose rainy day pursuit, this reducing of stories called<br \/>\nhistory.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Since I was born I had assumed that the world ran on very simple<br \/>\nlines, like a larger version of our church.  Now I was finding<br \/>\nthat even the church was sometimes confused.  This was a problem.<br \/>\nBut not one I chose to deal with for many years more.  The<br \/>\nproblem there and then was what was going to happen to me.  The<br \/>\nVictoria Hospital was big and frightening, and I couldn&#8217;t even<br \/>\nsing to any effect because I couldn&#8217;t hear what I was singing.<br \/>\nThere was nothing to read except some dental notices and an<br \/>\ninstruction leaflet for the X-ray machine.  I tried to build an<br \/>\nigloo out of the orange peel but it kept falling down and even<br \/>\nwhen I stood up I didn&#8217;t have an Eskimo to put in it, so I had to<br \/>\ninvent a story about &#8216;How Eskimo Got Eaten&#8217;, which made me even<br \/>\nmore miserable.  It&#8217;s always the same with diversions; you get<br \/>\ninvolved.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The truth that makes men free is for the most part the truth<br \/>\nwhich men prefer not to hear.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;Herbert Sebastian Agar<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t know because I don&#8217;t think about it much in those terms.<br \/>\nI don&#8217;t think about what is the greatest thing that ever happened<br \/>\nto me.  It seems to me that things don&#8217;t last long anyway.  Your<br \/>\nhigh points and your low points.  High points don&#8217;t last that<br \/>\nlong, it&#8217;s a high and it happens.  It&#8217;s great at the moment but<br \/>\nyou really can&#8217;t live on it.  There&#8217;s gotta be something higher &#8211;<br \/>\n&#8211; and lower.  But I have all kinds of ups and downs, highs and<br \/>\nlows, I&#8217;m always chasing them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s only one opinion that counts.  It&#8217;s your opinion.  It<br \/>\nmay be wrong, but it&#8217;s yours and that&#8217;s the one that counts.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Filipe Alou<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The best thing you can do for a song is to hear it on the radio<br \/>\nand to imagine what it could mean to you and then kinda forget<br \/>\nthe words.  Just imagine how you felt when you heard it, if it<br \/>\nwas one of your songs.  If it became one of your songs.  If it<br \/>\nmeant whatever it meant for you and as soon as you see the<br \/>\nvisual, you get a rapid eye movement relationship with the song<br \/>\ninstead of an imaginative one.  I think that can be dangerous<br \/>\nbecause I don&#8217;t think I&#8217;d want to be listening to a song on the<br \/>\nradio and thinking about the video.  Whatever that one<br \/>\ninterpretation was.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Good and evil are not what our parents told us, not what our<br \/>\nchurch tells us, or our country, not what anybody else tells us!<br \/>\nAll of us decide good and evil for ourselves, automatically, by<br \/>\nchoosing what we want to do!&#8221;  (Running)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If we must lose wife or husband when we live to our highest<br \/>\nright, we lose an unhappy marriage as well, and we gain<br \/>\nourselves.  But if a marriage is born between two already self-<br \/>\ndiscovered, what a lovely adventure begins, hurricanes and all!&#8221;<br \/>\n(Running)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Life does not require us to be consistent, cruel, patient,<br \/>\nhelpful, angry, rational, thoughtless, loving, rash, open-minded,<br \/>\nneurotic, careful, rigid, tolerant, wasteful, rich, downtrodden,<br \/>\ngentle, sick, considerate, funny, stupid, healthy, greedy,<br \/>\nbeautiful, lazy, responsive, foolish, sharing, pressured,<br \/>\nintimate, hedonistic, industrious, manipulative, insightful,<br \/>\ncapricious, wise, selfish, kind or sacrificed.  Life does,<br \/>\nhowever, require us to live with the consequences of our<br \/>\nchoices.&#8221;  (Running)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For a moment, off balance, was I annoyed?  Anger is always fear,<br \/>\nI thought, and fear is always fear of loss.  Would I lose myself<br \/>\nif he made those choices?  It took a second to settle down:  I&#8217;d<br \/>\nlose nothing.  They&#8217;d be his wishes, not mine, and he&#8217;s free to<br \/>\nlive as he wants.  The loss would come if I dared force him,<br \/>\ntried to live for him and me as well.  There&#8217;d be disaster worse<br \/>\nthan life on a bar stool.&#8221; (Running from Safety)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Love, they say, enslaves and passion is a demon and many have<br \/>\nbeen lost for love.  I know this is true, but I know too that<br \/>\nwithout love we grope the tunnels of our lives and never see the<br \/>\nsun.  When I fell in love it was as though I looked into a mirror<br \/>\nfor the first time and saw myself.  I lifted my hand in<br \/>\nwonderment and felt my cheeks, my neck.  This was me.  And when I<br \/>\nhad looked at myself and grown accustomed to who I was, I was not<br \/>\nafraid to hate parts of me because I wanted to be worthy of the<br \/>\nmirror bearer.&#8221;  (Passion)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When I dream of a future in her arms no dark days appear, not<br \/>\neven a head cold, and though I know it&#8217;s nonsense I really<br \/>\nbelieve we would always be happy and that our children would<br \/>\nchange the world.&#8221; (Passion)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I was happy but happy is an adult world.  You don&#8217;t have to ask<br \/>\na child about happy, you see it.  They are or they are not.<br \/>\nAdults talk about being happy because largely they are not.,<br \/>\nTalking about it is the same as trying to catch the wind.  Much<br \/>\neasier to let it blow all over you.  This is where I disagree<br \/>\nwith the philosophers.  They talk about passionate things but<br \/>\nthere is no passion in them.  Never talk happiness with a<br \/>\nphilosopher.&#8221; (The Passion)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;They discovered that even in the face of pain that seems<br \/>\nunbearable, even in the face of pain that wrings the last drop<br \/>\nof blood out of your heart and leaves its scrimshaw tracery on<br \/>\nthe inside of your skull, life goes on.  And pain grows dull, and<br \/>\nbegins to fade.&#8221;  (Lost Souls)<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Poppy Z. Brite<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can&#8217;t heal your pain but I can see it.  And you don&#8217;t have to<br \/>\nbe lost.  Not forever.&#8221;  (Lost Souls)<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Poppy Z. Brite<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is the colour of light, the shape of sound, high in the<br \/>\nevergreens.<br \/>\n It lies suspended in hills, a blue line in a red sky.<br \/>\n I am looking at sound.<\/p>\n<p> I am hearing the brightness of high bluffs and almond trees.<br \/>\n I am tasting the wilderness of lakes, rivers and streams,<br \/>\n caught in an angle of sound.<\/p>\n<p> I am remembering water that glows in the dawn,<br \/>\n the motion tumbled in earth,<br \/>\n life hidden in mounds.<\/p>\n<p> I am dancing in a bright beam of light&#8230;<br \/>\n I am remembering love.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;from Love Jones<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Nobody stays here by faking reality in any manner whatever.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Atlas 735)<\/p>\n<p>                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The opening and middle game are vital but a player up two pieces<br \/>\nmight have a heart attack and have to forfeit.  The end game is<br \/>\nwhat counts.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Pablo Pedro Gomez<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The music of [his] Fifth Concerto streamed from his keyboard,<br \/>\npast the glass of the window, and spread through the air, over<br \/>\nthe lights of the valley.  It was a symphony of triumph.  The<br \/>\nnotes flowed up, they spoke of rising and they were the rising<br \/>\nitself, they were the essence and the form of upward motion, they<br \/>\nseemed to embody every human act and thought  that had ascent as<br \/>\nits motive.  It was a sunburst of sound, breaking out of hiding<br \/>\nand spreading open.  It had the freedom of release and the<br \/>\ntension of purpose.  It swept space clean and left nothing buy<br \/>\nthe joy of an unobstructed effort.  Only a faint echo within the<br \/>\nsounds spoke of that from which the music had escaped, bu spoke<br \/>\nin laughing astonishment at the discovery that there was no<br \/>\nugliness or pain, and there never had had to be.  It was the song<br \/>\nof an immense deliverance.&#8221;  (Atlas 1072)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Traditions exist so we can go beyond them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Greg Hawkes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The most important thing to a lot of people, is to belong to<br \/>\nsomething that&#8217;s hip or whatever.  To be a part of something<br \/>\nthat&#8217;s not society, just a clique.  And they get real sidetracked<br \/>\ntrying to think like everyone else.  They don&#8217;t realize that you<br \/>\nhave to motivate yourself to do things you want to do.  Some<br \/>\npeople just like going along for the ride.  And those are the<br \/>\nkind of people I don&#8217;t get along with too well.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Once they&#8217;re on paper, they&#8217;re gone.  I like to do as much with<br \/>\nthe words, as far as image goes, so that it&#8217;s really left open<br \/>\nfor a lot of things, even though I remember a specific impression<br \/>\nof something I had at the time.  I can&#8217;t say a song is about this<br \/>\nor that; in fact, I wouldn&#8217;t even want to.  I just prefer to have<br \/>\npeople live it anyway they want.  Because it&#8217;s theirs after that.<br \/>\nThere&#8217;s nothing I can do about it anymore.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To be under pressure is inescapable.  Pressure takes place<br \/>\nthrough all the world; war, siege, the worries of state.  We all<br \/>\nknow men who grumble under these pressures and complain.  They<br \/>\nare cowards.  They lack splendour.  But there is another sort of<br \/>\nman who is under the same pressure but does not complain, for it<br \/>\nis the friction which polishes him.  It is the pressure which<br \/>\nrefines and makes him noble.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;St. Augustine<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how<br \/>\nthe strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have<br \/>\ndone better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in<br \/>\nthe arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat; who strives<br \/>\nvaliantly; who errs and may fail again, because there is no<br \/>\neffort without error or shortcoming, but who does actually strive<br \/>\nto do the deeds; who does know the great enthusiasm, the great<br \/>\ndevotion; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best,<br \/>\nknows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at<br \/>\nworst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that<br \/>\nhis place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know<br \/>\nneither victory nor defeat.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Theodore Roosevelt<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Through music I either tame my demons or unleash them and allow<br \/>\nthem to be what they are.  I don&#8217;t want the music to be about<br \/>\nprovocation, I want the music to bring you to a place where you<br \/>\nfeel at home.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Michael Franti<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You can&#8217;t think of risks.  I have nothing to lose.  You either<br \/>\nmake something that you like, or you don&#8217;t, and you throw it to<br \/>\nthe universe.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Mike Myers<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Literature is my Utopia.  Here I am not disenfranchised.  No<br \/>\nbarrier of the senses shuts me out from the sweet, gracious<br \/>\ndiscourses of my book friends.  They talk to me without<br \/>\nembarrassment or awkwardness.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Helen Keller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Not the senses I have but what I do with them is my kingdom.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Helen Keller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature,<br \/>\nnor do the children of men as a while experience it.  Avoiding<br \/>\ndanger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.  Life<br \/>\nis either a daring adventure, or nothing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Helen Keller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People ignore the strange and unusual&#8230; I myself am strange and<br \/>\nunusual.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;from Beetlejuice<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means<br \/>\nthe most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of<br \/>\ngiving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to<br \/>\nshare our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender<br \/>\nhand.  The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of<br \/>\ndespair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief<br \/>\nand bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not<br \/>\nhealing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that<br \/>\nis a friend who cares.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Henri Nouwen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Do I avoid looking a stranger in the eyes because I don&#8217;t want<br \/>\nto make him uncomfortable, or do I turn my eyes so he can&#8217;t look<br \/>\ninto me?  What is in there that I don&#8217;t want him to see?&#8221; (Notes)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When someone disagrees with me, I do not have to immediately<br \/>\nstart revising what I just said.  People don&#8217;t want me to always<br \/>\nagree with them.  They can sense this is phony.  They can sense I<br \/>\nam trying to control them:  I am agreeing with them to make them<br \/>\nlike me.  They feel; &#8216;I don&#8217;t want to exist to like you.  I DON&#8217;T<br \/>\nexist to like you.'&#8221; (Notes)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Sometimes when I generalize I am saying, &#8216;Let&#8217;s pretend I am<br \/>\nGod,&#8217; and of course the other person argues that point endlessly.<br \/>\nBut I notice that if the other person takes a stand for himself<br \/>\nand states his thoughts as his thoughts, I pay more attention to<br \/>\nwhat he is saying and look deeper in myself.&#8221; (Notes)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Within me is the potential to commit every evil act I see being<br \/>\ncommitted by other men, and unless I feel this potential I can at<br \/>\nany moment be controlled by these same urges.  I am free from<br \/>\nthese urges only if I recognize when I am feeling them, and while<br \/>\nfeeling them and acknowledging them to be me, choose not to<br \/>\nfollow them.  Only in this way can I begin to regain the disowned<br \/>\nparts of me.  And only in this way can I know what it is I am<br \/>\ncriticizing in others.&#8221; (Notes)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I sometimes react to making a mistake as if I have betrayed<br \/>\nmyself.  My fear of making a mistake seems to be based on the<br \/>\nhidden assumption that I am potentially perfect and that if I can<br \/>\njust be very careful I will not fall from heaven.  But a<br \/>\n&#8216;mistake&#8217; is a declaration of the way I am, a jolt to the way I<br \/>\nintend, a reminder I am not dealing with the facts.  When I have<br \/>\nlistened to my mistakes I have grown.&#8221; (Notes)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Perfectionism is a slow death.  If everything were to just like<br \/>\nI would want it to, just like I would plan for it to, then I<br \/>\nwould never experience anything new; my life would be an endless<br \/>\nrepetition of stale successes.  When I make a mistake I<br \/>\nexperience something unexpected.&#8221; (Notes)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can not &#8216;make my mark&#8217; for all time &#8212; those concepts are<br \/>\nmutually exclusive.  &#8216;Lasting effect&#8217; is a self-contradictory<br \/>\nterm.  Meaning does not exist in the future and neither do I.<br \/>\nNothing will have meaning &#8216;ultimately.&#8217;  Nothing will even mean<br \/>\ntomorrow what it did today.  Meaning changes with the context.<br \/>\nMy meaningfulness is here.  It is enough that I am of value to<br \/>\nsomeone today.  It is enough that I make a difference now.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Notes to Myself)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For some reason, when we&#8217;re on tour all our dressing rooms have<br \/>\nblackboards.  So we chalk up New Laws of the Universe like, &#8216;What<br \/>\nis not there, will be,&#8217; and &#8216;All roads lead to other roads.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Greg Hawkes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Be more concerned with your character than your reputation,<br \/>\nbecause your character is what you really are, while your<br \/>\nreputation is merely what others think you are.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;John Wooden<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Men of genius are admired, men of wealth are envied, men of<br \/>\npower are feared; but only men of character are trusted.&#8221;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Dignity does not consist in possessing honours, but in deserving<br \/>\nthem.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Aristotle<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;re all very quiet for people running for their lives.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;from Press Gang<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I laugh, my voice spiralling into Forever<br \/>\n for I have found perfection<br \/>\n and it has always been right here<br \/>\n in the temple of Self&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Miranda Padgett<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People tend to think I&#8217;m always aggressive and strong.  The<br \/>\ntruth is, I&#8217;ve always been wracked with self-loathing, which<br \/>\nleads me into terrible, self paralysing depressions.  When I go<br \/>\ndown to this place, I feel so empty and overwhelmed I can barely<br \/>\nmove.  But perversely, I find these traits in a man unacceptable<br \/>\n&#8212; I can&#8217;t stand someone who can out-depress me.  You know that<br \/>\nscene in Babe where the farmer clog-dances for the pig?<br \/>\nSometimes I&#8217;m the sick pig and I need a farmer to cheer me up.<br \/>\nAnd when things get bad, my boyfriend does dance for me, and it<br \/>\nnever fails to make me laugh.  He&#8217;s a pretty snappy dancer.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Shirley Manson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Remember, beneath every cynic there lies a romantic, and<br \/>\nprobably an injured one.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Glenn Beck<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Every great and commanding movement in the annals of the world<br \/>\nis the triumph of enthusiasm.  Nothing great was ever achieved<br \/>\nwithout it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Ralph Waldo Emerson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If there were a mile high mountain of granite, and once every<br \/>\nten-thousand years a bird flew past and brushed it with a<br \/>\nfeather, by the time that mountain was worn away, a fraction of a<br \/>\nsecond would have passed in the context of eternity.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Lois Duncan<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People.  I knew some of them, but not now.  On the moon, I<br \/>\nwander among the many pot holes.  Their shadows make me feel<br \/>\nplanet-stricken.  Display model #1:  Clusters of magnetic<br \/>\nliquids.  I would like to uncover the mystery of the scrim.  Will<br \/>\nI rise to the occasion when it decides to fall by?  A tiny<br \/>\nwalled-off angel lays an egg.  A secret life-the ruminations of a<br \/>\ncreature that walks without legs, eats without a mouth, breathes<br \/>\nwithout lungs, feels without nerves, then divides and conquers.<br \/>\nWhat happens when you try to squeeze a puddle of gravity in your<br \/>\nhand?  It dissolves into hundreds of silver eggs.  Me too.  The<br \/>\nincubation period was over.  Display model #2:  People backed up<br \/>\ninto a dark corner.  Unearthed puzzle, the same the moon all<br \/>\nover.  Next stage?  Parachute, the final explanation arising as I<br \/>\nmake my slow descent.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Gillian McCain<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Some mornings, it&#8217;s just not worth chewing through the leather<br \/>\nstraps.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Emo Phillips<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The happiest person is the person who thinks the most<br \/>\ninteresting thoughts.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Timothy Dwight<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Be happy.  It is a way of being wise.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Colette<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but a manner of<br \/>\ntravelling.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;M.  L. Runbeck<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is better to aim at perfection and miss, than to aim at<br \/>\nimperfection and hit it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;T. J. Watson, Sr.<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Lord Alfred Tennyson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You are what you do when it counts.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;The Masao<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I once complained to my father that I didn&#8217;t seem to be able to<br \/>\ndo things the same way other people did.  Dad&#8217;s advice?  &#8216;Margo,<br \/>\ndon&#8217;t be a sheep.  People hate sheep.  They eat sheep.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Margo Kaufmann<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you&#8217;re never scared or embarrassed or hurt, it means you<br \/>\nnever take any chances.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Julia Soorel<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Success is a journey, not a destination.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Ben Sweetland<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There is zero, and there is eternity, and there is mortality,<br \/>\nbut there is no ultimate.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Stephen King<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You are what you are &#8212; and not what people think you are.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;O.  W. Polen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Don&#8217;t try to be different.  Just be good.  To be good is<br \/>\ndifferent enough.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Arthur Freed<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If we&#8217;re going to be damned, let&#8217;s be damned for who we really<br \/>\nare!&#8221;<br \/>\n                           &#8211;from Star Trek:  The Next Generation<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I must not fear.  Fear is the mind-killer.  Fear is the little<br \/>\ndeath that brings total obliteration.  I will face my fear.  I<br \/>\nwill permit it to pass over me and through me.  And when it has<br \/>\ngone past over me and through me.  And when it has gone past I<br \/>\nwill turn the inner eye to see its path.  Where the fear has gone<br \/>\nthere will be nothing.  Only I will remain.&#8221; (Dune)<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Frank Herbert<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;About all you can do in life is be who you are.  Some people<br \/>\nwill love you for you.  Most will love you for what you can do<br \/>\nfor them, and some won&#8217;t like you at all.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Rita Mae Brown<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The difficulties of life are intended to make us better, not<br \/>\nbitter.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Mandie Ellingson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;An ordinary man can&#8230; surround himself with two thousand<br \/>\nbooks&#8230; and thenceforward have at least one place in the world<br \/>\nin which it is possible to be happy.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Augustine Birrell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Language exists to conceal true thought.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Tallyrand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A teacher is one who makes himself progressively unnecessary.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Thomas Carruthers<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People who think honestly and deeply have a hostile attitude<br \/>\ntowards the public.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement.  But<br \/>\nthe opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound<br \/>\ntruth.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Niels Bohr<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Truth has no special time of its own.  Its hour is now &#8212;<br \/>\nalways.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Albert Schweitzer<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can promise to be frank, I cannot promise to be impartial.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you make people think they&#8217;re thinking, they&#8217;ll love you; but<br \/>\nif you make them really think, they&#8217;ll hate you.&#8221;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Two things fill my mind with ever-increasing wonder and awe:<br \/>\nthe starry skies above me and the moral law within me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Immanuel Kant<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win you&#8217;re<br \/>\nstill a rat.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Lilly Tomlin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable<br \/>\ngame of his own devising, which might be compared, from the<br \/>\nperspective of any other players, to being involved in an obscure<br \/>\nand complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank<br \/>\ncards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won&#8217;t tell you the<br \/>\nrules and who smiles all the time.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                &#8211;Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Okay, I&#8217;m sorry I don&#8217;t write poems about sunsets and nature and<br \/>\nmystical experiences, I only know what I know; I could write that<br \/>\nthe sight of a sunset lit up my mind like Light Brite and I was<br \/>\nenlightened, or that the sun and moon are my mother and father;<br \/>\nbut I can&#8217;t &#8212; I can only write with any semblance of truth about<br \/>\nwhat contains my simple frame of reference.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Gillian McCain<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All art must come from experience, or it is as fake as the soul<br \/>\nof the one who writes it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Loriel<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you happen to meet a crocodile, don&#8217;t stick your head in its<br \/>\nmouth.  Every now and then, and who knows the reason, people<br \/>\nignore this advice, which is sad because they die, but very<br \/>\nstupid because they were warned.  They had a choice.  The moral<br \/>\nof the story is this &#8212; you can&#8217;t afford to be stupid.  There are<br \/>\ncrocodiles&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;from Press Gang<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The man who can drive himself further once the effort gets<br \/>\npainful is the man who will win.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Roger Bannister<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Imagine a life without uncertainty&#8230;  Imagine how dull life<br \/>\nwould be if variables assessed for admission to a professional<br \/>\nschool, graduate program, or executive training program really<br \/>\ndid predict with great accuracy who would succeed and who would<br \/>\nfall.  Life would be intolerable &#8212; no hope, no challenge.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;R. M. Dawes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Go your own way.  Question everything.  Accept nothing.  Accept<br \/>\nno dogma, no can&#8217;t.  There are too many people walking around<br \/>\nthinking they&#8217;re sacred cows, and they&#8217;re only half right.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Rosie Dimanno<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the<br \/>\nman who can&#8217;t read them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Mark Twain<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Consider a man riding a bicycle.  Whoever he is, we can say<br \/>\nthree things about him.  We know he got on the bicycle and<br \/>\nstarted to move.  We know that at some point he will stop and get<br \/>\noff.  Most important of all, we know that if at any point between<br \/>\nthe beginning and the end of his journey he stops moving and does<br \/>\nnot get off the bicycle he will fall off it.  That is a metaphor<br \/>\nfor the journey through life of any living thing, and I think of<br \/>\nany society of living things.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;William Golding<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Utopias are presented for our inspection as a critique of the<br \/>\nhuman state.  If they are to be treated as anything but trivial<br \/>\nexercises of the imagination.  I suggest there is a simple test<br \/>\nwe can apply. &#8230; We must forget the whole paraphernalia of<br \/>\nsocial description, demonstration, expostulation, approbation,<br \/>\ncondemnation.  We have to say to ourselves,  &#8216;How would I myself<br \/>\nlive in this proposed society?  How long would it be before I<br \/>\nwent stark staring mad?'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;William Golding<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We spent all night learning an important less.  You can&#8217;t judge<br \/>\na sewer by its manhole cover.  No sir.  People can be very<br \/>\ndifferent under the surface than they might seem.  Quiet, mild-<br \/>\nmannered souls might just turn out to be roaring lions of two-<br \/>\nfisted cool.  And roaring lions of two-fisted cool just might<br \/>\nhave some crippling lobster problems!  Listen man, it&#8217;s all crazy<br \/>\ndown there under the surface.  A lost wallet could bite you in<br \/>\nhalf.  A bar of soap could save your life.  Egad, a disgusting<br \/>\nmound of muck just might have some very compelling ideas.  Do you<br \/>\ndig my ditch?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;from The Tick<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think that you appreciate that there are extraordinary men and<br \/>\nwomen, and extraordinary moments when history leaps forward on<br \/>\nthe backs of these individuals.  That what can be imagined, can<br \/>\nbe achieved.  That you must dare to dream, but that there is no<br \/>\nsubstitute for perseverance and hard work, and team work, because<br \/>\nno one gets there alone.  And that while we commemorate the<br \/>\ngreatness of these events and the individuals who achieve them,<br \/>\nwe cannot forget the sacrifice of those who makes these<br \/>\nachievements and leaps possible.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;from The X-Files<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The fact is that liberty, in any true sense, is a concept that<br \/>\nlies quite beyond the reach of the inferior man&#8217;s mind.  And no<br \/>\nwonder, for genuine liberty demands of its votaries a quality he<br \/>\nlacks completely, and that is courage.  The man who loves it must<br \/>\nbe willing to fight for it; blood, said Jefferson, is its natural<br \/>\nmanure.  Liberty means self-reliance, it means resolution, it<br \/>\nmeans the capacity for doing without&#8230; the average man doesn&#8217;t<br \/>\nwant to be free.  He wants to be safe.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;H. L. Mencken<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Again, we must ask ourselves why the people that brought war,<br \/>\nplane crashes, political corruption, lap dancing and serial<br \/>\nkillers to our breakfast tables and into our living rooms are<br \/>\ntrying to sooth us with futuristic Web browsers, all buttons and<br \/>\nspinning logos.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;Michael Van Biesbrouck<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I wish that people would take the time to show people that they<br \/>\nare important in their lives, either at work, or at home.  Too<br \/>\nmany times people take others for granted, and I think that needs<br \/>\nto change.  People are so much nicer and willing to help you if<br \/>\nyou use those two little words that mean so much&#8230; &#8216;Thank You!'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Gina Gillespie<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I would wish that people come to realize that we create our own<br \/>\nrealities, and all our emotions and thoughts are simply choices.<br \/>\nIf we were more accountable as human beings we would experience<br \/>\nfar, far less suffering and indifference in the world.  It is<br \/>\nconsiderably easier to place blame outside of ourselves than to<br \/>\nlive life from an accountable position.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Brincka<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I guess some people never change.  Or, they quickly change and<br \/>\nthen quickly change back.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;from The Simpsons<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s an element of contempt for meanings.  You want to write<br \/>\noutside the usual framework.  You want to dare readers to make a<br \/>\ncommitment you know they can&#8217;t make.  That&#8217;s part of [crazed<br \/>\nprose].  There&#8217;s also the sense of drowning in information and in<br \/>\nthe mass awareness of things.  Everybody seems to know<br \/>\neverything.  Subjects surface and are totally exhausted in a<br \/>\nmatter of days. &#8230; The writer is driven by his conviction that<br \/>\nsome truths aren&#8217;t arrived at so easily, that life is still full<br \/>\nof mystery, that it might be better for you, dear reader, if you<br \/>\nwent back to the living section of your newspaper because this is<br \/>\nthe dying section and you don&#8217;t really want to be here.  This<br \/>\nwriter is working against the age and so he feels some<br \/>\nsatisfaction at not being widely read.  He is diminished by an<br \/>\naudience.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Don DeLillo<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Because friends have to be brutally honest with each other.  I&#8217;d<br \/>\nfeel terrible if I didn&#8217;t tell you what I was thinking,<br \/>\nespecially at a time like this.&#8221;  (Noise)<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Don DeLillo<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We start our lives in chaos, in babble.  As we surge up into the<br \/>\nworld, we try to devise a shape, a plan.  There is dignity in<br \/>\nthis.  Your whole life is a plot, a scheme, a diagram.  It is a<br \/>\nfailed scheme but that&#8217;s not the point.  To plot is to affirm<br \/>\nlife, to seek shape and control.  Even after death, most<br \/>\nparticularly after death, the search continues.  Burial rites are<br \/>\nan attempt to complete the scheme, in ritual.  Picture a state<br \/>\nfuneral.  It is all precision, detail, order, design.  The nation<br \/>\nholds its breath.  The efforts of a huge and powerful government<br \/>\nare brought to bear on a ceremony that will shed the last trace<br \/>\nof chaos.  If all geos well, if they bring it off, some natural<br \/>\nlaw of perfection is obeyed.  The nation is delivered from<br \/>\nanxiety, the deceased&#8217;s life is redeemed, life itself is<br \/>\nstrengthened, reaffirmed.&#8221;  (Noise)<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Don DeLillo<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Just because it&#8217;s on the radio doesn&#8217;t mean we have to suspend<br \/>\nbelief in the evidence of our senses.&#8221;  (White Noise)<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Don DeLillo<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Where are the beginnings, the endings, and most important, the<br \/>\nmiddles?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Julio Cort\ufffdzar<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He who joyfully marches to music in rank and file has already<br \/>\nearned my contempt.  He has been given a large brain by mistake,<br \/>\nsince for him the spinal cord would fully suffice.  This disgrace<br \/>\nto civilization should be done away with at once.  Heroism at<br \/>\ncommand, senseless brutality, deplorable love-of-country stance,<br \/>\nhow violently I hate all this, how despicable and ignoble war is;<br \/>\nI would rather be torn to shreds than be part of so base an<br \/>\naction!  It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war<br \/>\nis nothing but an act of murder.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Albert Einstein<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;That is the future, and it is probably nearer than we think.<br \/>\nBut our primary problem as universities is not engineering that<br \/>\nfuture.  We must rise above the obsession with quantity of<br \/>\ninformation and speed of transmission, and recognize that the key<br \/>\nissue for us is our ability to organize this information once it<br \/>\nhas been amassed &#8212; to assimilate it, find meaning in it, and<br \/>\nassure its survival for use by generations to come.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Vartan Gregorian<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The highest form of guitar soloing is saying something in 16<br \/>\nbars and not wasting a note.  You can&#8217;t aspire to anything finer<br \/>\nin a pop record.  I&#8217;ve never gone for gratuitous soloing.  The<br \/>\nmost predictable thing in the world is to wank on guitar for days<br \/>\non end.  It&#8217;s like weight lifting.  I&#8217;m not impressed by it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Elliot Easton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Little problems are big problems for little minds&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Tom Zimmerman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Such is the stuff of waking nightmares, incipient madness, the<br \/>\nsort of now-bewildered but soon-to-be-deranged thoughts that<br \/>\ncause once well-balanced people to peek under their beds at<br \/>\nnight, suspect that their phones are tapped, and, in time, become<br \/>\ncertain that sinister forces are monitoring their every move.<br \/>\nMaybe it&#8217;s the government, maybe it&#8217;s the Trilateral Commission,<br \/>\nmaybe it&#8217;s the saucer people.  You can&#8217;t trust anyone because<br \/>\nanyone and everyone may be one of Them or on of Their Agents.<br \/>\nAnd pretty soon you begin writing long letters to the editor of<br \/>\nScientific American, or maybe you don&#8217;t because the editors are<br \/>\nprobably part of the conspiracy too.  And you think about lining<br \/>\nyour room with aluminum foil to keep the radio waves out, and at<br \/>\nnight you roam the streets spray-painting mystic symbols on the<br \/>\nwalls to repel strange forces, and all the while you gibber to<br \/>\nyourself and what you say makes sense to you if to no one else,<br \/>\nand in the end you put your belongings in a shopping bad, better<br \/>\nto be mobile, and you look for a dark place you can hide during<br \/>\nthe daylight hours, because They are out there, and They are<br \/>\nsearching, and They want you in their crosshairs&#8230;  The<br \/>\nheadshrinkers call it paranoia, and when it gets bad they put you<br \/>\naway.  Because, after all, people who think everyone in the world<br \/>\nwants to kill them can be dangerous.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Joseph R. Garber<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I cannot feel good about being a woman unless you feel bad about<br \/>\nbeing a moan.  I cannot be proud of being black unless you are<br \/>\nashamed of being white.  I cannot respect myself for being gay<br \/>\nunless you are embarrassed that you are straight.  Tolerance has<br \/>\nbeen put by the boards; it is a stale and bitter thing and we<br \/>\nwill have none of it.  Equality, likewise; is condescending at<br \/>\nbest and in truth intended to demean.  If I am to achieve the<br \/>\ninner harmony and self-respect that is my due, it will not<br \/>\nsuffice for you and I to be equals.  No!  Nothing less than<br \/>\nsuperiority will make me happy.  And to ensure that I make my<br \/>\npoint, I shall commend your libraries to the flames, rewrite your<br \/>\nhistories, purge your dictionaries, and arm the thought police<br \/>\nwith power to enforce political correctness in all speech and<br \/>\napprehension.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Joseph R. Garber<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I want you to be able to say anything. Even what you don&#8217;t<br \/>\nmean.&#8221;  (Notes to Myself)<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Hugh Prather<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s a pity if someone&#8230; has to console himself for the wreck<br \/>\nof his days with the notion that somehow his voice, his work<br \/>\nembodies the deepest, most obscure, freshest, rawest oyster of<br \/>\nreality in the unfathomable refrigerator of the heart&#8217;s ocean,<br \/>\nbut I am such a one, and there you have it. &#8230; It is really<br \/>\namazing how famous I am to those few who truly comprehend what<br \/>\nI&#8217;m about.  I am the Voice of Suffering and I cannot be<br \/>\nconsoled.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Leonard Cohen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Lead me, follow me, or get out of my way.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;General George Patton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Be willing to make decisions.  That&#8217;s the most important quality<br \/>\nin a good leader.  Don&#8217;t fall victim to what I call the Ready-<br \/>\nAim-Aim-Aim Syndrome.  You must be willing to fire.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;T. Boone Pickens<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Hello everyone.  I suppose you think that nothing much is<br \/>\nhappening at the moment.  Well, that&#8217;s what I want to talk to you<br \/>\nall about; endings.  Now, endings normally happen at the end.<br \/>\nBut as we all know, endings are just beginnings.  You know, once<br \/>\nthese things really get started, it&#8217;s jolly hard to stop them<br \/>\nagain.  However, as we have all come this far, I think, under the<br \/>\ncircumstances the best solution is that we all just keep going.<br \/>\nLet&#8217;s keep this going in sight, never an ending.  Let&#8217;s remember<br \/>\nthat this world wants fresh beginnings.  I feel here, in this<br \/>\ncountry, and throughout the world, we are crying out for<br \/>\nbeginnings, beginnings.  We never want to hear this word<br \/>\n&#8216;endings&#8217;.  I know we all want to sit down.  I know you want to<br \/>\ntake it easy.  Of course we&#8217;re looking for the good.  Of course<br \/>\nwe&#8217;re looking for the fresh start.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Mike Oldfield<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Whenever someone annoys me, I create a file with his or her name<br \/>\non it and drag it to my Mac&#8217;s trash icon.  If I&#8217;m really angry, I<br \/>\nempty the trash, and whoever was bugging me disappears into the<br \/>\nvoid.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Margo Kaufman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8216;When I use a word,&#8217; Humpty Dumpty said in a rather scornful<br \/>\ntone, &#8216;it means just what I choose it to mean; neither more nor<br \/>\nless.'&#8221;  (Through the Looking-Glass 164)<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Lewis Carroll<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart&#8217;s<br \/>\naffections, and the truth of imagination.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;John Keats<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To approach telepathy, you start with empathy and crank that up<br \/>\nas high as you can.  You care about each other. You feel each<br \/>\nothers&#8217;s joy and pain.  You make each other laugh, and help each<br \/>\nother cry.  You work hard at trusting each other, so that it&#8217;s<br \/>\nsafe to dismantle the fortress around your ego.  You forgive each<br \/>\nother anything that stands between you, and try to bring out each<br \/>\nother&#8217;s best, you work very hard at hosing all the bull-shit out<br \/>\nof your head so that it&#8217;s clean enough for guests, silencing all<br \/>\nthe demons in your subconscious so that it&#8217;s quiet enough to hear<br \/>\npeople thinking at you, and most of all you find ways to make<br \/>\nthat work so much fun that you keep on working.  You stick<br \/>\ntogether and love each other, and keep growing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Spider Robinson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You are what you do when it counts&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;John Steakley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I once listed all the good things I did over the past year, and<br \/>\nthen turned them into resolution form and backdated them.  That<br \/>\nwas a good feeling.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Fulghum<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The quality of a person&#8217;s life is in direct proportion to their<br \/>\ncommitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen<br \/>\nfield of endeavour.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Vince Lombardi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Create a vision and never let the environment, other people&#8217;s<br \/>\nbeliefs, or the limits of what has been done in the past shape<br \/>\nyour decisions.  Ignore conventional wisdom.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Anthony Robbins<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Determine what you want, then resolve to pay the price to get<br \/>\nit.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Bunker Hunt<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin<br \/>\n&#8212; real life.  But there was always some obstacle in the way,<br \/>\nsomething to be got through first, some unfinished business, time<br \/>\nstill to be served, a debt to be paid.  Then life would begin.<br \/>\nAt last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Fr. Alfred D&#8217;Souza<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;And as cliche as it may sound<br \/>\n I&#8217;d like to raise another round<br \/>\n And if you bottles empty<br \/>\n Help yourself to mine<br \/>\n Thank you for your time<br \/>\n And here&#8217;s to life.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;The Refreshments<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;And who ever said there&#8217;s nothing new under the sun<br \/>\n Never thought much about individuals<br \/>\n But he&#8217;s dead anyways.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;The Refreshments<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All great truths begin as blasphemies.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;George Bernard Shaw<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You see things and say, &#8216;Why?&#8217;, but I dream things and say, &#8216;Why<br \/>\nnot?'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;George Bernard Shaw<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Truth is not determined by majority vote.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Doug Gwyn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our<br \/>\nwits to grow sharper.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Bertrand Russel<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is not what they take away from you that counts.  It&#8217;s what<br \/>\nyou do with what you have left.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Hubert Humphrey<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People who fail to achieve their goals usually get stopped by<br \/>\nfrustration.  They allow frustration to keep them from taking the<br \/>\nnecessary actions that would support them in achieving their<br \/>\ndesire.  You get through this roadblock by plowing through<br \/>\nfrustration, taking each setback as feedback you can learn from,<br \/>\nand pushing ahead. I doubt you&#8217;ll find many successful people who<br \/>\nhave not experienced this.  All successful people learn that<br \/>\nsuccess is buried on the other side of frustration.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Anthony Robbins<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn&#8217;t<br \/>\nlead anywhere.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                           &#8211;Unkn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;This great misfortune &#8212; to be incapable of solitude.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jean de la Bruyere<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There is no such thing as a &#8216;self-made&#8217; man.  We are made up of<br \/>\nthousands of others.  Everyone who has ever done a kind deed for<br \/>\nus, or spoken one word of encouragement to us, has entered into<br \/>\nthe make-up of our character and of our thoughts, as well as our<br \/>\nsuccess.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;George Matthew Adams<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Our lives improve only when we take chances &#8212; and the first and<br \/>\nmost difficult risk we can take is to be honest with ourselves.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Walter Anderson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There are two types of people &#8212; those who come into a room and<br \/>\nsay, &#8216;Well, here I am!&#8217; and those who come in and say, &#8216;Ah, there<br \/>\nyou are.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Frederick L Collins<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t know the key to success, but the key to failure is to<br \/>\ntry to please everyone.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Bill Cosby<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of<br \/>\nimproving, and that&#8217;s your own self.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Aldous Huxley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I take a simple view of life:  keep your eyes open and get on<br \/>\nwith it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Sir Laurence Olivier<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common.<br \/>\nInstead of altering their views to fit the facts, they alter the<br \/>\nfacts to fit their views&#8230; which can be very uncomfortable if<br \/>\nyou happen to be one of the facts that needs altering.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;from Doctor Who<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;m old old enough to play baseball or football.  I&#8217;m not eight<br \/>\nyet.  My Mom told me when you start baseball, you aren&#8217;t going to<br \/>\nbe able to run that fast because you had an operation.  I told<br \/>\nMom I wouldn&#8217;t need to run fast.  When I play baseball, I&#8217;ll just<br \/>\nhit them out of the park.  Then I&#8217;ll be able to walk.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Edward J. Mcgrath Jr.<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s possible to fight intolerance, stupidity and fanaticism<br \/>\nwhen they come separately.  When you get all three together it&#8217;s<br \/>\nprobably wiser to get out, if only to preserve your sanity.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;P. D. James<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Is there a home, a home for me?<br \/>\n Where the people stay until eternity?<br \/>\n Is there a road that winds up, underneath the big green tree?<br \/>\n Is there a home, a home for me?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Stan Ridgway<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I wanna float with you on a cumulus cloud<br \/>\n I wanna take you far away from this maddening crowd<br \/>\n You can scratch up my back with your long fingernails<br \/>\n We&#8217;ll drink some weird wine and eat psychedelic snails.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Stan Ridgway<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;My angel, my all, my very self&#8230; my thoughts go out to you, my<br \/>\nImmortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to<br \/>\nlearn whether or not fate will hear us &#8212; I can live only wholly<br \/>\nwith you or not at all&#8230;  Be calm &#8212; love me &#8212; today &#8212;<br \/>\nyesterday &#8212; what tearful longings for you &#8212; you &#8212; you &#8212; my<br \/>\nlife &#8212; my all &#8212; farewell.  Oh continue to love &#8212; never<br \/>\nmisjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.  Ever thine.<br \/>\nEver mine.  Ever ours.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Ludwig van Beethoven<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All right, they&#8217;re on our left, they&#8217;re on our right, they&#8217;re in<br \/>\nfront of us, they&#8217;re behind us.  They can&#8217;t get away this time!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                        &#8211;General &#8220;Chesty&#8221; Puller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Mohandas Gandhi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;True morality consists, not in following the beaten track, but<br \/>\nin finding out the true path for ourselves and in fearlessly<br \/>\nfollowing it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Mohandas Gandhi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You have no warning when your life&#8217;s about to change.  No clap<br \/>\nof thunder.  No sign.  Maybe a premonition, a fear,  but we&#8217;re<br \/>\nscared most of the time, aren&#8217;t we?  So how do you know when it<br \/>\nmeans something?  How do you know when you&#8217;re just not being<br \/>\nparanoid?&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He was polite to his elders, who disliked him.  Whatever his<br \/>\nelders told him to do, he did.  They told him to look before he<br \/>\nleaped, and he always looked before he leaped.  They told him<br \/>\nnever to put off until the next day what he could do the day<br \/>\nbefore, and he never did.  He was told to honour his father and<br \/>\nhis mother, and he honoured his father and his mother.  He was<br \/>\ntold that he should not kill, and he did not kill, until he got<br \/>\ninto the Army.  Then he was told to kill, and he killed.  He<br \/>\nturned the other cheek on every occasion and always did unto<br \/>\nothers exactly as he would have had others do unto him.  When he<br \/>\ngave to charity, his left hand never knew what his right hand was<br \/>\ndoing.  He never once took the name of the Lord his God in vain,<br \/>\ncommitted adultery or coveted his neighbour&#8217;s ass.  In fact, he<br \/>\nloved his neighbour and never even bore false witness against<br \/>\nhim.  [His] elders disliked him because he was such a flagrant<br \/>\nnonconformist.&#8221; (Catch 22)<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Joseph Heller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Well, maybe it is true, maybe a long life does have to be filled<br \/>\nwith many unpleasant conditions if it&#8217;s to seem long.  But in<br \/>\nthat event, who wants one?&#8221; (Catch 22)<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Joseph Heller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Practice random acts of independence and senseless acts of<br \/>\nfreedom.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Professor Zen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Stand up for yourself.  If you don&#8217;t then why should I?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Professor Zen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I have a novel way to eliminate crime as we know it.  Instead of<br \/>\npassing sentences of a certain number of years, why don&#8217;t we<br \/>\neducate the inmates and not let them out until they have<br \/>\nmaintained at least a C average from a grade school to a high<br \/>\nschool curriculum.  Do you know how many people we could actually<br \/>\nkeep in prison and for how long?  Think about it&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Professor Zen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8216;You&#8217;ll get over it&#8230;&#8217;  It&#8217;s the clich\uff34 that cause the<br \/>\ntrouble.  To lose someone you love is to alter your life forever.<br \/>\nYou don&#8217;t get over it because &#8216;it&#8217; is the person you loved.  The<br \/>\npain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes.  How<br \/>\ncould it?  The articularness of someone who mattered enough to<br \/>\ngrieve over is not made anodyne by death.  This hole in my heart<br \/>\nis in the shape of you and no one else can fit it.  Why would I<br \/>\nwant them to?&#8221; (Body)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Yes we are [friends] and I do like to pass the day with you in<br \/>\nserious and inconsequential chatter.  I wouldn&#8217;t mind washing up<br \/>\nbeside you, dusting beside you, reading the back half of the<br \/>\npaper while you read the front.  We are friends and I would miss<br \/>\nyou, do miss you and think of you very often.  I don&#8217;t want to<br \/>\nlose this happy space where I have found someone who is smart and<br \/>\neasy and doesn&#8217;t bother to check her diary when we arrange to<br \/>\nmeet.&#8221; (Body)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Poor me.  There&#8217;s nothing so sweet as wallowing in it is there?<br \/>\nWallowing is sex for depressives.&#8221; (Body)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I was in the last spasms of an affair with a Dutch girl called<br \/>\nInge.  She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist.<br \/>\nThis was hard for her because it meant she couldn&#8217;t blow up<br \/>\nbeautiful buildings.  She knew the Eiffel Tower was a hideous<br \/>\nsymbol of phallic oppression but when ordered by her commander to<br \/>\ndetonate the lift so that no-one should unthinkingly scale an<br \/>\nerection, her mind filled with young romantics gazing over Paris<br \/>\nand opening aerograms that said Je t&#8217;aime.&#8221; (Body)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Make three wishes and they shall all come true.  Make three<br \/>\nhundred and I will honour every one.&#8221; (Written on the Body)<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You will never find time for anything.  If you want time you<br \/>\nmust make it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Charles Buxton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We want the facts to fit the preconceptions.  When they don&#8217;t,<br \/>\nit is easier to ignore the facts than to change the<br \/>\npreconceptions.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Jessamyn West<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Telling us to obey instinct is like telling us to obey &#8216;people.&#8217;<br \/>\nPeople say different things:  so do instincts.  Our instincts are<br \/>\nat war&#8230;.Each instinct, if you listen to it, will claim to be<br \/>\ngratified at the expense of the rest.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;C. S. Lewis<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;My riches consist not in the extent of my possessions, but in<br \/>\nthe fewness of my wants.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;J. Brotherton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The purpose of education is to replace an empty mind with an<br \/>\nopen one.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Malcom Forbes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Our business in life is not to get ahead of others, but to get<br \/>\nahead of ourselves &#8211; to break our own records, to outstrip our<br \/>\nyesterday by our today.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Stewart B. Johnson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they&#8217;re yours.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Obviously, where art has it over life is in the matter of<br \/>\nediting.  Life can be seen to suffer from a drastic lack of<br \/>\nediting.  It stops too quick, or else it goes on too long.<br \/>\nWorse, its pacing is erratic.  Some chapters are little more than<br \/>\na few sentences in length, while others stretch into volumes.<br \/>\nLife, for all its raw talent, has little sense of structure.  It<br \/>\ncreates amazing textures, but it can&#8217;t be counted on for snappy<br \/>\nbeginnings or good endings either.  Indeed, in many cases no<br \/>\nending is provided at all.<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Larry McMurtry<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There are two ways to slide easily through life:  to believe<br \/>\neverything or to doubt everything; both ways save us from<br \/>\nthinking.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Theodore Rubin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We must not allow other people&#8217;s limited perceptions to define<br \/>\nus.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Virginia Satir<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Whether they really believe in their brave new world, however,<br \/>\nis ultimately beside the point.  They&#8217;re building it.  And in the<br \/>\nfriction-free future, jacked into paradise, we&#8217;ll have the<br \/>\n&#8216;liberty&#8217; of living (or rather, or buying the illusion of<br \/>\nliving), through the benevolent offices of a middleman as nearly<br \/>\nomnipotent as god himself.  Freedom?  A more perfect captivity is<br \/>\ndifficult to imagine.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Mark Slouka<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The future is green and low tech.  We&#8217;ll watch aquariums, not<br \/>\nTVs.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;A. Pavletich<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We all are where we are because we want to be there.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                      &#8211;from What Happened Was&#8230;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The future lay sparkling ahead of us and we thought that we&#8217;d<br \/>\nknow each other forever.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;from Sleepers<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The most important thing about a man is what he believes in the<br \/>\ndepth of his being.  This is the thing that makes him what he is,<br \/>\nthe thing that organizes him and feeds him; the thing that keeps<br \/>\nhim going in the face of untoward circumstances; the thing that<br \/>\ngives him resistance and drive.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Hugh Stevenson Tigner<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you don&#8217;t have solid beliefs you cannot build a stable life.<br \/>\nBeliefs are like the foundation of a building, and they are the<br \/>\nfoundation to build your life upon.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Alfred A. Montapert<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What orbit of the planets has put you and me in this place, at<br \/>\nthis moment?  Where time takes a breath, and we dance on the edge<br \/>\nof our dreams?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                    &#8211;from a Millennia commercial<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You know one of the ways that movies are still better than<br \/>\nplayback?  Because the music comes up, there&#8217;s credits, and you<br \/>\nalways know when it&#8217;s over.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;from Strange Days<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s more to light than the opposite of dark.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s a new and virulent cultural virus ripping through the<br \/>\nworld&#8230;  The symptoms of those infected include attacks of<br \/>\noptimism, strong feelings of community, lower stress levels and<br \/>\noutbreaks of pronoia &#8212; the sneaking feeling that someone is<br \/>\nconspiring behind their backs to help them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Jules Marshall<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Machines will never be able to give the thinking process a model<br \/>\nof thought itself, since machines are not mortal.  What gives<br \/>\nhumans access to the symbolic domain of value and meaning is the<br \/>\nfact that we die.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;R\uff28is Debray<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The task of thinking is based upon selection and weeding out;<br \/>\nremembering everything is weirdly similar to forgetting<br \/>\neverything.  Most things that people do shouldn&#8217;t be remembered.<br \/>\nMaybe forgetting is good.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Gary Wolf<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;May the best from your past be the worst of your future.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                   &#8211;from The Long Kiss Goodnight<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When you discard arrogance, complexity, and a few other things<br \/>\nthat get in the way, sooner or later you will discover that<br \/>\nsimple, childlike, and mysterious secret known to those of the<br \/>\nUncarved Block:  Life is Fun.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Benjamin Hoff<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think that the most important thing to teach children in an<br \/>\nenvironmentally conscious age is alternative views of nature.<br \/>\nThey must be shown how our interpretation of natural systems is<br \/>\noften completely dependent not on what is there but on what kind<br \/>\nof box we draw around the data.  And if they are going to be<br \/>\nsmarter than their parents, then schoolchildren must think<br \/>\nsubversively about accepted wisdoms concerning natural systems.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Stephen Strauss<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Progress involves risks.  You can&#8217;t steal second with your foot<br \/>\non first.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Fred Wilcox<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Don&#8217;t save a pitcher for tomorrow.  Tomorrow it may rain.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Leo Durocher<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s like most anything.  If you want to be a loser, there&#8217;s<br \/>\nalways a way to dwell on the negative.  If you want to win,<br \/>\nthere&#8217;s always a way to think positively.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Tony La Russa<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you are content with yourself, you&#8217;ll stop taking those<br \/>\nlittle steps forward and begin taking big steps backward.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Greg Maddux<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Bury me above the clouds, all the way from here<br \/>\n Take away the things I need, take away my fear<br \/>\n Hide me in a hollow sound, happy ever more<br \/>\n Everything I had to give, gave them long before.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Garbage<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Crashing silent, broken down, falling into night<br \/>\n Who gave up and who gave in, I&#8217;ll go without a fight<br \/>\n Cut me down or cut me dead, cut me in or out<br \/>\n Kiss me blind time after time, take away my doubt.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Garbage<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I bit my tongue and stood in line<br \/>\n With not much to believe in<br \/>\n I bought into what I was sold<br \/>\n And ended up with nothing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Garbage<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I only smile in the dark<br \/>\n My only comfort is the night gone black<br \/>\n I didn&#8217;t accidentally tell you that<br \/>\n I&#8217;m only happy when it rains.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Garbage<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A couple things about looking into a mirror: First off, you get<br \/>\nto see anybody sneaking up behind you, second, it&#8217;s two-<br \/>\ndimensional and you don&#8217;t get to see the whole of yourself,<br \/>\nthird, mirrors are flat and very often cold, fourth, when things<br \/>\nget hot and intense, it&#8217;s the mirror that steams up, not your<br \/>\neyes.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Greg Webster<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A couple months ago I noticed that I hadn&#8217;t really laughed for a<br \/>\nlong time&#8230;  That&#8217;s come back quite well, I&#8217;m enjoying more<br \/>\nthings&#8230;  I&#8217;d say that I&#8217;ve almost completely recovered from the<br \/>\npast few years, still cynical, but not really bitter.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Greg Webster<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[Alan Berg&#8217;s] memory haunts many people, even those who never<br \/>\nheard him on the radio, because his death could be read as a<br \/>\nmessage:  Be cautious, be prudent, be bland, never push anybody,<br \/>\nnever say what you really think, offer yourself as a hostage to<br \/>\nthe weirdos even before they make the first move. These days, a<br \/>\nlot of people are opposed to the newfound popularity of &#8216;trash<br \/>\ntelevision,&#8217; and no doubt they are right, and the hosts of these<br \/>\nshows are shameless controversy-mongers. But at least they are<br \/>\nnot intimidated. Of what use is freedom of speech to those who<br \/>\nfear to offend?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Roger Ebert<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The hottest places in hell are reserved for those, who in times<br \/>\nof great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Dante Alighieri<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People are usually more firmly convinced that their opinions are<br \/>\nprecious than that they are true.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;George Santayana<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I would step in the way of a bullet if it were aimed at my<br \/>\nhusband.  It is not self-sacrifice to die protecting that which<br \/>\nyou value:  If the value is great enough, you do not care to<br \/>\nexist without it.  This applies to any alleged sacrifice for<br \/>\nthose one loves.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Baseball breaks your heart.  It is designed to break your heart.<br \/>\nThe game begins in the spring when everything else begins again,<br \/>\nand it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and<br \/>\nevenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and<br \/>\nleaves you to face fall alone.<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;A. Bartlett Giamatti<\/p>\n<p>            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is always the same:  once you are liberated, you are forced<br \/>\nto ask who you are.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Jean Baudrillard<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Tomorrow isn&#8217;t promised to any of us.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Kirby Puckett<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Happiness isn&#8217;t a static thing; it&#8217;s the quest for happiness<br \/>\nthat allows us to think we&#8217;re happy, while we continue to search<br \/>\nfor more.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Greg Webster<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We can&#8217;t all be Einstein (because we don&#8217;t all play the violin).<br \/>\nAt the very least, we need a sort of street-smart science:  the<br \/>\nability to recognize evidence, gather it, assess it, and act on<br \/>\nit.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Judith Stone<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Over the last decade or so &#8216;wars&#8217; have been proclaimed, in turn,<br \/>\non teen pregnancy, dropping out, drugs, and most recently<br \/>\nviolence.  The trouble with such campaigns, though, is that they<br \/>\ncome too late, after the targeted problem has reached epidemic<br \/>\nproportions and taken firm root in the lives of the young.  They<br \/>\nare crisis intervention, the equivalent of solving a problem by<br \/>\nsending an ambulance to the rescue rather than giving an<br \/>\ninoculation that would ward off the disease in the first place.<br \/>\nInstead of more such &#8216;wars,&#8217; what we need is to follow the logic<br \/>\nof prevention, offering our children the skills for facing life<br \/>\nthat will increase their chances of avoiding any and all of these<br \/>\nfates.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Daniel Goldman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Functionless art is simply tolerated vandalism.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Type O Negative<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;That, of course, is the devil&#8217;s bargain of addiction:  a short-<br \/>\nterm good feeling in exchange for the steady meltdown of one&#8217;s<br \/>\nlife.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Daniel Goldman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What we call human nature in actuality is human habit.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Jewel Kilcher<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Why go to a museum and look at paintings if you can paint your<br \/>\nown painting.  I mean, do things for yourself.  I mean, do you<br \/>\nhave somebody come in a sleep with your wife for you?  Do you pay<br \/>\nsomebody to eat your food for you?  I mean, do things for<br \/>\nyourself.  That&#8217;s what life&#8217;s about.  There&#8217;s so many people<br \/>\ndoing things they hate, I mean you have people  running the<br \/>\ncountry who all they care about is keeping their jobs not doing<br \/>\ntheir jobs.  There&#8217;s so little real love in any of the work that<br \/>\nI see.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                      &#8211;from What Happened Was&#8230;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To look this way is to see.<br \/>\n To see is to have vision.<br \/>\n To have vision is to understand.<br \/>\n To understand is to know.<br \/>\n To know is to become.<br \/>\n To become is to live fully.<br \/>\n To live fully is to matter.<br \/>\n And to matter is to become light.<br \/>\n And to become light is to be loved.<br \/>\n And to be loved is to burn.<br \/>\n And to burn is to exist.<br \/>\n Off and on.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Fulghum<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you notice phrases, ideas, and anecdotes that closely<br \/>\nresemble those that appear elsewhere in my writing, it&#8217;s not a<br \/>\nmatter of sloppy editing.  I&#8217;m repeating myself.  I&#8217;m reshuffling<br \/>\nwords in the hope that just once I might say something exactly<br \/>\nright.  And I&#8217;m still wrestling with dilemmas that are not easily<br \/>\nresolved or easily dismissed.  I run at them again and again<br \/>\nbecause I am not finished with them.  Any may never be.  Work-in-<br \/>\nprogress on a life-in-progress is what my writing is about.  And<br \/>\nsome progress in the work is enough to keep it going on.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Fulghum<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You yourself are in an ecstatic state to such a point that you<br \/>\nfeel as though you almost don&#8217;t exist.  I&#8217;ve experienced this<br \/>\ntime and again.  My hand seems devoid of myself, and I have<br \/>\nnothing to do with what is happening.  I just sit there watching<br \/>\nin a state of awe and wonderment.  And it just flows out by<br \/>\nitself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                        &#8211;Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Change is the only thing that you can expect.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Jaymi Wiley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;How can you worry about pleasing people [critics] and what<br \/>\nthey&#8217;re going to think?  How can you do anything creative if the<br \/>\nwhole thing is motivated by trying to please somebody else?  To<br \/>\nme, the whole idea of what I thought art, or music, or anything<br \/>\ncreative was about pleasing yourself and hoping that whatever<br \/>\nyou&#8217;re creating will reach someone else who&#8217;ll see it on that<br \/>\nlevel.  To worry about someone picking it apart and discussing it<br \/>\nelement for element, and trying to knock you down or weaken it in<br \/>\nany way doesn&#8217;t amount to anything but a waste of paper.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Elliot Easton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;They&#8217;re caught where there&#8217;s no way out or where you can&#8217;t see<br \/>\nout.  What are you going to do about it?  I don&#8217;t have the<br \/>\nanswer.  If I did there would be no insane asylums.  But I see a<br \/>\nlot of people, a lot of my friends in the same predicament.  Many<br \/>\ntimes in my life, I was there myself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There is really nothing you must be.<br \/>\n And there is nothing you must do.<br \/>\n There is really nothing you must have.<br \/>\n And there is nothing that you must know.<br \/>\n There is really nothing you must become.<br \/>\n However, it helps to understand that fire burns, and when it<br \/>\nrains, the earth gets wet&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Fulghum<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Making a living and having a life are not the same thing.<br \/>\nMaking a living and making a life that&#8217;s worthwhile are not the<br \/>\nsame thing.  Living the good life and living a good life are not<br \/>\nthe same thing.  A job title doesn&#8217;t even come close to answering<br \/>\nthe question &#8216;What do you do?'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Fulghum<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Even if there&#8217;s no such thing as free will, we have to treat<br \/>\neach other as if there were free will in order to live together<br \/>\nin society.  Because otherwise, every time somebody does<br \/>\nsomething terrible, you can&#8217;t punish him, because he can&#8217;t help<br \/>\nit, because his genes or his environment or God made him do it,<br \/>\nand every time somebody does something good, you can&#8217;t honour him<br \/>\nbecause he was a puppet, too.  If you think that everybody around<br \/>\nyou is a puppet why bother talking to them at all?  Why even try<br \/>\nto plan anything or create anything, since everything you plan or<br \/>\ncreate or desire or dream of is just acting out the script your<br \/>\npuppeteer built into you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The priests say that God created our souls, and that just puts<br \/>\nus under the control of another puppeteer.  If God created our<br \/>\nwill, then he&#8217;s responsible for every choice we make.  God, our<br \/>\ngenes, our environment, or some stupid programmer keying in code<br \/>\nat an ancient terminal &#8212; there&#8217;s no way free will can ever exist<br \/>\nif we as individuals are the result of some external cause.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Isn&#8217;t it possible, he wondered, for one person to love another<br \/>\nwithout trying to own each other?  Or is that buried so deep in<br \/>\nour genes that we can never get it out?  Territoriality.  My<br \/>\nwife.  My friend.  My lover.  My outrageous and annoying computer<br \/>\npersonality who&#8217;s about to be shut off at the behest of a half-<br \/>\ncrazy girl with OCD on a planet that I never heard of and how<br \/>\nwill I live without [her] when she&#8217;s gone?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I have too many secrets.  For all these years I&#8217;ve been a<br \/>\nspeaker for the dead, uncovering secrets and helping people to<br \/>\nlive in the light of truth.  Now I no longer tell anyone half of<br \/>\nwhat I know, because if I told the whole truth there would be<br \/>\nfear, hatred, brutality, murder, war.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;re poor little lambs who&#8217;ve lost our way,<br \/>\n Baa!  Baa!  Baa!<br \/>\n We&#8217;re little black sheep who&#8217;ve gone astray,<br \/>\n Baa-aa-aa!<br \/>\n Gentlemen-rankers out on the spree,<br \/>\n Damned from here to Eternity,<br \/>\n God ha&#8217; mercy on such as we,<br \/>\n Baa!  Yah!  Bah!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Rudyard Kipling<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A strange thing happened then.  The Speaker agreed with her that<br \/>\nshe had made a mistake that night, and she knew when he said the<br \/>\nwords that it was true, that his judgement was correct.  And yet<br \/>\nshe felt strangely healed, as if simply speaking her mistake were<br \/>\nenough to purge some of the pain of it.  For the first time,<br \/>\nthen, she caught a glimpse of what the power of speaking might<br \/>\nbe.  It wasn&#8217;t a matter of confession, penance, and absolution,<br \/>\nlike the priests offered.  It was something else entirely.<br \/>\nTelling the story of who she was, and then realizing that she was<br \/>\nno longer the same person.  That she had made a mistake, and the<br \/>\nmistake had changed her, and now she would not make the mistake<br \/>\nagain because she had become someone else, someone less afraid,<br \/>\nsomeone more compassionate.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;How clever of me.  I have found such a pathway into hell that I<br \/>\ncan never get back out.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;But I hope that in the lives of [the characters], you will find<br \/>\nstories worth holding in your memory, perhaps even in your heart.<br \/>\nThat&#8217;s the transaction that counts more than best-seller lists,<br \/>\nroyalty statements, awards, or reviews.  Because in the pages of<br \/>\nthis book, you and I will meet one-on-one, my mind and yours, and<br \/>\nyou will enter a world of my making and dwell there, not as a<br \/>\ncharacter that I control, but as a person with a mind of your<br \/>\nown.  You will make of my story what you need it to be, if you<br \/>\ncan.  I hope my tale is true enough and flexible enough that you<br \/>\ncan make it into a world worth living in.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The danger that keeps me just a little frightened with every<br \/>\nbook I write, however, is that I&#8217;ll overreach myself once too<br \/>\noften and try to write a story that I&#8217;m just plain not talented<br \/>\nor skilful enough to write.  That&#8217;s the dilemma every storyteller<br \/>\nfaces.  It is painful to fail.  But it is far sadder when a<br \/>\nstoryteller stops wanting to try.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Remember, you can think for yourself, or just surrender your<br \/>\nmind.  It&#8217;s your call, but don&#8217;t expect me to pay your bills if<br \/>\nyou decide to surrender.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Professor Zen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You can walk as carefully as you want through a mine field; it<br \/>\nis still a mine field.  But it&#8217;s also true that if you step up to<br \/>\nthe plate worrying that you&#8217;re going to strike out, the odds are<br \/>\nthat you&#8217;re going to strike out.  Not doing a large ambitious<br \/>\nwork because you&#8217;re convinced that Danger Lurks Around Every<br \/>\nCorner, the old &#8216;I might be dead this time next year,&#8217; is a waste<br \/>\nof the Inner Radiance that found you.  It&#8217;s like life insurance.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s betting against yourself.  It&#8217;s blowing out your own flame<br \/>\nbefore someone beats you to it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think the more rational explanation is that the excision of a<br \/>\nfive-to-six-foot leech from the surface of a human body means<br \/>\nthat that body is going to have more of its own blood in its own<br \/>\nveins.  Unless the leech finds another body, it is going to go<br \/>\nhungry.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;These are ideas.  I could say that they just came to me, but it<br \/>\nwould be more accurate to say that I went to them.  Ideas &#8212; and<br \/>\nnew connections between ideas &#8212; lead you away from commonly held<br \/>\nperceptions of reality.  Ideas lead you out here.  Ideas lead you<br \/>\ninto the darkness.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Once a profound truth has been seen, it cannot be &#8216;unseen&#8217;.<br \/>\nThere&#8217;s no &#8216;going back&#8217; to the person you were.  Even if such a<br \/>\npossibility did exist&#8230; why would you want to?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The problem is maddening.  The thing you seek is so close, you<br \/>\nfeel you could reach out and touch it.  You feel it is your<br \/>\nimmutable destiny to do so.  You have not come this far and at<br \/>\nsuch a cost merely to turn around and go back.  There is a<br \/>\nsolution.  Of this you are certain.  Now, no longer a game of<br \/>\nmass, a game of destiny, it has become, instead a contest of<br \/>\nwills.  You focus on That Which You Seek as if your gaze alone<br \/>\nmight bring it closer or narrow the distance between you.  Just<br \/>\nas it feels as if your mind itself will explode from the<br \/>\nstrain&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For the first time in your conscious memory; for the first time<br \/>\nin fact, since your were a baby; a single tear, full and warm,<br \/>\nrolled down your right cheek and you fell into a very deep and<br \/>\nentirely dreamless slumber&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A great deal of talent is lost to the world for want of a little<br \/>\ncourage.  Every day sends to their graves obscure men whom<br \/>\ntimidity prevented from making a first effort.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Sydney Smith<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All courage is a form of constancy.  It is always himself that a<br \/>\ncoward abandons first.  After this all other betrayals come.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Cormac McCarthy<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There is a theory of societal evolution that goes like this:<br \/>\nBarbarians invent a new culture.  A middle class emerges to<br \/>\nmanage and help perpetuate the culture.  An aristocracy<br \/>\neventually develops out of the middle class and devotes their<br \/>\nenergies to making things comfortable for themselves.  Finally, a<br \/>\nnew set of barbarians smash everything apart and destroy the<br \/>\nstatus quo so that the process must start all over again.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Alan Cross<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The secret of the world is this:  the world is entirely circular<br \/>\nand you will go round and round endlessly, never finding what you<br \/>\nwant, unless you have found what you really want inside yourself.<br \/>\nWhen you follow a star you know you will never reach that star;<br \/>\nrather it will guide you to where you want to go.  It&#8217;s a<br \/>\nreference point, not an end in itself, even though you seem to be<br \/>\nfollowing it.  So it is with the world.  It will only ever lead<br \/>\nyou back to yourself.  The end of all your exploring will be to<br \/>\ncease from exploration and know the place for the first time.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Jeanette Winterson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Reason transformed into prejudice is the worst form of<br \/>\nprejudice, because reason is the only instrument for liberation<br \/>\nfrom prejudice.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Allan Bloom<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Reason sits firm and holds the reins, and she will not let the<br \/>\nfeelings burst away and hurry her to wild chasms. The passions<br \/>\nmay rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the<br \/>\ndesires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgement shall<br \/>\nstill have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote<br \/>\nin every decision.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Charlotte Bronte<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People are governed with the head; kindness of heart is little<br \/>\nuse in chess.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;Sebastien-Roch Nicolas De Chamfort<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable.<br \/>\nThere is something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the<br \/>\nintellect.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Oscar Wilde<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;And that&#8217;s the real incentive, isn&#8217;t it?  It&#8217;s not so much the<br \/>\nfact that you get to bask in their God&#8217;s love that&#8217;s the selling<br \/>\npoint, it&#8217;s that you avoid damnation.  Think of it like Coke<br \/>\nputting out an ad that says &#8216;Snapple causes muscle spasms, Pepsi<br \/>\nis infected with AIDS, and tap-water gives you cancer.  So drink<br \/>\nCoke.  Not only do we taste good, we&#8217;re the only alternative to<br \/>\npain and suffering.&#8217;  It&#8217;s actually a pretty good marketing tool.<br \/>\nHumanity, by nature, is an ambivalent animal, given to fits of<br \/>\ninertia, and we&#8217;re more than likely to sit on our noncommittal<br \/>\nbehinds unless there&#8217;s a bogeyman to chase us out of our chairs.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Greg Bulmash<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;No, life may not be easy, it can be lonely.  Full of people we<br \/>\nthink we know, but barely comprehend.  Yet we must always<br \/>\nremember:  it&#8217;s the challenges that define us best, and the<br \/>\nobstacles that illuminate what we&#8217;re truly capable of.  We must<br \/>\nwelcome adversity and embrace struggle, and no matter what we get<br \/>\nfrom life, never give less than 100 percent.  Of course, at the<br \/>\nend of every battle weary day, we fold ourselves into peaceful<br \/>\ndarkness and find comfort in those gentle words&#8230; good night.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;from Profit<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;m pretty good at inventing phrases &#8212; you know, the sort of<br \/>\nwords that suddenly make you jump, almost as though you&#8217;d sat on<br \/>\na pin, they seem so new and exciting even though they&#8217;re about<br \/>\nsomething hypnopaedically obvious.  But that doesn&#8217;t seem enough.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s not enough for the phrases to be good; what you make with<br \/>\nthem ought to be good too.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Aldous Huxley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;m thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feeling that<br \/>\nI&#8217;ve got something important to say and the power to say it &#8212;<br \/>\nonly I don&#8217;t know what it is, and I can&#8217;t make any use of the<br \/>\npower.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Aldous Huxley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[They] like to pretend they live in a universe where there are<br \/>\nno facts, everything is a matter of opinion, and all opinions are<br \/>\nequally valid.  And, of course, they do live in just such a<br \/>\nuniverse.  Unfortunately, it exists entirely inside their own<br \/>\npoorly-stocked minds.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Dr. Rory Coker<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The notion of saving the planet has nothing to do with<br \/>\nintellectual honesty or science.  The fact is that the planet was<br \/>\nhere long before us and will be here long after us.  The planet<br \/>\nis running fine.  What people are talking about is saving<br \/>\nthemselves and saving their middle-class lifestyles and saving<br \/>\ntheir cash flow.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Lynn Margulis<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Welcome to prekindergarten!  You will not die if you discover<br \/>\nthat there are more lines out there than just your own.  In fact,<br \/>\nyou&#8217;ll discover that you will have an advantage if you know more<br \/>\nof them!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;Bernice Johnson Reagon<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;This means that people must somehow get free of this incredible<br \/>\nobsession &#8212; generated by governments and the economy and the<br \/>\nguilt around sex and pleasure &#8212; that they must become<br \/>\nworkaholics.  The workaholic fascination is an illusion and a<br \/>\ntrap that people fall into without even realizing it.  What&#8217;s<br \/>\nneeded is more time for inner work, less time for television;<br \/>\ndetachment from all the myths we&#8217;re steeped in; and the discovery<br \/>\nof a language that will create harmony between a man and a<br \/>\nwoman.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Margo Anand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most<br \/>\nundesirable sentiment.  If you have behaved badly, repent, make<br \/>\nwhat amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving<br \/>\nbetter next time.  On no account brood over your wrongdoing.<br \/>\nRolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Aldous Huxley<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;re like a real family.  Opinionated, argumentative, holding<br \/>\ngrudges, challenging each other.  We challenge each other to be<br \/>\nbetter than we are.  That kind of thing doesn&#8217;t happen at<br \/>\nbarbecues, at ball games, it happens on the job we&#8217;re supposed to<br \/>\ndo.  On the case.  Put down the murder.  The work itself is the<br \/>\nmost important thing.  What we do is important.  We speak for<br \/>\nthose that can no longer speak for themselves.  And you&#8217;re not<br \/>\ngonna ever find anything like that anywhere.  Not in vice, and<br \/>\nnot patrolling the grounds at Disneyland.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When I tell any truth it is not for the sake of convincing those<br \/>\nwho do not know it, but for the sake of defending those who do.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;William Blake<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There are truths which one can only say after having won the<br \/>\nright to say them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Jean Cocteau<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Mere longevity is a good thing for those who watch life from the<br \/>\nsidelines.  For those who play the game, an hour may be a year, a<br \/>\nsingle day&#8217;s work, an achievement for eternity.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Gabriel Heatter<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To see a world in a grain of sand<br \/>\n And a heaven in a wild flower,<br \/>\n Hold infinity in the palm of your hand<br \/>\n And eternity in an hour.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;William Blake<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Mock the devil, and he will flee from thee.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                           &#8211;Bono<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I have discovered that this world is harsh, cruel and nasty<br \/>\nenough without writing off entire classes of individuals on the<br \/>\nbasis of their colour or national origin.  There are enough<br \/>\npeople in the world who can be judged on the basis of their<br \/>\nactions that we don&#8217;t need to judge others merely on the basis of<br \/>\ntheir colour or nationality.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Robert Chase<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What [he] is apparently objecting to is that not everyone takes<br \/>\nhis beliefs seriously.  Indeed, some don&#8217;t seem to respect his<br \/>\nbeliefs at all, and actually poke fun at them.  Well, I have news<br \/>\nfor [him]:  that&#8217;s the nature of a free society.  Opinions don&#8217;t<br \/>\nnecessarily merit respect; they must earn respect in the<br \/>\nmarketplace of ideas.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Jeffrey Shallit<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[He] seems to want it both ways:  the freedom to hold and<br \/>\nexpress beliefs, and immunity from criticism for those beliefs.<br \/>\nThis is the kind of attitude that leads inexorably to<br \/>\ntotalitarianism.  It is to be decried, particularly in a<br \/>\nuniversity environment where the search for truth necessitates<br \/>\nthat no belief be treated as sacred or above scrutiny.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Jeffrey Shallit<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think it would be nice if you could include a greater slant to<br \/>\nthe growing, happy side of your persona &#8212; it wouldn&#8217;t be too<br \/>\nhard to assume (as I erroneously did at first) that you were a<br \/>\ndepression-racked, paranoid loony.  Not so much from this issue,<br \/>\nbut as a general pattern from earlier issues.  I&#8217;ve learnt,<br \/>\nthough.  You&#8217;re not paranoid.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julian Barton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you follow me, I may lead you straight to hell, but if you<br \/>\ntrust me, I will lead you back out again.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Francesco Pfauth<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We ran out of new ideas somewhere around 1978, since then we&#8217;ve<br \/>\nbeen repeating ourselves.  Same songs, same movies, same clothes,<br \/>\neven the same crimes.  Like this Robie guy, no imagination.  He&#8217;s<br \/>\njust part of the rhythm and the rhyme of all this repeating.<br \/>\nThis is 1996, here comes the millennium.  But people are nervous,<br \/>\nthey&#8217;re on edge, they&#8217;re jumpy.  This is supposed to be something<br \/>\nnew.  But we can&#8217;t look that in the face, can we?  So what do we<br \/>\ndo?  We grab a little something from one year in the fifties and<br \/>\na little of something else from some other year, maybe late<br \/>\nsixties.  We think we&#8217;re creating something new and different,<br \/>\nbut really, all we&#8217;re doing is just repeating the same old&#8230;<br \/>\nnothing.  We&#8217;re all copycats.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent<br \/>\npeople and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of<br \/>\nhonest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to<br \/>\nappreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world<br \/>\na bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a<br \/>\nredeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed<br \/>\neasier because you have lived.  This is to have succeeded.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Ralph Waldo Emerson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;No one beneath you can offend you.  No one your equal would.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Jan L. Wells<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The road to truth is long, and lined the entire way with<br \/>\nannoying bastards.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Alexander Jablokov<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We&#8217;re here for a good time, not a long time<br \/>\n So have a good time, the sun can&#8217;t rise everyday.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Trooper<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Knowledge of what is possible is the beginning of happiness.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;George Santayana<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Ignorance is not bliss &#8212; it is oblivion.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Philip Wylie<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Victor Hugo<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Be not afraid of life.  Believe that life is worth living, and<br \/>\nyour belief will help you create the fact.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;William James<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Maybe it was mean, but I really don&#8217;t think so.<br \/>\n You asked for the truth and I told you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Sinead O&#8217;Connor<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What a wonderful day we&#8217;ve had.  You have learned something and,<br \/>\nI have learned something.  Too bad we didn&#8217;t learn it sooner.  We<br \/>\ncould have gone to the movies instead.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;from Perfect Strangers<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Minds are for people who think.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Madman Murdoch<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Since a rational man&#8217;s ambition is unlimited, since his pursuit<br \/>\nand achievement of values is a lifelong process &#8212; and the higher<br \/>\nthe values, the harder the struggle &#8212; he needs a moment, an hour<br \/>\nor some period of time in which he can experience the sense of<br \/>\nhis completed task, the sense of living in a universe where his<br \/>\nvalues have been successfully achieved.  It is like a moment of<br \/>\nrest, a moment to gain fuel to move farther.&#8221; (Anthem)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Many words have been granted me, and some are wise and some are<br \/>\nfalse, but only three are holy:  &#8216;I will it!'&#8221; (Anthem)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the<br \/>\nuniverse or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity.  I<br \/>\nknow not and I care not.  For I know what happiness is possible<br \/>\nto me on earth.  And my happiness is not the means to any end.<br \/>\nIt is the end.  It is its own goal.  It is its own purpose.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Anthem)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish.<br \/>\nI am not a tool for their use.  I am not a servant of their<br \/>\nneeds.  I am not a bandage for their wounds.  I am not a<br \/>\nsacrifice on their altars.&#8221; (Anthem)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think one thing we went through was common to a lot of people:<br \/>\nYou work your whole life to achieve something, then you achieve<br \/>\nit and find out that you still have good days and bad days.  So<br \/>\nyou start thinking, &#8216;Is that all there is?&#8217;  After a while you<br \/>\ncalm down and get back to work.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Elliot Easton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If a man hasn&#8217;t discovered something that he will die for, he<br \/>\nisn&#8217;t fit to live.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                        &#8211;Martin Luther King, Jr.<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Who would fare better in this world of fitful time?  Those who<br \/>\nhave seen the future and live only one life?  Or those who have<br \/>\nnot seen the future and wait to live life?  Or those who deny the<br \/>\nfuture and live two lives?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Alan Lightman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Most people have learned to live in the moment.  The argument<br \/>\ngoes that if the past has uncertain effect on the present, there<br \/>\nis no need to dwell on the past.  And if the present has little<br \/>\neffect on the future, present actions need not be weighed for<br \/>\ntheir consequence.  Rather, each act is an island in time, to be<br \/>\njudged on its own. &#8230; It is a world of impulse.  It is a world<br \/>\nof sincerity.  It is a world in which every word spoken speaks<br \/>\njust to that moment, every glance given has only one meaning.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Alan Lightman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Some make light of decisions, arguing that all possible<br \/>\ndecisions will occur.  In such a world, how could one be<br \/>\nresponsible for his actions?  Others hold that each decision must<br \/>\nbe considered and committed to, that without commitment there is<br \/>\nchaos.  Such people are content to live in contradictory worlds,<br \/>\nso long as they know the reason for each.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Alan Lightman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in<br \/>\ninjustice and tragedy.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of<br \/>\nrespect and joy in each other&#8217;s life.  Rarely do members of one<br \/>\nfamily grow up under the same roof.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Richard Bach<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We believed &#8212; and I personally still believe &#8212; that the so<br \/>\ncalled Voice of God narration, ubiquitous in documentaries<br \/>\ndestined for PBS, is insulting to the audience.  If you believe<br \/>\nin the intelligence of your audience, you don&#8217;t need to tell them<br \/>\nwhat to think and how to process the material they&#8217;re seeing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Jayne Loader<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I was accused of every monstrous vice by public rumour and<br \/>\nprivate rancour; my name, which had been a knightly or noble one,<br \/>\nwas tainted.  I felt that, if what was whispered, and muttered,<br \/>\nand murmured, was true, I was unfit for England; if false,<br \/>\nEngland was unfit for me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Lord Byron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When indignation takes possession of his mind &#8212; and it is<br \/>\neasily excited &#8212; his disposition becomes malevolent.  He hates<br \/>\nwith the bitterest contempt.  But as soon as he has indulged<br \/>\nthose feelings, he regains the humanity which he had lost &#8212; from<br \/>\nthe immediate impulse of provocation &#8212; and repents deeply.  So<br \/>\nthat his mind is continually making the most sudden transitions &#8211;<br \/>\n&#8211; from good to evil, from evil to good.  A state of such<br \/>\nperpetual tumult must be attended with the misery of restless<br \/>\ninconsistency.  He laments his want of tranquillity and speaks of<br \/>\nthe power of application to composing studies, as a blessing<br \/>\nplaced beyond his attainment, which he regrets.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Annabella Milbanke<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You sit around watching all this stuff happen on TV&#8230; and the<br \/>\nTV sits and watches us do nothing!  The TV must think we&#8217;re all<br \/>\npretty lame.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Shannon Wheeler<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can never get people to understand that poetry is the<br \/>\nexpression of excited passion, and that there is no such thing as<br \/>\na life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or and<br \/>\neternal fever.  Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such<br \/>\na state?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Lord Byron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Poetry, even that of the loftiest, and seemingly, that of the<br \/>\nwildest odes, [has] a logic of its own as severe as that of<br \/>\nscience; and more difficult, because more subtle, more complex,<br \/>\nand dependent on more and more fugitive causes.  In the truly<br \/>\ngreat poets&#8230; there is a reason assignable, not only for every<br \/>\nword, but for the position of every word.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                        &#8211;Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[His mind] was like a volcano, full of fire and wealth,<br \/>\nsometimes calm, often dazzling and playful, but ever threatening.<br \/>\nIt ran swift as the lightning from one subject to another, and<br \/>\noccasionally burst forth in passionate throes of intellect,<br \/>\nnearly allied to madness.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Lady Blessington<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape<br \/>\nthose who dream only by night.  In their grey visions they obtain<br \/>\nglimpses of eternity&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Edgar Allan Poe<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I see at last that all the knowledge<br \/>\n I wrung from the darkness &#8212; that darkness flung me &#8212;<br \/>\n Is worthless as ignorance:  nothing comes from nothing<br \/>\n The darkness from the darkness.  Pain comes from the darkness<br \/>\n And we call it wisdom.  It is pain.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Randall Jarrell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Is getting well ever an art, or art a way to get well?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8212;-Robert Lowell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Writing is a form of therapy.  Sometimes I wonder how all those<br \/>\nwho do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the<br \/>\nmadness, the melancholia, the panic fear which is inherent in the<br \/>\nhuman situation.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Graham Greene<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8230; You don&#8217;t like my &#8216;restless&#8217; doctrines &#8212; I should be very<br \/>\nsorry if you did &#8212; but I can&#8217;t stagnate nevertheless &#8212; if I<br \/>\nmust said let it be on the ocean no matter how stormy &#8212; anything<br \/>\nbut a dull cruise on a level lake without ever losing sight of<br \/>\nthe same insipid shores by which it is surrounded.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Lord Byron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I had hit a critical period in my life, where I changed very<br \/>\nmuch as a person.  I consider the person I used to be, dead, and<br \/>\nI&#8217;m glad that he is.  Insecure, frightened, confused, much like a<br \/>\nlot of people I know today.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Peter Steele<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I always think the same thing when I read about someone<br \/>\ncommitting suicide.  I think, &#8216;There, but for the grace of God,<br \/>\ngo I.&#8217;  I think, &#8216;There&#8217;s only a twist of Fate between me and<br \/>\nthem.&#8217;  I think, &#8216;It could have been me.&#8217;  I think, &#8216;I  hope that<br \/>\nI can give someone else a reason to live through today so that he<br \/>\nor she will give me a reason to live through tomorrow.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Dahven White<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Opinion is a denial of truth.  For if each man is entitled to<br \/>\nhis own opinion then there can be nothing which is false,<br \/>\nconsequently there can be nothing which is true.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Andrew Juric<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret<br \/>\nweapon.  A happiness weapon.  A Beauty Bomb.  And every time a<br \/>\ncrisis developed, we would launch one.  It would explode high in<br \/>\nthe air &#8212; explode softly &#8212; and send thousands, millions, of<br \/>\nlittle parachutes into the air.  Floating down to earth &#8212; boxes<br \/>\nof Crayolas.  And we wouldn&#8217;t go cheap, either &#8212; not little<br \/>\nboxes of eight.  Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built<br \/>\nright in.  With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and<br \/>\nlime, amber and umber and all the rest.  And people would smile<br \/>\nand get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world<br \/>\nwith imagination.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Robert Fulghum<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize<br \/>\nit, than to accept life unquestioningly.  Everything we shut our<br \/>\neyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny,<br \/>\ndenigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end.  What<br \/>\nseems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy,<br \/>\nand strength, if faced with an open mind.  Every moment is a<br \/>\ngolden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Henry Miller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The dissenter is every human being at those moments of his life<br \/>\nwhen he resigns momentarily from the herd and thinks for<br \/>\nhimself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Archibald MacLeish<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is remarkable how much mediocrity we live with, surrounding<br \/>\nourselves with daily reminders that the average is acceptable.<br \/>\nOur world suffers from terminal normality.  Take a moment to<br \/>\nassess all of the things around you that promote your being<br \/>\n&#8216;average&#8217;.  These are the things that keep you powerless to go<br \/>\nbeyond a &#8216;limit&#8217; you arbitrarily set for yourself.  The first<br \/>\nstep to having what your really want is the removal of everything<br \/>\nin your environment that represents mediocrity, removing those<br \/>\nthings that are limiting.  One way is to surround yourself with<br \/>\nfriends who ask more of you than you do.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Stewart Emery<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I am speaking to those among you who have retained some<br \/>\nsovereign shred of their soul, unsold and unstamped:  &#8216;&#8211; to the<br \/>\norder of others&#8217;.  If, in the chaos of the motives that have made<br \/>\nyou listen to the radio tonight, there was an honest, rational<br \/>\ndesire to learn what is wrong with the world, you are the man<br \/>\nwhom I wished to address.  By the rules and terms of my code, one<br \/>\nowes a rational statement to those whom it does concern and who<br \/>\nare making an effort to know.  Those who are making an effort to<br \/>\nfail to understand me, are not a concern of mine.&#8221;  (Atlas 981)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Just as I support my life, neither by robbery nor alms, but by<br \/>\nmy own effort, so I do not seek to derive my happiness from the<br \/>\ninjury or the favour others of , but earn it by my own<br \/>\nachievement.  Just as I do not consider the pleasure of others as<br \/>\nthe goal of my life, so I do not consider my pleasure as the goal<br \/>\nof the lives of others.  Just as there are no contradictions in<br \/>\nmy values and no conflicts among my desires &#8212; so there are no<br \/>\nvictims and no conflicts of interest among rational men, men who<br \/>\ndo not desire the unearned and do not view one another with a<br \/>\ncannibal&#8217;s lust, men who neither make sacrifice nor accept them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Honesty is the recognition of the fact that the unreal is unreal<br \/>\nand can have no value, that neither love nor fame nor cash is a<br \/>\nvalue if obtained by fraud &#8212; that an attempt to gain a value by<br \/>\ndeceiving the mind of others is an act of raising your victims to<br \/>\na position higher than reality, where you become a pawn of their<br \/>\nblindness, a slave of their non-thinking and their evasions,<br \/>\nwhile their intelligence, their rationality, their perceptiveness<br \/>\nbecome the enemies you have to dread and flee &#8212; that you do not<br \/>\ncare to live as a dependent, least of all a dependent on the<br \/>\nstupidity of others, or as a fool whose source of values is the<br \/>\nfools he succeeds in fooling &#8212; that honesty is not a social<br \/>\nduty, not a sacrifice for the sake of others, but the most<br \/>\nprofoundly selfish virtue man can practice:  his refusal to<br \/>\nsacrifice the reality of his own existence to the deluded<br \/>\nconsciousness of others.&#8221;  (Atlas 937)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;My morality, the morality of reason, is contained in a single<br \/>\naxiom:  existence exists &#8212; and in a single choice:  to live.<br \/>\nThe rest proceeds from these.  To live, man must hold three<br \/>\nthings as the supreme and ruling values of his life:  Reason &#8212;<br \/>\nPurpose &#8212; Self-esteem.  Reason, as his only tool of knowledge &#8212;<br \/>\nPurpose, as his choice of the happiness which that tool must<br \/>\nproceed to achieve &#8212; Self-esteem, as his inviolate certainty<br \/>\nthat his mind is competent to think and his person is worth of<br \/>\nhappiness, which means:  is worthy of living.  These three values<br \/>\nimply and require all of man&#8217;s virtues, and all his virtues<br \/>\npertain to the relation of existence and consciousness:<br \/>\nrationality, independence, integrity, honesty, justice,<br \/>\nproductiveness, pride.&#8221;  (Atlas 936)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You who prattle that morality is social and that man would need<br \/>\nno morality on a desert island &#8212; it is on a desert island that<br \/>\nhe would need it most.  Let him try to claim, when there are no<br \/>\nvictims to pay for it, that a rock is a house, that sand is<br \/>\nclothing, that food will drop into his mouth without cause or<br \/>\neffort, that he will collect a harvest tomorrow by devouring his<br \/>\nstock seed today &#8212; and reality will wipe him out, as he<br \/>\ndeserves; reality will show him that life is a value to be bought<br \/>\nand that thinking is the only coin noble enough to buy it.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Atlas 936)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A rational process is a moral process.  You may make an error at<br \/>\nany step of it, with nothing to protect you but your own<br \/>\nseverity, or you may try to cheat, to fake the evidence and evade<br \/>\nthe effort of the quest &#8212; but if devotion to the truth is the<br \/>\nhallmark of morality, then there is no greater, nobler, more<br \/>\nheroic form of devotion than the act of a man who assumes the<br \/>\nresponsibility of thinking.&#8221;  (Atlas 935)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;No matter how vast your knowledge or how modest, it is your own<br \/>\nmind that has to acquire it.  It is only with your own knowledge<br \/>\nthat you can deal.  It is only your own knowledge that you can<br \/>\nclaim to possess or ask others to consider.  Your mind is your<br \/>\nonly judge of truth &#8212; and if others dissent from your verdict,<br \/>\nreality is the court of final appeal.  Nothing but a man&#8217;s mind<br \/>\ncan perform that complex, delicate, crucial process of<br \/>\nidentification which is thinking.  Nothing can direct the process<br \/>\nbut his own judgement.  Nothing can direct his judgement but his<br \/>\nmoral integrity.&#8221;  (Atlas 935)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;But neither life nor happiness can be achieved by the pursuit of<br \/>\nirrational whims.  Just as man is free to attempt to survive in<br \/>\nany random manner, but will perish unless he lives as his nature<br \/>\nrequires, so he is free to seek his happiness in any mindless<br \/>\nfraud, but the torture of frustration is all he will find, unless<br \/>\nhe seeks the happiness proper to man.  The purpose of morality is<br \/>\nto teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and<br \/>\nlive.&#8221;  (Atlas 932)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For centuries, the battle of morality was fought between those<br \/>\nwho claimed that your life belongs to God and those who claimed<br \/>\nthat it belongs to your neighbours &#8212; between those who preached<br \/>\nthat the good is self-sacrifice for the sake of ghosts in heaven<br \/>\nand those who preached that the good is self-sacrifice for the<br \/>\nsake of incompetents on earth.  And no one came to say that your<br \/>\nlife belongs to you and that the good is to live it.&#8221;  (Atlas<br \/>\n930)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The lust that drives others to enslave an empire, had become, in<br \/>\nher limits, a passion for power over him.  She had set out to<br \/>\nbreak him, as if, unable to equal his value, she could surpass it<br \/>\nby destroying it, as if the measure of his greatness would thus<br \/>\nbecome the measure of hers, as if the vandal who smashed a statue<br \/>\nwere greater than the artist who had made it, as if the murderer<br \/>\nwho killed a child were greater than the mother who had given it<br \/>\nbirth.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s not that I don&#8217;t suffer, it&#8217;s that I know the unimportance<br \/>\nof suffering, I know that pain is to be fought and thrown aside,<br \/>\nnot to be accepted as part of one&#8217;s soul and as a permanent scar<br \/>\nacross one&#8217;s view of existence.  Don&#8217;t feel sorry for me.  It was<br \/>\ngone right then.&#8221;  (Atlas 883)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Yes&#8230; Yes, I feel that there&#8217;s no chance for me to exist, if<br \/>\nthey do&#8230; no chance, no room, no world I can cope with&#8230; I<br \/>\ndon&#8217;t want to feel it, I keep pushing it back, but it&#8217;s coming<br \/>\ncloser and I know I have no place to run&#8230; I can&#8217;t explain what<br \/>\nit feels like, I can&#8217;t catch hold of it &#8212; and that&#8217;s path of the<br \/>\nterror, that you can&#8217;t catch hold of anything &#8212; it&#8217;s as if the<br \/>\nwhole world were suddenly destroyed, but not by an explosion &#8212;<br \/>\nan explosion is something hard and solid &#8212; but destroyed by &#8230;<br \/>\nby some horrible kind of softening &#8230; as if nothing were solid,<br \/>\nnothing held any shape at all, and you could poke your finger<br \/>\nthrough stone walls and the stone would give, like jelly, and<br \/>\nmountains would slither, and buildings would switch their shapes<br \/>\nlike clouds &#8212; and that would be the end of the world, not fire<br \/>\nand brimstone, but goo.&#8221;  (Atlas 819)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Whenever anyone accuses some person of being &#8216;unfeeling,&#8217; he<br \/>\nmeans that that person is just.  He means that that person has no<br \/>\ncauseless emotions and will not grant him a feeling which he does<br \/>\nnot deserve.  He means that &#8216;to feel&#8217; is to go against reason,<br \/>\nagainst moral values, against reality.&#8221;  (Atlas 818)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;My pride and my power of vision were all that I owned when I<br \/>\nstarted &#8212; and whatever I achieved, was achieved by means of<br \/>\nthem.  Both are greater now.  Now I have the knowledge of the<br \/>\nsuperlative value I had missed:  of my right to be proud of my<br \/>\nvision.  The rest is mine to reach.&#8221;  (Atlas 793)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Everything matters!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;from S.F.W.<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ll come back, because yours is an error of knowledge, not a<br \/>\nmoral failure, not an act of surrender to evil, but only the last<br \/>\nact of being victim to your own virtue.  We&#8217;ll wait for you and<br \/>\nwhen you come back, you will have discovered that there need<br \/>\nnever be any conflict among your desires, nor so tragic a clash<br \/>\nof values as the one you&#8217;ve borne so well.&#8221;  (Atlas 744)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If you want to know the one reason that&#8217;s taking me back, I&#8217;ll<br \/>\ntell you:  I cannot bring myself to abandon to destruction all<br \/>\nthe greatness of the world, all that which was mine and yours,<br \/>\nwhich was made by us and is still ours by right &#8212; because I<br \/>\ncannot believe that men refuse to see, that they can remain blind<br \/>\nand deaf to us forever, when the truth is ours and their lives<br \/>\ndepend on accepting it. &#8230; So long as men desire to live, I<br \/>\ncannot lose my battle.&#8221;  (Atlas 744)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Don&#8217;t consider our interests or desires.  You have no duty to<br \/>\nanyone but yourself.&#8221;  (Atlas 740)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Don&#8217;t rely on our knowledge of what&#8217;s best for your future.  We<br \/>\ndo know, but it can&#8217;t be best until you know it.&#8221;  (Atlas 740)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Consider the reasons which make us certain that we are right,<br \/>\nbut not the fact that we are certain.  If you are not convinced,<br \/>\nignore our certainty.  Don&#8217;t be tempted to substitute our<br \/>\njudgement for your own.&#8221;  (Atlas 740)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If any part of your uncertainty, is a conflict between your<br \/>\nheart and your mind &#8212; follow your mind.&#8221;  (Atlas 740)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Did it ever occur to you, that there is no conflict of interests<br \/>\namong men, neither in business nor in trade nor in their most<br \/>\npersonal desires &#8212; if they omit the irrational from their view<br \/>\nof the possible and destruction from their view of the practical?<br \/>\nThere is no conflict, and no call for sacrifice, and no man is a<br \/>\nthreat to the aims of another &#8212; if men understand that reality<br \/>\nis an absolute not to be faked, that lies do not work, that the<br \/>\nunearned cannot be had, that the undeserved cannot be given, that<br \/>\nthe destruction of a value which is, will not bring value to that<br \/>\nwhich isn&#8217;t.&#8221;  (Atlas 736)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Every man builds his world in his own image.  He has the power<br \/>\nto choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.  If he<br \/>\nabdicates his power, he abdicates the status of man, and the<br \/>\ngrinding chaos of the irrational is what he achieves as his<br \/>\nsphere of existence &#8212; by his own choice.&#8221;  (Atlas 729)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I want you to observe, that those who cry the loudest about<br \/>\ntheir disillusionment, about the failure of virtue, the futility<br \/>\nof reason, the impotence of logic &#8212; are those who have achieved<br \/>\nthe full, exact, logical result of the ideas they preached, so<br \/>\nmercilessly logical that they dare not identify it.  In a world<br \/>\nthat proclaims the non-existence of the mind, the moral<br \/>\nrighteousness of rule by brute force, the penalizing of the<br \/>\ncompetent in favour of the incompetent, the sacrifice of the best<br \/>\nto the worst &#8212; in such a world, the best have to turn against<br \/>\nsociety and have to become it&#8217;s deadliest enemies.&#8221;  (Atlas 729)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What I want you to understand, is the full evil of those who<br \/>\nclaim to have become convinced that this earth, by its nature, is<br \/>\na realm of malevolence where the good has no chance to win.  Let<br \/>\nthem check their premises.  Let them check their standards of<br \/>\nvalue.  Let them check &#8212; before they grant themselves the<br \/>\nunspeakable license of evil-as-necessity &#8212; whether they know<br \/>\nwhat is the good and what are the conditions it requires.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Atlas 729)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I sat there beside him till morning &#8212; and as I watched his face<br \/>\nin the starlight, then the first ray of the sun on his untroubled<br \/>\nforehead and closed eyelids, what I experienced was not a prayer,<br \/>\nI do not pray, but that state of spirit at which a prayer is a<br \/>\nmisguided attempt:  a full, confident, affirming self-dedication<br \/>\nto my love of the right, to the certainty that the right would<br \/>\nwin and that this boy would have the kind of future he deserved.<br \/>\n&#8230;  I did not expect it to be as great as this &#8212; or as hard.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Atlas 727)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;She can live through it, because we do not hold the belief that<br \/>\nthis earth is a realm of misery where man is doomed to<br \/>\ndestruction.  We do not think that tragedy is our natural fate<br \/>\nand we do not live in chronic dread of disaster.  We do not<br \/>\nexpect disaster until we have specific reason to expect it &#8212; and<br \/>\nwhen we encounter it, we are free to fight it.  It is not<br \/>\nhappiness, but suffering that we consider unnatural.  It is not<br \/>\nsuccess, but calamity that we regard as the abnormal exception in<br \/>\nhuman life.&#8221;  (Atlas 700)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Why should this seem so startling?  There is only one kind of<br \/>\nmen who have never been on strike in human history.  Every other<br \/>\nkind and class have stopped, when they so wished, and have<br \/>\npresented demands to the world, claiming to be indispensable &#8212;<br \/>\nexcept the men who have carried the world on their shoulders,<br \/>\nhave kept it alive, have endured torture as sole payment, but<br \/>\nhave never walked out on the human race.  Well, their turn has<br \/>\ncome.  Let the world discover who they are, what they do and what<br \/>\nhappens when they refuse to function.  This is the strike of the<br \/>\nmen of the mind.  This is the mind on strike.&#8221;  (Atlas 681)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;God help us, ma&#8217;am!  Do you see what we saw?  We saw that we&#8217;d<br \/>\nbeen given a law to live by, a moral law, they called it, which<br \/>\npunished those who observed it &#8212; for observing it.  The more you<br \/>\ntried to live up to it, the more you suffered; the more you<br \/>\ncheated it, the bigger reward you got.  Your honesty was like a<br \/>\ntool left at the mercy of the next man&#8217;s dishonesty.  The honest<br \/>\nones paid, the dishonest collected.  The honest lost, the<br \/>\ndishonest won.  How long could men stay good under this sort of a<br \/>\nlaw of goodness?&#8221;  (Atlas 613)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A painting is never finished &#8212; it simply stops in interesting<br \/>\nplaces.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Paul Gardner<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I wish I could take language<br \/>\n And fold it like cool, moist rags.<br \/>\n I would lay words on your forehead.<br \/>\n I would wrap words on your wrists.<br \/>\n &#8216;There, there,&#8217; my words would say &#8212;<br \/>\n Or something better.<br \/>\n I would ask them to murmur,<br \/>\n &#8216;Hush&#8217; and &#8216;Shh, shhh, it&#8217;s all right.&#8217;<br \/>\n I would ask them to hold you all night.<br \/>\n I wish I could take language<br \/>\n And daub and soothe and cool<br \/>\n Where fever blisters and burns,<br \/>\n Where fever turns yourself against you.<br \/>\n I wish I could take language<br \/>\n And heal the words that were the wounds<br \/>\n You have no names for.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julia Cameron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Growth is a spiral process, doubling back on itself, reassessing<br \/>\nand regrouping.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julia Cameron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight<br \/>\nof the shore for a very long time.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Andr\ufffd Gide<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The clock is ticking and you&#8217;re hearing the beat.  You stop by a<br \/>\nmuseum shop, sign your name on a scuba-diving sheet, and commit<br \/>\nyourself to Saturday mornings in the deep end.  You&#8217;re either<br \/>\nlosing your mind &#8212; or gaining your soul.  Life is meant to be an<br \/>\nartist date.  That&#8217;s why we were created.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julia Cameron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I finally realized that it wasn&#8217;t Starfleet that I was trying to<br \/>\nget away from.  I was trying to escape the pain I felt, after my<br \/>\nwife&#8217;s death.  I thought I could take the uniform, wrap it around<br \/>\nthe pain and toss them both away.  But it doesn&#8217;t work like that.<br \/>\nRunning may help for a little while, but sooner or later the pain<br \/>\ncatches up with you, and the only way to get rid of it is to<br \/>\nstand your ground.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;from Deep Space Nine<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is said that [Robin Hood] fought against the looting rulers<br \/>\nand returned the loot to those who had been robbed, but that is<br \/>\nnot the meaning of the legend which has survived.  He is<br \/>\nremembered, not as a champion of property, but as a champion of<br \/>\nneed, not as a defender of the robbed, but as a provider of the<br \/>\npoor.  He is held to be the first man who assumed a halo of<br \/>\nvirtue by practising charity with wealth which he did not own, by<br \/>\ngiving away goods which he had not produced, by making others pay<br \/>\nfor the luxury of his pity.  He is the man who became the symbol<br \/>\nof the idea that need, not achievement, is the source of rights,<br \/>\nthat we don&#8217;t have to produce, only to want, that the earned does<br \/>\nnot belong to us, but the unearned does.  He became a<br \/>\njustification for every mediocrity who, unable to make his own<br \/>\nliving, had demanded the power to dispose of the property of his<br \/>\nbetters, by proclaiming his willingness to devote his life to his<br \/>\ninferiors at the price of robbing his superiors.&#8221;  (Atlas 534)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;John Galt is Prometheus who changed his mind.  After centuries<br \/>\nof being torn by vultures in payment for having brought to men<br \/>\nthe fire of the gods, he broke his chains and he withdrew his<br \/>\nfire &#8212; until the day when men withdraw their vultures.&#8221;  (Atlas<br \/>\n480)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[He] stood motionless, not turning to the crowd, barely hearing<br \/>\nthe applause.  He stood looking at the judges.  There was no<br \/>\ntriumph in his face, no elation, only the still intensity of<br \/>\ncontemplating a vision with a bitter wonder that was almost fear.<br \/>\nHe was seeing the enormity of the smallness of the enemy who was<br \/>\ndestroying the devastation, past the ruins of great factories,<br \/>\nthe wrecks of powerful engines, the bodies of invincible men, he<br \/>\nhad come upon the despoiler, expecting to find a giant &#8212; and had<br \/>\nfound a rat eager to scurry for cover at the first sound of a<br \/>\nhuman step.  If this is what has beaten us, he thought, the guilt<br \/>\nis ours.&#8221;  (Atlas 449)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I could say to you that I have done more good for my fellow man<br \/>\nthan you can ever hope to accomplish &#8212; but I will not say it,<br \/>\nbecause I do not seek the good of others as a sanction for my<br \/>\nright to exist, nor do I recognize the good of others as a<br \/>\njustification for their seizure of my property or their<br \/>\ndestruction of my life.  I will not say that the good of others<br \/>\nwas the purpose of my work &#8212; my own good was my purpose, and I<br \/>\ndespise the man who surrenders his.  I could say to you that you<br \/>\ndo not serve the public good &#8212; that nobody&#8217;s good can be<br \/>\nachieved at the price of human sacrifices &#8212; that when you<br \/>\nviolate the rights of one man, you have violated the rights of<br \/>\nall, and a public of rightless creatures is doomed to<br \/>\ndestruction.  I could say that you that you will and can achieve<br \/>\nnothing but universal devastation &#8212; as any looter must, when he<br \/>\nruns out of victims.  I could say it, but I won&#8217;t.  It is not<br \/>\nyour particular policy that I challenge, but your moral premise.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Atlas 447)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I am rich and proud of every penny I own.  I made my money by my<br \/>\nown effort, in free exchange and through the voluntary consent of<br \/>\nevery man I dealt with &#8212; the voluntary consent of those who<br \/>\nemployed me when I started, the voluntary consent of those who<br \/>\nwork for me now, the voluntary consent of those who buy my<br \/>\nproduct.  I shall answer all the questions you are afraid to ask<br \/>\nme openly.  Do I wish to pay my workers more than their services<br \/>\nare worth to me?  I do not.  Do I wish to sell my product for<br \/>\nless than my customers are willing to pay me?  I do not.  Do I<br \/>\nwish to sell it at a loss or give it away?  I do not.  If this is<br \/>\nevil, do whatever you please about me, according to whatever<br \/>\nstandards you hold.  These are mine.  I am earning my own living,<br \/>\nas every honest man must.  I refuse to accept as guilt the fact<br \/>\nof my own existence and the fact that I must work in order to<br \/>\nsupport it.  I refuse to accept as guilt the fact that I am able<br \/>\nto do it and do it well.  I refuse to accept as guilt the fact<br \/>\nthat I am able to do it better than most people &#8212; the fact that<br \/>\nmy work is of greater value than the work of my neighbours and<br \/>\nthat more men are willing to pay me.  I refuse to apologize for<br \/>\nmy ability &#8212; I refuse to apologize for my success &#8212; I refuse to<br \/>\napologize for my money.&#8221;  (Atlas 446-7)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Did you ask me to name man&#8217;s motive power?  Man&#8217;s motive power<br \/>\nis his moral code.  Ask yourself where their code is leading you<br \/>\nand what it offers you as your final goal.  A viler evil than to<br \/>\nmurder a man, is to sell him suicide as an act of virtue.  A<br \/>\nviler evil than to throw a man into a sacrificial furnace, is to<br \/>\ndemand that he leap in, of his own will, and that he build the<br \/>\nfurnace, besides.  By their own statement, it is they who need<br \/>\nyou and have nothing to offer you in return.  By their own<br \/>\nstatement, you must support them because they cannot survive<br \/>\nwithout you.  Consider the obscenity of offering their impotence<br \/>\nand their need &#8212; their need of you &#8212; as a justification for<br \/>\nyour torture.  Are you willing to accept it?  Do you care to<br \/>\npurchase &#8212; at the price of your great endurance, at the price of<br \/>\nyou agony &#8212; the satisfaction of the needs of your own<br \/>\ndestroyers?&#8221;  (Atlas 423-4)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All your life, you have heard yourself denounced; not for your<br \/>\nfaults, but for your greatest virtues.  You have been hated, not<br \/>\nfor your mistakes, but for your achievements.  You have been<br \/>\nscorned for all those qualities of character which are your<br \/>\nhighest pride.  You have been called selfish for the courage of<br \/>\nacting on your own judgement and bearing sole responsibility for<br \/>\nyour own life.  You have been called arrogant for your<br \/>\nindependent mind.  You have been called cruel for your unyielding<br \/>\nintegrity.  You have been called anti-social for the vision that<br \/>\nmade you venture upon undiscovered roads.  You have been called<br \/>\nruthless for the strength and self-discipline of your drive to<br \/>\nyour purpose.  You have been called greedy for the magnificence<br \/>\nof your power to create wealth.  You, who&#8217;ve expended an<br \/>\ninconceivable flow of energy, have been called a parasite.  You,<br \/>\nwho&#8217;ve created abundance where there had been nothing but<br \/>\nwastelands and helpless, starving men before you, have been<br \/>\ncalled a robber.  You, who&#8217;ve kept them all alive, have been<br \/>\ncalled an exploiter.  You, the purest and most moral man among<br \/>\nthem, have been sneered at as a &#8216;vulgar materialist.&#8217;  Have you<br \/>\nstopped to ask them:  by what right?  &#8212; by what code? &#8212; by what<br \/>\nstandard?&#8221;  (Atlas 422-3)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Did you really think that we wanted those laws to be observed?<br \/>\n&#8230; We want them broken.  You&#8217;d better get it straight that it&#8217;s<br \/>\nnot a bunch of boy scouts you&#8217;re up against &#8212; then you&#8217;ll know<br \/>\nthat this is not the age for beautiful gestures.  We&#8217;re after<br \/>\npower and we mean it.  You fellows were pikers, but we know the<br \/>\nreal trick, and you&#8217;d better get wise to it.  There&#8217;s no way to<br \/>\nrule innocent men.  The only power any government has is the<br \/>\npower to crack down on criminals.  Well, when there aren&#8217;t enough<br \/>\ncriminals, one makes them.  One declares so many things to be a<br \/>\ncrime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking<br \/>\nlaws.  Who wants a nation of law-abiding citizens?  What&#8217;s there<br \/>\nin that for anyone?  But just pass the kind of laws that can<br \/>\nneither be observed nor enforced nor objectively interpreted &#8212;<br \/>\nand you create a nation of law-breakers &#8212; and then you case in<br \/>\non guilt.  Now that&#8217;s the system, that&#8217;s the game, and once you<br \/>\nunderstand it, you&#8217;ll be much easier to deal with.&#8221;  (Atlas 406)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;That woman and all those like her keep evading the thoughts<br \/>\nwhich they know to be good.  You keep pushing out of your mind<br \/>\nthe thoughts which you believe to be evil.  They do it, because<br \/>\nthey want to avoid effort.  You do it, because you won&#8217;t permit<br \/>\nyourself to consider anything that would spare you.  They indulge<br \/>\ntheir emotions at any cost.  You sacrifice your emotions as the<br \/>\nfirst cost of any problem.  They are willing to bear nothing.<br \/>\nYou are willing to bear anything.  They keep evading<br \/>\nresponsibility.  You keep assuming it.  But don&#8217;t you see that<br \/>\nthe essential error is the same?  Any refusal to recognize<br \/>\nreality, for any reason whatever, has disastrous consequences.<br \/>\nThere are no evil thoughts except one:  the refusal to think.<br \/>\nDon&#8217;t ignore your own desires.  Don&#8217;t sacrifice them.  Examine<br \/>\ntheir cause.  There is a limit to how much you should have to<br \/>\nbear.&#8221;  (Atlas 389)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Or did you say it&#8217;s the love of money that&#8217;s the root of all<br \/>\nevil?  To love a thing is to know its nature.  To love money is<br \/>\nto known and love the fact that money is the creation of the best<br \/>\npower within you, and your passkey to trade your effort for the<br \/>\neffort of the best among men.  It&#8217;s the person who would sell his<br \/>\nsoul for a nickel, who is loudest in proclaiming his hatred of<br \/>\nmoney &#8212; and he has good reason to hate it.  The lovers of money<br \/>\nare willing to work for it.  They know they are able to deserve<br \/>\nit.&#8221;  (Atlas 384)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Money is your means of survival.  The verdict you pronounce upon<br \/>\nthe source of your livelihood is the verdict you pronounce upon<br \/>\nyour life.  If the source is corrupt, you have damned your own<br \/>\nexistence.  Did you get your money by fraud?  By pandering to<br \/>\nmen&#8217;s vices or men&#8217;s stupidity?  By catering to fools, in the<br \/>\nhope of getting more than your ability deserves?  By lowering<br \/>\nyour standards?  By doing work you despise for purchasers your<br \/>\nscorn?  If so, then your money will not give you a moment&#8217;s or a<br \/>\npenny&#8217;s worth of joy.  Then all the things you buy will become,<br \/>\nnot a tribute to you, but a reproach; not an achievement, but a<br \/>\nreminder of shame.  Then you&#8217;ll scream that money is evil.  Evil,<br \/>\nbecause it would not pinch-hit for your self-respect?  Evil,<br \/>\nbecause it would not let you enjoy your depravity?  Is this the<br \/>\nroot of your hatred of money?&#8221;  (Atlas 384)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Only the man who does not need it, is fit to inherit wealth &#8212;<br \/>\nthe man who would make his own fortune no matter where he<br \/>\nstarted.  If an heir is equal to his money, it serves him; if<br \/>\nnot, it destroys him.  But you look on and you cry that money<br \/>\ncorrupted him.  Did it?  Or did he corrupt his money?  Do not<br \/>\nenvy a worthless heir; his wealth is not yours and you would have<br \/>\ndone no better with it.  Do not think that it should have been<br \/>\ndistributed among you; loading the world with fifty parasites<br \/>\ninstead of one, would not bring back the dead virtue which was<br \/>\nthe fortune.  Money is a living power that dies without its root.<br \/>\nMoney will not serve the mind that cannot match it.  Is this the<br \/>\nreason why you call it evil?&#8221;  (Atlas 384)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;But you say that money is made by the strong at the expense of<br \/>\nthe weak?  What strength do you mean?  It is not the strength of<br \/>\nguns or muscles.  Wealth is the product of man&#8217;s capacity to<br \/>\nthink.  Then is money made by the mad who invents a motor at the<br \/>\nexpense of those who did not invent it?  Is money made by the<br \/>\nintelligent at the expense of the fools?  By the able at the<br \/>\nexpense of the incompetent?  By the ambitious at the expense of<br \/>\nthe lazy?  Money is made &#8212; before it can be looted or mooched &#8212;<br \/>\nmade by the effort of every honest man, each to the extent of his<br \/>\nability.  An honest man is one who knows that he can&#8217;t consume<br \/>\nmore than he has produced.&#8221;  (Atlas 383)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think it&#8217;s funny.  There was a time when men were afraid that<br \/>\nsomebody would reveal some secret of theirs that was unknown to<br \/>\ntheir fellows.  Nowadays, they&#8217;re afraid that somebody will name<br \/>\nwhat everybody knows.  Have you practical people ever though that<br \/>\nthat&#8217;s all it would take to blast your whole, big, complex<br \/>\nstructure, with all your laws and guns &#8212; just somebody naming<br \/>\nthe exact nature of what you&#8217;re doing?&#8221;  (Atlas 379)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;No longer conscious of my movement, I discovered a new unity<br \/>\nwith nature.  I had found a new source of power and beauty, a<br \/>\nsource I never dreamt existed.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Roger Bannister<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What moves men of genius, or rather what inspires their work, is<br \/>\nnot new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has<br \/>\nalready been said is still not enough.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Eug\u7a6be Delacroix<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything<br \/>\nbut the best, you very often get it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;W. Somerset Maugham<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He who knows others is wise; he who knows himself is<br \/>\nenlightened.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                        &#8211;Lao-tzu<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter<br \/>\ndo good things.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Edgar Degas<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The unconscious wants truth.  It ceases to speak to those who<br \/>\nwant something else more than truth.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Adrienne Rich<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Truly, it is in the darkness that one finds the light, so when<br \/>\nwe are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Meister Eckhart<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Jalal ud-Din Rumi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When we are really honest with ourselves we must admit our lives<br \/>\nare all that really belong to us.  So it is how we use our lives<br \/>\nthat determines the kind of men we are.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Cesar Chavez<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Albert Einstein<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Who was it that said he needed a fulcrum?  Give me an<br \/>\nunobstructed right-of-way and I&#8217;ll show them how to move the<br \/>\nearth!&#8221;  (Atlas 234)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The men of the press, who despised their own profession, did not<br \/>\nknow why they were enjoying it today.  One of them, a young man<br \/>\nwith years of notorious success behind him and a cynical look of<br \/>\ntwice his age, said suddenly, &#8216;I know what I&#8217;d like to be:  I<br \/>\nwish I could be a man who covers news!'&#8221;  (Atlas 223)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;She looked at the crowd and she felt, simultaneously,<br \/>\nastonishment that they should stare at her, when this event was<br \/>\nso personally her own that no communication about it was<br \/>\npossible, and a sense of fitness that they should be here, that<br \/>\nthey should want to see it, because the sight of an achievement<br \/>\nwas the greatest gift a human being could offer to others.&#8221;<br \/>\n(Atlas 222)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8230; there&#8217;s nothing of any importance in life &#8212; except how well<br \/>\nyou do your work.  Nothing.  Only that.  Whatever else you are,<br \/>\nwill come from that.  It&#8217;s the only measure of human value.  All<br \/>\nthe codes of ethics they&#8217;ll try to ram down your throat are just<br \/>\nso much paper money put out by swindlers to fleece people of<br \/>\ntheir virtues.  The code of competence is the only system of<br \/>\nmorality that&#8217;s on a gold standard.&#8221;  (Atlas 98)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[What for] was the first question he asked about any activity<br \/>\nproposed to him &#8212; and nothing would make him act, if he found no<br \/>\nvalid answer.  He flew through the days of his summer month like<br \/>\na rocket, but if one stopped him in midflight, he could always<br \/>\nname the purpose of his every random moment.  Two things were<br \/>\nimpossible to him:  to stand still or to move aimlessly.&#8221;  (Atlas<br \/>\n92-3)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Francisco could do anything he undertook, he could do it better<br \/>\nthan anyone else, and he did it without effort.  There was no<br \/>\nboasting in his manner and consciousness, no thought of<br \/>\ncomparison.  His attitude was not:  &#8216;I can do it better than<br \/>\nyou,&#8217; but simply:  &#8216;I can do it.&#8217;  What he meant by doing was<br \/>\ndoing superlatively.&#8221;  (Atlas 92)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;If that&#8217;s the price of getting together, then I&#8217;ll be damned if<br \/>\nI want to live on the same earth with any human beings!  If the<br \/>\nrest of them can survive only be destroying us, then why should<br \/>\nwe wish them to survive?  Nothing can make self-immolation<br \/>\nproper.  Nothing can give them the right to turn men into<br \/>\nsacrificial animals.  Nothing can make it moral to destroy the<br \/>\nbest.  One can&#8217;t be punished for being good.  One can&#8217;t be<br \/>\npenalized for ability.  If that is right, then we&#8217;d better start<br \/>\nslaughtering one another, because there isn&#8217;t any right at all in<br \/>\nthe world!&#8221;  (Atlas 79)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It was his Fourth Concerto, the last work he had written.  The<br \/>\ncrash of its opening chords swept the sights of the streets away<br \/>\nfrom her mind.  The Concerto was a great cry of rebellion.  It<br \/>\nwas a &#8216;NO&#8217; flung at some vast process of torture, a denial of<br \/>\nsuffering, a denial that held the agony of the struggle to break<br \/>\nfree.  The sounds were like a voice saying:  There is no<br \/>\nnecessity for pain &#8212; why, then, is the worst pain reserved for<br \/>\nthose who will not accept its necessity?  &#8212; we who hold the love<br \/>\nand the secret of joy, to what punishment have we been sentenced<br \/>\nfor it, and by whom? &#8230; The sounds of torture became defiance,<br \/>\nthe statement of agony became a hymn to a distant vision for<br \/>\nwhose sake anything was worth enduring, even this.  It was the<br \/>\nsong of rebellion &#8212; and of a desperate quest.&#8221;  (Atlas 69)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t know.  But I&#8217;ve watched them here for twenty years and<br \/>\nI&#8217;ve seen the change.  They used to rush through here, and it was<br \/>\nwonderful to watch, it was the hurry of men who knew where they<br \/>\nwere going and were eager to get there.  Now they&#8217;re hurrying<br \/>\nbecause they are afraid.  It&#8217;s not a purpose that drives them,<br \/>\nit&#8217;s fear.  They&#8217;re not going anywhere, they&#8217;re escaping.  And I<br \/>\ndon&#8217;t think they know what it is that they want to escape.  They<br \/>\ndon&#8217;t look at one another.  They jerk when brushed against.  They<br \/>\nsmile too much, but it&#8217;s an ugly kind of smiling:  it&#8217;s not joy,<br \/>\nit&#8217;s pleading.  I don&#8217;t know what it is that&#8217;s happening to the<br \/>\nworld.&#8221;  (Atlas 64)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The adversary she found herself forced to fight was not worth<br \/>\nmatching or beating; it was not a superior ability which she<br \/>\nwould have found honour in challenging; it was ineptitude &#8212; a<br \/>\ngrey spread of cotton that seemed soft and shapeless, that could<br \/>\noffer no resistance to anything or anybody, yet managed to be a<br \/>\nbarrier in her way.  She stood, disarmed, before the riddle of<br \/>\nwhat made this possible, she could find no answer.&#8221;  (Atlas 55-6)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What did they seek from him?  What were they after?  He had<br \/>\nnever asked anything of them; it was they who wished to hold him,<br \/>\nthey who pressed a claim on him &#8212; and the seemed to have the<br \/>\nform of affection, but it was a form which he found harder to<br \/>\nendure than any sort of hatred.  He despised causeless affection,<br \/>\njust as he despised unearned wealth.  They professed to love him<br \/>\nfor some unknown reason and they ignored all the things for which<br \/>\nhe could wish to be loved.  He wondered what response they could<br \/>\nhope to obtain from him in such manner &#8212; if his response was<br \/>\nwhat they wanted.  And it was, he though; else why those constant<br \/>\ncomplaints, those unceasing accusations about his indifference?<br \/>\nWhy that chronic air of suspicion, as if they were waiting to be<br \/>\nhurt?  He had never had a desire to hurt them, but he had always<br \/>\nfelt their defensive, reproachful expectation; they seemed<br \/>\nwounded by anything he said, it was not a matter of his words or<br \/>\nactions, it was almost&#8230; almost as if they were wounded by the<br \/>\nmere fact of his being.  Don&#8217;t start imagining the insane &#8212; he<br \/>\ntold himself severely, struggling to face the riddle with the<br \/>\nstrictest of his ruthless sense of justice.  He could not condemn<br \/>\nthem without understanding; and he could not understand.&#8221;  (Atlas<br \/>\n42-3)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;re not sorry.  You could&#8217;ve been here if you made the<br \/>\neffort.  But when did you ever make an effort for anybody but<br \/>\nyourself?  You&#8217;re not interested in any of us or in anything we<br \/>\ndo.  You think if you pay the bills, that&#8217;s enough, don&#8217;t you?<br \/>\nMoney!  That&#8217;s all you know.  And all you give us is money.  Have<br \/>\nyou even given us any time?&#8221;  (Atlas Shrugged 40)<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Ayn Rand<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are<br \/>\nmade.  Destiny is made known silently.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Agnes de Mille<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is<br \/>\nboundless.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Jean-Jacques Rousseau<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To the rationally minded the mental processes of the intuitive<br \/>\nappear to work backwards.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Frances Wickes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what people fear<br \/>\nmost.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Fyodor Dostoyevski<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;ve noticed that a lot of people consider &#8216;finding yourself&#8217; to<br \/>\nbe a really frivolous and unproductive study.  I&#8217;m not sure why.<br \/>\nEverything important in life really seems to get down-played so<br \/>\nchildren can be encouraged to join the rat race and make as much<br \/>\nmoney as possible, instead of being told that they should be<br \/>\nhappy first.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Sanjay Singh<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The problem with keeping up with the Jones&#8217; is that it creates a<br \/>\nworld full of Jones&#8217;.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julian Barton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8230; whether your name is Gehrig, or Ripken, DiMaggio, or<br \/>\nRobinson, or that of some youngster who picks up his bat or puts<br \/>\non his glove, you are challenged by the game of baseball to do<br \/>\nyour very best, day in and day out, and that&#8217;s all I&#8217;ve ever<br \/>\ntried to do.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Cal Ripken Jr.<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Trust in yourself.  Your perceptions are often far more accurate<br \/>\nthan you are willing to believe.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Claudia Black<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Shoot for the moon.  Even if you miss it you will land among the<br \/>\nstars.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Les Brown<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or<br \/>\nhow.  The moment you know how, you begin to die a little.  The<br \/>\nartist never entirely knows.  We guess.  We may be wrong, but we<br \/>\ntake leap after leap in the dark.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Agnes de Mille<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I feel drunk but I&#8217;m sober<br \/>\n I&#8217;m young and I&#8217;m underpaid<br \/>\n I&#8217;m tired but I&#8217;m working, yeah.<br \/>\n I care but I&#8217;m restless<br \/>\n I&#8217;m here but I&#8217;m really gone<br \/>\n I&#8217;m wrong and I&#8217;m sorry, baby.<br \/>\n What it all comes down to<br \/>\n Is that everything&#8217;s gonna be quite alright.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Alanis Morissette<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;So let me get this straight.  You want to fly on a magic carpet<br \/>\nto see the King of the Potato People and plead with him for your<br \/>\nfreedom, and you&#8217;re telling me you&#8217;re completely sane?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;from Red Dwarf<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Perfectionism is not a quest for the best.  It is a pursuit of<br \/>\nthe worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do<br \/>\nwill ever be good enough &#8212; that we should try harder.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julia Cameron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When an actor is in the moment, he or she is engaged in<br \/>\nlistening for the next right thing creatively.  When a painter is<br \/>\npainting, he or she may begin with a plan, but that plan is soon<br \/>\nsurrendered to the painting&#8217;s own plan.  This is often expressed<br \/>\nas &#8216;The brush takes the next stroke.&#8217;  In dance, in composition,<br \/>\nin sculpture, the experience is the same:  we are more the<br \/>\nconduit than the creator of what we express.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julia Cameron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Happiness is based on a just discrimination of what is<br \/>\nnecessary, what is neither necessary nor destructive, and what is<br \/>\ndestructive.  In the middle category, however &#8212; that of the<br \/>\nunnecessary but undestructive, that of comfort, luxury,<br \/>\nexuberance, etc.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Ursula K. LeGuin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;They did not use swords, or keep slaves.  They were not<br \/>\nbarbarians.  I do not know the rules and laws of their society,<br \/>\nbut I suspect that they were singularly few.  As they did without<br \/>\nmonarchy and slavery, so they also got on without the stock<br \/>\nexchange, the advertisement, the secret police, and the bomb.<br \/>\nYet I repeat that these were not simple folk, not dulcet<br \/>\nshepherds, noble savages, bland utopians.  They were not less<br \/>\ncomplex than us.  The trouble is that we have a bad habit,<br \/>\nencouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness<br \/>\nas something rather stupid.  Only pain is intellectual, only evil<br \/>\ninteresting.  This is the treason of the artist:  a refusal to<br \/>\nadmit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain.  If<br \/>\nyou can&#8217;t lick &#8217;em, join &#8217;em.  If it hurts, repeat it.  But to<br \/>\npraise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to<br \/>\nlose hold of everything else.  We have almost lost hold, we can<br \/>\nno longer describe a happy man, nor make any celebration of joy.<br \/>\nHow can I tell you about the people of Omelas?  They were not<br \/>\nnaive and happy children &#8212; though their children were, in fact<br \/>\nhappy.  They were mature, intelligent, passionate adults whose<br \/>\nlives were not wretched.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Ursula K. LeGuin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Il a mis le caf\ufffd<br \/>\n Dans la tasse<br \/>\n Il a mis le lait<br \/>\n Dans la tasse de caf\ufffd<br \/>\n Il a mis le sucre<br \/>\n Dans le caf\ufffd au lait<br \/>\n Avec la petite cuiller<br \/>\n Il a tourn\ufffd<br \/>\n Il a bu le caf\ufffd au lait<br \/>\n Et il a repos\ufffd la tasse<br \/>\n Sans me parler.&#8221;<br \/>\n[He put the coffee in the cup.  He put the milk in the cup of<br \/>\ncoffee.  He put the sugar in the white coffee, with the tea-<br \/>\nspoon, he stirred.  He drank the white coffee and he put the cup<br \/>\ndown.  Without speaking to me.]<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Jacques Pr\uff37ert<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Leap, and the net will appear.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Julia Cameron<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Always leave enough time in your life to do something that makes<br \/>\nyou happy, satisfied, even joyous.  That has more of an effect on<br \/>\neconomic well-being than any other single factor.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Paul Hawken<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Often people attempt to live their lives backwards:  they try to<br \/>\nhave more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they<br \/>\nwant so that they will be happier.  The way it actually works is<br \/>\nthe reverse.  You must first be who you really are, then, do what<br \/>\nyou need to do, in order to have what you want.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Margaret Young<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it<br \/>\nis because we do not dare that they are difficult.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                         &#8211;Seneca<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Eliminate something superfluous from your life.  Break a habit.<br \/>\nDo something that makes you feel insecure.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Piero Ferrucci<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Each painting has its own way of evolving&#8230; When the painting<br \/>\nis finished, the subject reveals itself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;William Baziotes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Take your life in your own hands and what happens?  A terrible<br \/>\nthing:  no one to blame.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Erica Jong<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I have made my world and it is a much better world than I ever<br \/>\nsaw outside.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Louise Nevelson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We will discover the nature of our particular genius when we<br \/>\nstop trying to conform to our own or to other people&#8217;s models,<br \/>\nlearn to be ourselves, and allow our natural channel to open.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Shakti Gawain<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A discovery is said to be an accident meeting a prepared mind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Albert Szent-Gyorgyi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The universe will reward you for taking risks on its behalf.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Shakti Gawain<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know<br \/>\nthat everything in this life has a purpose.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Elisabeth K\uff5cler-Ross<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All sanity depends on this:  that it should be a delight to feel<br \/>\nheat strike the skin, a delight to stand upright, knowing the<br \/>\nbones are moving easily under the flesh.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Doris Lessing<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and<br \/>\nwhispers, &#8216;grow, grow.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;The Talmud<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I am often mad, but I would hate to be nothing but mad: and I<br \/>\nthink I would lose what little value I may have as a writer if I<br \/>\nwere to refuse, as a matter of principle, to accept the warming<br \/>\nrays of the sun, and to report them, whenever, and if ever, they<br \/>\nhappen to strike me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;E. B. White<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I was always matching wits with authority.  Pondering over my<br \/>\npast and present hassles, I began to wonder why my life had taken<br \/>\nthe direction it had.  What cosmic forces had led me to this<br \/>\nprecise moment that saw me, once again, dancing on the rim of the<br \/>\nvolcano?  The answers started to come to me as my life flashed<br \/>\nbefore my eyes.  I think it all started when I was arrested as a<br \/>\npyromaniac.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Bill Lee<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s no wonder that our priorities got screwed up.  Just because<br \/>\na person can throw a ball harder or hit it further than most<br \/>\nordinary human beings, he is placed on a pedestal at an early<br \/>\nage.  I don&#8217;t think there is anything wrong with admiring an<br \/>\nexceptionally skilled person, but the hero-worship we shower on<br \/>\nathletes goes beyond that.  This is a part of the tribal<br \/>\ninfluence handed down by our ancestors.  Man has always been<br \/>\nlionized for his physical prowess.  An Indian brave did not have<br \/>\nto pass a math quiz in order to become a chief, he just had to<br \/>\ntear the ass of some bear.  And the twelve labours of Hercules<br \/>\ndid not include a Regents&#8217; exam.  Society has tended to find its<br \/>\nheroes in the most obvious arenas, and I don&#8217;t regard that as a<br \/>\nhealthy thing.  We should find our heroes in the bathroom mirror<br \/>\neach and every morning.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Bill Lee<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Alcohol is like anything else.  It&#8217;s only as bad as the person<br \/>\nit&#8217;s being poured into.  If it&#8217;s used to heighten an occasion, or<br \/>\nto take an edge off stress, I don&#8217;t see a problem.  Trouble<br \/>\nstarts when you either lose control and let the bottle run you,<br \/>\nor when you believe its promises of immortality.  You realize<br \/>\nthat no matter how much you punish yourself, you always seem to<br \/>\nwake up the next day.  Pretty soon you&#8217;re convinced that you will<br \/>\nnever die.  What that happens I guess it is time to look for help<br \/>\nbefore you life becomes one long, lost weekend.<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Bill Lee<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;During those moments on the pitching rubber, when you have every<br \/>\npitch at your command working to its highest potential, you are<br \/>\nyour own universe.  For hours after the game, this sense of<br \/>\ncompleteness lingers.  Then you sink back to what we humorously<br \/>\nrefer to as reality.  Your body aches and your muscles cry out.<br \/>\nYou feel your mortality.  That can be a difficult thing to<br \/>\nhandle.  I believe pitchers come in touch with death a lot sooner<br \/>\nthan other players.  We are more aware of the subtle changes<br \/>\ntaking place in our body and are unable to overlook the tell-tale<br \/>\nhints that we are not going to last on this planet forever.<br \/>\nEvery pitcher has to be a little bit in love with death.  There&#8217;s<br \/>\na subconscious fatalism there.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Bill Lee<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I stopped watching the game and sat back to watch the fans.  It<br \/>\nwas like watching a Fassbinder film, depicting mankind at its<br \/>\nmost berserk.  The experience made me wonder if we&#8217;re not<br \/>\nbreeding a society that lacks self-esteem.  I don&#8217;t think we pat<br \/>\npeople on the back enough, letting them know that being able to<br \/>\nfix a sink is just as much skill as being able to get Rod Carew<br \/>\nout with the bases loaded.  And more worthwhile, if you were to<br \/>\nask me.  People must be made to feel their value.  Otherwise,<br \/>\nwhen they discover they can&#8217;t find  any thrills in religion or in<br \/>\ncults, they head out to the ballpark, seeking a vicarious sense<br \/>\nof fulfilment.  They&#8217;re tired of long-term reality; they don&#8217;t<br \/>\nrecognize what it has to offer them.  All they want is one good<br \/>\nfantasy.  Realizing that really shook me up.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Bill Lee<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t get upset over things I can control, because if I can<br \/>\ncontrol them there&#8217;s no sense in getting upset.  And I don&#8217;t get<br \/>\nupset over things I can&#8217;t control, because if I can&#8217;t control<br \/>\nthem there&#8217;s no sense in getting upset.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Mickey Rivers<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There&#8217;s a saying that no man is an island, which I completely<br \/>\ndisagree with.  I believe that a man should be self-sufficient.<br \/>\nWhat I propose is almost socialistic, almost communistic:  Each<br \/>\nperson should have his own plot of land and grow their food.<br \/>\nThey should each have a civil service job and contribute equally.<br \/>\nIf you don&#8217;t contribute then you don&#8217;t eat and you die.  Don&#8217;t be<br \/>\na burden on those people that are breaking their backs to work.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Peter Steele<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Whether left or right, when views get that extreme then they<br \/>\nbecome warped and open to the sickness of the person holding<br \/>\nthem.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Peter Steele<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I know what you&#8217;re going to say!  &#8216;They are men, and men should<br \/>\nbe free.&#8217;  A free man is dangerous to himself and everyone else.<br \/>\nFreedom should be left to those who can put it to good use&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You just gotta keep going on.  Get up, and do your job.  Go to<br \/>\nwork, get through each day, one day at a time, like that.  And<br \/>\nyou hope that one day, you&#8217;ll get up and it&#8217;ll hurt a little<br \/>\nless.  You just gotta just get through it.  You just go on.  It&#8217;s<br \/>\nthat simple.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All I want is to be back where things make sense.  Where I won&#8217;t<br \/>\nhave to be afraid all the time.  Only one thing stops me.  A<br \/>\npromise I made&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                  &#8211;from The Shawshank Redemption<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;What do you really want to know?  Am I sorry for what I did?<br \/>\nThere&#8217;s not a day goes by I don&#8217;t feel regret.  Not because I&#8217;m<br \/>\nin here, but because you think I should be.  I look back on the<br \/>\nway I was.  A young, stupid kid that committed that terrible<br \/>\ncrime.  I want to talk to him.  I want to try to talk some sense<br \/>\nto him.  Tell him the way things are.  But I can&#8217;t.  That kid&#8217;s<br \/>\nlong gone, and this old man is all that&#8217;s left.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                  &#8211;from The Shawshank Redemption<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;ve had some long nights in the stir.  Alone in the dark, with<br \/>\nnothing but your thoughts, time can draw out like a blade.  That<br \/>\nwas the longest night of my life.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                  &#8211;from The Shawshank Redemption<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It floats around, it&#8217;s got to land on somebody.  It was my turn,<br \/>\nthat&#8217;s all.  I was in the path of the tornado.  I didn&#8217;t expect<br \/>\nthe storm would last as long as it has.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                  &#8211;from The Shawshank Redemption<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Gone is the blinding glow in his hands &#8212; gone, too, is the<br \/>\nillusion of purity and beauty!  In it&#8217;s place all that remains is<br \/>\nmind-numbing, spine-chilling reality!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When I start the book, I&#8217;m The Writer.  The writer bitches for a<br \/>\nweek about how he never has any fun, he&#8217;s tired of being funny<br \/>\nall the time, and nobody cares about him anyhow.  This is<br \/>\nfollowed by a period of deep intense silence, much staring at<br \/>\nwalls, punctuated by cheery optimism on the order of:  &#8216;That&#8217;s<br \/>\nit!  I&#8217;m Dead!  I can&#8217;t think of an ending!&#8217; or &#8216;I&#8217;m just going<br \/>\nto have to scrap the first ten pages &#8212; they&#8217;re lousy.&#8217;  Often it<br \/>\nis less coherent than that &#8212; reduced to the more succinct,<br \/>\n&#8216;Garbage!  It&#8217;s all GARBAGE!'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Dave Sim<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Life moves pretty fast, if you don&#8217;t stop and look around once<br \/>\nin a while, you could miss it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                  &#8211;from Ferris Bueller&#8217;s Day Off<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the<br \/>\ndeath, your right to say it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Voltaire<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All the world&#8217;s a stage, and the men and women merely players.<br \/>\nThey have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his<br \/>\ntime plays many parts.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;William Shakespeare<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Forgive you enemies, but never forget their names.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;John F. Kennedy<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Only those who attempt the absurd can achieve the impossible.&#8221;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The truth is an anagram of an anagram.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Umberto Eco<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Floating, falling, sweet intoxication<br \/>\n Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation.<br \/>\n Let the dream begin, let you darker side give in.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                  &#8211;from The Phantom of the Opera<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a<br \/>\nwarning to others.&#8221;<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You know, I got a daughter, she lives in Michigan.  When she was<br \/>\nsix years old we took her to the circus, one minute she&#8217;s<br \/>\nlaughing at the clowns, you know, getting out of the Volkswagon.<br \/>\nThe next minute she&#8217;s telling me that her stomach hurts.  Soon<br \/>\nshe&#8217;s crying, then she&#8217;s screaming.  We drove her right to the<br \/>\nemergency room, and she&#8217;s got a fever, it&#8217;s too high.  The<br \/>\ndoctors poke and prod, and still they can&#8217;t find anything wrong.<br \/>\nNow her vital signs weaken, and they put her on an IV and they<br \/>\nstill can&#8217;t find anything wrong.  Not anything.  One day I walked<br \/>\ninto her room, and the nurse was trying to put in a new IV and<br \/>\nshe couldn&#8217;t find the spot.  Her little veins were weak, and<br \/>\n[she] starts getting afraid of the needle, and she looked up at<br \/>\nme and said &#8216;Daddy, make it better.&#8217;  I can&#8217;t you how I felt,<br \/>\nwhen she looked up at me and said that, I couldn&#8217;t make it<br \/>\nbetter.  There was nothing I could do.  She was my daughter and I<br \/>\nwas so powerless.  I felt so powerless.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Have you ever noticed, detective, that there are people in this<br \/>\nworld who can tell stories, but they&#8217;re not the ones that write<br \/>\nthem?  People don&#8217;t grow wealthy or powerful through virtue or<br \/>\nintelligence or hard work, though those things do figure in.<br \/>\nThey grow wealthy and powerful because they know how to take<br \/>\nwhat&#8217;s in front of them and shape it, and use it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;from Under Suspicion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Writing will be your companion through the darkest and brightest<br \/>\ndays of your life &#8212; if that is what you want.  It exposes pain<br \/>\nand guilt and the greatest joy.  It is your own assessment of who<br \/>\nyou are.  You should write as much as you can and as much as you<br \/>\nwant to.  It will be something to turn to.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Sharda Tarachandra<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You can never run away from a weakness.  You must sometime fight<br \/>\nit or perish, and if that be so, why not now, and where you<br \/>\nstand?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;Robert Louis Stevenson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;At first he thought he felt bad because he was afraid of leading<br \/>\nan army, but it wasn&#8217;t true.  He knew he&#8217;d make a good commander.<br \/>\nHe felt himself wanting to cry.  He hadn&#8217;t cried since the first<br \/>\nfew days of homesickness after he got here.  He tried to put a<br \/>\nname on the feeling that put a lump in his throat and made him<br \/>\nsob silently, however much he tried to hold it down.  He bit down<br \/>\non his hand to stop the feeling, to replace it with pain.  It<br \/>\ndidn&#8217;t help.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Ender stepped under the water and rinsed himself, took the sweat<br \/>\nof combat and let it run down the drain.  All gone, except they<br \/>\nrecycled it and we&#8217;ll be drinking Bonzo&#8217;s blood water in the<br \/>\nmorning.  All the life gone out of it, but his blood just the<br \/>\nsame, his blood and my sweat, washed down in their stupidity or<br \/>\ncruelty or whatever it was that made them let it happen.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There was no doubt now in Ender&#8217;s mind.  There was no help for<br \/>\nhim.  Whatever he faced, now and forever, no one would save him<br \/>\nfrom it.  Peter might be scum, but he had been right, always<br \/>\nright; the power to cause pain is the only power that matters,<br \/>\nthe power to kill and destroy, because if you can&#8217;t kill then you<br \/>\nare always subject to those who can, and nothing and no one will<br \/>\never save you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Whether he likes it or not, [he] cannot remain incognito<br \/>\nforever.  He has outraged too many wise men and pleased too many<br \/>\nfools to hide behind his too-appropriate order to assume<br \/>\nleadership of the forces of stupidity he has marshalled, or his<br \/>\nenemies will unmask him in order to better understand the disease<br \/>\nthat has produced such a warped and twisted mind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m your man.  I&#8217;m the bloody bastard you wanted when you<br \/>\nhad me spawned.  I&#8217;m your tool, and what difference does it make<br \/>\nif I hate the part of me that you most need?  What difference<br \/>\ndoes it make that when the little serpents killed me in the game,<br \/>\nI agreed with them, and was glad.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;ll put it bluntly.  Human beings are free except when humanity<br \/>\nneeds them.  Maybe humanity needs you.  To do something.  Maybe<br \/>\nhumanity needs me &#8212; to find out what you&#8217;re good for.  We might<br \/>\nboth do despicable things, but if humankind survives, then we<br \/>\nwere good tools.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;This is the essence of the transaction between storyteller and<br \/>\naudience.  The &#8216;true&#8217; story is not the one that exists in my<br \/>\nmind; it is certainly not the written words on the bound paper<br \/>\nthat you hold in your hands.  The story in my mind is nothing but<br \/>\na hope; the text of the story is the tool I created in order to<br \/>\ntry to make that hope a reality.  The story itself, the true<br \/>\nstory, is the one that the audience members create in their<br \/>\nminds, guided and shaped by my text, but then transformed,<br \/>\nelucidated, expanded, edited, and clarified by their own<br \/>\nexperience, their own desires, their own hopes and fears.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8230; All these readers have placed themselves inside this story,<br \/>\nnot as spectators, but as participants, and so have looked at the<br \/>\nworld, not with my eyes only, but also with their own.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[It] was written and sold.  I knew it was a strong story because<br \/>\nI cared about it and believed in it.  I had no idea that it would<br \/>\nhave the effect it had on the audience.  While most people<br \/>\nignored it, of course, and continue to live full and happy lives<br \/>\nwithout reading it or anything else by me, there was still a<br \/>\nsurprisingly large group who responded to the story with some<br \/>\nfervency.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Orson Scott Card<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t pray anymore.  I used to, I used to pray for answers.  A<br \/>\nclue, a sign of what I should do.  How to find something precious<br \/>\nin this life.  There was a time when I thought it was my work, my<br \/>\njob, but is it?  Nothing in this world changes because of what I<br \/>\ndo.  The hurt goes on and on.  God has given up on us.  He<br \/>\ndoesn&#8217;t hear us anymore&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Singers attract fans with aspects to their own personality.<br \/>\nPeople feel I&#8217;m passionate and obsessive.  They know this isn&#8217;t a<br \/>\nprofession for me, it&#8217;s a vocation.  It&#8217;s not an egotistical<br \/>\nthing, but something else.  I&#8217;m in a dialogue with my audience,<br \/>\nand that&#8217;s something I need.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Morrissey<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Passivity is the culprit.  Think of yourself as the victim, you<br \/>\nbecome the victim.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;from Law &amp; Order<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When I was very young, I went to a grade school in New York City<br \/>\ncalled Saint Bart&#8217;s for Boys.  We used to call it the fortress,<br \/>\nthat&#8217;s because the outside of the building looked like a medieval<br \/>\nfort.  But in fact, it was an oasis, right in the middle of my<br \/>\nneighbourhood.  The brothers and sisters were very strict, you<br \/>\nknow, my butt caught the bamboo more than a few times.  But I<br \/>\ndidn&#8217;t hate it.  I didn&#8217;t hate it.  Those rules made me feel<br \/>\nimportant, they made me feel worth protecting.  I felt safe.  And<br \/>\nthen I went to a Jesuit high school, Saint Ignatius.  The Jesuits<br \/>\ntaught me how to think, I haven&#8217;t felt safe since.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I don&#8217;t want to hope anymore, I almost died from this in the<br \/>\nfirst place, and I don&#8217;t want to get that down again.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Lisa Neve<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;And we laughed, at the world.<br \/>\n They can have their diamonds,<br \/>\n And we&#8217;ll have our pearls.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Jill Sobule<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;In an insane world, it was the sanest choice.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;from Terminator 2<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It was a truly discomforting state.  The world seemed distant,<br \/>\nas though he were looking at it through smoky glass.  Sounds were<br \/>\neerily muted, even those of the traffic outside and a cat in the<br \/>\nalley under his window.  His sense of touch was obscured as well,<br \/>\nas if he were wearing oven mitts.  He had difficulty remembering<br \/>\nanything clearly.  It was a little bit like being really, really<br \/>\ndrunk, with the room spinning around and a feeling like had<br \/>\nstepped away from the world.  Except that the dimness made it<br \/>\nfeel as if the world were trying to pull away from him.<br \/>\nEverything but death and loss seemed uncertain.  Death and loss<br \/>\nwere the only constants in his life.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Don Bassingthwaite<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There was too much noise.  Sirens from police cars and<br \/>\nambulances.  Shouts from the crowd on the street eighteen floors<br \/>\nbelow.  Traffic from other streets and all of the noises of San<br \/>\nFrancisco.  Mostly, though, there were the voices.  Whispering to<br \/>\nhim.  Reminding him of the dark things he had done &#8212; all of the<br \/>\nlittle things he had forgotten, all of the big things he had<br \/>\ntried to forget.  Mostly they reminded him of his biggest secret,<br \/>\na betrayal of trust and friendship long ago.  He squeezed his<br \/>\neyes shut as if that could somehow keep the voices away.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Don Bassingthwaite<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For the past weeks I&#8217;d been reacting.  That was no way to win.<br \/>\nTo win, you take the initiative.  You instigate the action.  You<br \/>\nmake the opponent react to you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Richard Marcinko<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;When you fight, you don&#8217;t fight for abstract values like the<br \/>\nflag, or the nation, or democracy.  You fight for your buddy.<br \/>\nYou fight to keep him alive, and he fights to keep you alive, and<br \/>\nyou go on that way, day after day, battle after battle.  And when<br \/>\none of your buddies dies, something inside you dies as well.  But<br \/>\nyou go on.  You fight, so that his death isn&#8217;t meaningless, his<br \/>\nsacrifice isn&#8217;t for nothing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Richard Marcinko<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Your politics are your&#8217;s.  You&#8217;ve never thrown in.  The minute<br \/>\nyou do that, their doctrines become your&#8217;s.  You can be held<br \/>\nresponsible.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;from The X-Files<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I just want to be happy, and I&#8217;m so afraid that I never will<br \/>\nbe.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;from E.R.<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be<br \/>\nchanged until it is faced.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;James Baldwin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful citizens can change<br \/>\nthe world.  Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Margaret Mead<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You must be the change you wish to see in the world.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Mohandas Gandhi<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Science is a body of truths which offers clear and certain<br \/>\nknowledge about the real world and is therefore superior to<br \/>\ntradition, philosophy, religion, dogma, and superstition which<br \/>\noffer shadowy knowledge about an ideal world.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Donald DeMarco<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You ruined my life.  I lost my wife, my kid, my work.  I lost<br \/>\neverything all because of a little bad luck.  You gotta pay for<br \/>\nthat man, you gotta pay.  Otherwise there&#8217;s no justice in this<br \/>\nworld, otherwise it&#8217;s all meaningless.  You can&#8217;t just do<br \/>\nsomething, and then pretend you didn&#8217;t, that it didn&#8217;t happen,<br \/>\nthat somehow you weren&#8217;t involved.  You were, you did.  It&#8217;s your<br \/>\nfault.  And now you gotta die for it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He had regrets, of course, but not so many that he would lose<br \/>\nany sleep over them.  Life surprised him now and then and he<br \/>\ndidn&#8217;t much care for surprises, unless he was passing them out.<br \/>\nBut &#8212; what was to be done?  You had to deal with the reality, he<br \/>\nhad learned that over the years, no matter how much you didn&#8217;t<br \/>\nlike it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Steve Perry<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Did that myth at the heart of all the fairy tales her mother had<br \/>\ntold her, that part about happily ever after, ever really work<br \/>\nout that way?  How many children around the galaxy had been given<br \/>\nthat pretty picture, had swallowed it entire, only to grow up and<br \/>\nfind that reality was not so simple, not so beautiful, not so<br \/>\neasy?  The story didn&#8217;t end when the brave princess killed the<br \/>\nwicked queen and rescued the prince.  That, she was learning, was<br \/>\nthe easy part.  The hard part came when the guns were cleaned and<br \/>\nreholstered, the bodies of the villains cremated, and the day-to-<br \/>\nday business of life reared its ugly cobra&#8217;s head and grinned<br \/>\ndown at you.  When your prince had doubts you couldn&#8217;t answer for<br \/>\nhim, when you had doubts he could only shrug at, that, that was<br \/>\nthe hard part.  That was the part the stories hadn&#8217;t addressed.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Steve Perry<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You know what it is that makes a leader?  Sacrifice.  Sacrifice<br \/>\nyourself and men will follow you anywhere.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;from Back in Action<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You know, everyday I get out of bed and drag myself to the next<br \/>\ncup of coffee.  I take a sip and the caffeine kicks in.  I can<br \/>\nfocus my eyes again.  My brain starts to order the day.  I&#8217;m up,<br \/>\nI&#8217;m alive.  I&#8217;m ready to rock.  But the time is coming when I<br \/>\nwake up and decide that I&#8217;m not getting out of bed.  Not for<br \/>\ncoffee, or food, or sex.  If it comes to me, fine.  If it won&#8217;t,<br \/>\nfine.  No more expectations.  The longer I live the less I know.<br \/>\nI should know more, I should know the coffee&#8217;s killing me.<br \/>\nYou&#8217;re suspicious of your suspicions?  I&#8217;m jealous.  I&#8217;m so<br \/>\njealous.  You still have the heart to have doubts.  Me?  I&#8217;m<br \/>\ngoing to lock up a 14 year old kid for what could be the rest of<br \/>\nhis natural life.  I got to do this.  This is my job.  This is<br \/>\nthe deal.  This is the law.  This is my day.  I have no doubts or<br \/>\nsuspicions about it.  Heart has nothing to do with it anymore.<br \/>\nIt&#8217;s all in the coffee.&#8221;<br \/>\n                             &#8211;from Homicide:  Life on the Street<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Why did you make it so hard for me?  I&#8217;d rather empty the ocean<br \/>\nwith a sieve.  I do it for you.  Or count the grains of sand on<br \/>\nevery beach.  All for you.  There are so many people, so many<br \/>\ncountries.  But I have time.  All the time in the world.<br \/>\nEternity.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Grant Morrison<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;And when it&#8217;s all done, when there&#8217;s no one left you&#8217;ll come<br \/>\nback for me.  And tell me who I am and why I have to do what I<br \/>\ndo.  And explain &#8216;Eternity.&#8217;  You&#8217;ll come back.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Grant Morrison<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Why am I in Hell?  It hurts.  It hurts all the time.  Why am I<br \/>\nin Hell?  I just want to go home and lie on the bed the way I<br \/>\nused to.  Please take me home.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Grant Morrison<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Paintings may not have nearly the power to convert people that<br \/>\nthe printed or spoken word has, but each man has his part to play<br \/>\nin the human and divine drama &#8212; some persons just a few lines,<br \/>\nothers whole pages.  To refuse to play one&#8217;s role at all is not<br \/>\nthe answer.  It is better to light one candle than to curse the<br \/>\ndarkness.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;William Kurelek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Days of my life I&#8217;d like to forget:  The day the doctors told me<br \/>\nI was sick.  The day I had to tell my friends I was ill.  The day<br \/>\nmy hair fell out.  The first day after my surgery.  They&#8217;re also<br \/>\nthe days I&#8217;ll always remember.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Kate Sawford<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Do not look for rest in any pleasure, because you were not<br \/>\ncreated for pleasure:  you were created for Joy.  And if you do<br \/>\nnot know the difference between pleasure and joy you have not yet<br \/>\nbegun to live.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Thomas Merton<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;More than any other time in history, humanity faces a<br \/>\ncrossroads.  One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness.<br \/>\nThe other, to total extinction.  Let us pray we have the wisdom<br \/>\nto choose correctly.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Woody Allen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Opera once was an important social instrument &#8212; especially in<br \/>\nItaly.  With Rossini and Verdi people were listening to opera<br \/>\ntogether and having the same catharsis with the same story, the<br \/>\nsame moral dilemmas.  They were holding hands in the darkness.<br \/>\nThat has gone.  Now perhaps they are holding hands watching<br \/>\ntelevision.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Luciano Berio<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People are brave enough to spit into an open wound, the problem<br \/>\nis that they&#8217;re so afraid, that they&#8217;ll only do it after the<br \/>\nbeast is dead.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Sanjay Singh<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Keep staring at the stars and someday they will collapse.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;James J. Montgomery<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Soaks my skin &#8212; through to the bone<br \/>\n Pain is nothing that a downpour won&#8217;t erase<br \/>\n Rain &#8212; you can&#8217;t hold on to it<br \/>\n A treasure you cannot frame<br \/>\n Rain &#8212; somehow I&#8217;m drawn to it<br \/>\n I feel engaged, one and the same<br \/>\n When heaven&#8217;s dressing beads off my face<br \/>\n The pain is nothing that a downpour won&#8217;t erase.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;Delerium<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I was born to fight your brand of order!&#8221;<br \/>\n                          &#8211;from The Adventures of Batman &amp; Robin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You actually care about those creatures, you&#8217;re just as crazy as<br \/>\nthey are.&#8221;<br \/>\n                          &#8211;from The Adventures of Batman &amp; Robin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;ve seen how you treat your prisoners.  Forgotten and scared<br \/>\nwithout hope or compassion.&#8221;<br \/>\n                          &#8211;from The Adventures of Batman &amp; Robin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The morning sun rises to greet him, and in its low, warm light<br \/>\nhe stands like some sort of pagan god, or deposed tyrant, staring<br \/>\nout over the city he&#8217;s sworn to&#8230; stare out over.  And it&#8217;s<br \/>\nevident, just by looking at him that he&#8217;s got some pretty heavy<br \/>\nthings on his mind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;from The Tick<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;We cannot go ahead without leaving something behind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is harder to live when those we love are dead.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There is no sadder grief than that which lies at the bottom of a<br \/>\nlife that has been wrecked through deception.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Have a good time, make life cheerful and bright, dance if you<br \/>\nwant to, sing if you can, play as long as you live and leave the<br \/>\nworld with a smile.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To correct in ourselves what we condemn in others would remove<br \/>\nmost of the evils of life.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;History shows that there is nothing so easy to enslave and<br \/>\nnothing so hard to emancipate as ignorance, hence it becomes the<br \/>\ndouble enemy of civilization.  By its servility it is the prey of<br \/>\ntyranny, and by its credulity it is the foe of enlightenment.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The statue of liberty that will endure on this continent is not<br \/>\nthe one made of granite or bronze, but the one made of love of<br \/>\nfreedom.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Lemuel K. Washburn<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I saw you with your envoy<br \/>\n A consenting adult<br \/>\n Technique in moderation<br \/>\n But vogue to the cult<br \/>\n Me I&#8217;ve got my strangers<br \/>\n To exile in the night<br \/>\n I guess I&#8217;m just addicted<br \/>\n To the pain of delight.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Melissa Etheridge<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Go on and close your eyes, go on imagine me there<br \/>\n She&#8217;s got similar features with longer hair<br \/>\n And if that&#8217;s what it takes to get you through<br \/>\n Go on and close your eyes it shouldn&#8217;t bother you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Melissa Etheridge<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I was about to tell him he was wrong to dwell on it, because it<br \/>\nreally didn&#8217;t matter.  But he cut me off and urged me one last<br \/>\ntime, drawing himself up to his full height and asking me if I<br \/>\nbelieved in God.  I said no.  He sat down indignantly.  He said<br \/>\nit was impossible; all men believed in God, even those who turn<br \/>\ntheir backs on him.  That was his belief, and if he were ever to<br \/>\ndoubt it, his life would become meaningless. &#8216;Do you want my life<br \/>\nto be meaningless?&#8217; he shouted.  As far as I could see, it didn&#8217;t<br \/>\nhave anything to do with me, and I told him so.  But from across<br \/>\nthe table he had already thrust the crucifix in my face was<br \/>\nscreaming irrationally, &#8216;I am a Christian.  I ask Him to forgive<br \/>\nyou for sins. How can you not believe that He suffered for you?&#8217;<br \/>\nI was struck by how sincere he seemed, but I had had enough.  It<br \/>\nwas getting hotter and hotter.  As always, whenever I want to get<br \/>\nrid of  someone I&#8217;m not really listening to, I made it appear as<br \/>\nif I agreed.  To my surprise, he acted triumphant.  &#8216;You see, you<br \/>\nsee!&#8217; he said.  &#8216;You do believe, don&#8217;t you, and you&#8217;re going to<br \/>\nplace your trust in Him, aren&#8217;t you?&#8217;   Obviously, I again said<br \/>\nno.  He fell back in his chair&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Albert Camus<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s very hard to let someone in when you&#8217;ve caused so much<br \/>\npain.  To risk the emotion.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;from Forever Knight<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Just one more time to touch you<br \/>\n Just one more time to tell you<br \/>\n You&#8217;re on my mind<br \/>\n Baby, why can&#8217;t I have you<br \/>\n You&#8217;re breaking my heart in two<br \/>\n You know what I&#8217;m going through<br \/>\n Oh baby, why can&#8217;t I have you?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;The Cars<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Who&#8217;s gonna tell you when it&#8217;s too late<br \/>\n Who&#8217;s gonna tell you things aren&#8217;t so great<br \/>\n You can&#8217;t go on, thinking nothing&#8217;s wrong<br \/>\n Who&#8217;s gonna drive you home, tonight?<\/p>\n<p> Who&#8217;s gonna pick you up when you fall<br \/>\n Who&#8217;s gonna hang it up when you call<br \/>\n Who&#8217;s gonna pay attention to your dreams<br \/>\n Who&#8217;s gonna plug their ears, when you scream?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                       &#8211;The Cars<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You see with your eyes.  This means you can be misled by charm,<br \/>\nby outward appearance.  By webs of glamour, by surface pretences.<br \/>\nI do not see with my eyes.  I see good and I see evil.  Nothing<br \/>\nelse.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I do not permit affection, or lack thereof, to influence my<br \/>\nactions.  There is good, and there is evil.  The good must be<br \/>\nprotected; the evil eradicated.  I have shown you the triumph of<br \/>\nevil, as a caution.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You wish to see the distant realms?  Very well.  But know this<br \/>\nfirst, the places you will visit, the places you will see, do not<br \/>\nexist.  For there are only two worlds &#8212; your world, which is the<br \/>\nreal world, and other worlds, the fantasy.  Worlds like this one,<br \/>\nworlds of the human imagination.  Their reality, or lack of<br \/>\nreality is not important.  What is important is that they are<br \/>\nthere.  These worlds provide an alternative.  Provide an escape.<br \/>\nProvide a threat.  Provide a dream, and power, provide refuge and<br \/>\npain.  They give your world meaning.  They do not exist; and thus<br \/>\nthey are all that matters.  Do you understand?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There aren&#8217;t any good guys, and there aren&#8217;t any bad guys.<br \/>\nThere&#8217;s just us.  People.  Doing our best to get by.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;People kill what they fear.  They burned, and drowned, and<br \/>\nhanged those they saw as witches, the devil&#8217;s servants:  the wise<br \/>\nwomen and the cunning men, the unfortunate, the lost and the<br \/>\nstrange.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The red flame flickers on the wall of the cave<br \/>\n (smeared with ochre, berry dye, charcoal)<br \/>\n Making the great elk move,<br \/>\n Making the mastodon breath,<br \/>\n Making the hunters race and kill.<\/p>\n<p> Watch them seeking to placate and understand the world above<br \/>\n This they know.<br \/>\n This they understand.<br \/>\n There is darkness, everywhere, outside.<\/p>\n<p> The dark is everywhere; and though the sun comes up,<br \/>\n And though the fires blossom and are tamed,<br \/>\n The darkness is there,<br \/>\n The darkness is waiting.<\/p>\n<p> As the things in the darkness<br \/>\n That whisper before they feast,<br \/>\n They are to be placated and persuaded,<br \/>\n They are to be loved and sacrificed to,<br \/>\n They are to be prayed to and distrusted.<\/p>\n<p> And so there is magic.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Neil Gaiman<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Living is easy with eyes closed<br \/>\n Misunderstand all you see<br \/>\n It&#8217;s getting hard to be someone but it all works out<br \/>\n It doesn&#8217;t matter much to me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;The Beatles<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Pain.  I started cuttings on myself when I was quite young.  The<br \/>\nbacks of my arms.  I did it with a knife.  I didn&#8217;t learn it from<br \/>\nanyone. It was the way I knew I was alive and human.  At the time<br \/>\nI hadn&#8217;t developed enough to understand why I was doing it.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Greta, body piercer<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There were times in my life when I couldn&#8217;t feel anything any<br \/>\nmore.  Everything became too much.  I felt numb all the time.  I<br \/>\ncouldn&#8217;t feel happy or sad.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                            &#8211;Greta, body piercer<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Girls ask to suck my blood.  They aren&#8217;t too shy about asking<br \/>\nme.  I can easily show you scars all over me where I&#8217;ve taken<br \/>\nrazor blades and opened myself up and let them stick their<br \/>\ntongues into me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Peter Steele<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;For a long time, I did not know who I was, I did not know what I<br \/>\nwanted.  I was crushed by peer pressure, and I listened to a lot<br \/>\nof people because I was told by a lot of people around me that I<br \/>\nwas a moron.  And now I&#8217;ve realized that it&#8217;s not me that&#8217;s<br \/>\nfucked up.  It is the rest of the world.  I&#8217;m certainly not a<br \/>\ngenius but I believe I&#8217;ve found myself.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Peter Steele<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I think I&#8217;m a blue-collar worker from Brooklyn.  This thing just<br \/>\nfell into my lap and it is an opportunity to escape urban blight.<br \/>\nI&#8217;m a social retard, and I have a hard time dealing with people.<br \/>\nI don&#8217;t like crowds, I don&#8217;t like noise, I don&#8217;t like people, I<br \/>\ndon&#8217;t like being questioned.  I just want to be left alone.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Peter Steele<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Censorship is almost systematically the weapon of first resort<br \/>\nfor governments in uncertain political situations.  So not only<br \/>\nare the famous writers and bold journalists in danger; at every<br \/>\nlevel of public and private life, the freedoms to think, read or<br \/>\nwrite are denied.<\/p>\n<p>In the absence of a free press, other human rights abuses<br \/>\nflourish unabated.  Nothing is reported, criticized, questioned.<br \/>\nThe example of imprisonment, torture or execution imposes a<br \/>\nfurther silence.  A blindly obedient mob mentality is encouraged,<br \/>\ndriven by extremist religious or ethnic loyalties.  The citizens<br \/>\ndo not know what is happening.  Fear and ignorance permeate<br \/>\ndiscussion.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;Marian Botsford Fraser<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;To start blindly with a statement is a sign of arrogance and<br \/>\nnarrow-mindedness, and will lead to conflict.  To start blindly<br \/>\nwith a question is a sign of uncertainty and honesty, and will<br \/>\nlead to wisdom.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Scott &#8220;Jesus&#8221; Watson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ve seen [angst] (you know you have) late at night, in a<br \/>\nmirror.  It has deep, hollow eyes &#8212; too exhausted to close &#8212;<br \/>\nand looks like someone you thought you knew.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Dirk John Fischer<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Wake when others wake.  Take what others take.<br \/>\n Feed when others feed.  Need what others need.<br \/>\n Share what others share.  Care when others care.<br \/>\n Feel what others feel.  Is it real?<\/p>\n<p> If you love what others love.  You will never rise above.<br \/>\n You will stay where others stay.  Play games they like to play.<\/p>\n<p> And when they grow tired, you will fall asleep.<br \/>\n Because to follow is the nature of the sheep.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Luke Gasteiger<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from<br \/>\ntime to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Oscar Wilde<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;True education makes for inequality; the inequality of<br \/>\nindividuality, the inequality of success, the glorious inequality<br \/>\nof talent, of genius; for inequality, not mediocrity, individual<br \/>\nsuperiority, not standardization, is the measure of the progress<br \/>\nof the world.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                             &#8211;Felix E. Schelling<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Spoon feeding in the long run teaches us nothing but the shape<br \/>\nof the spoon.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;E. M. Forster<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The paradox of education is precisely this &#8212; that as one begins<br \/>\nto become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he<br \/>\nis being educated.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;James Baldwin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It is very nearly impossible&#8230; to become an educated person in<br \/>\na country so distrustful of the independent mind.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;James Baldwin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The real leader has no need to lead &#8212; he is content to point<br \/>\nthe way.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Henry Miller<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The art of leadership&#8230; consists in consolidating the attention<br \/>\nof the people against a single adversary and taking care that<br \/>\nnothing will split up that attention&#8230; The leader of genius must<br \/>\nhave the ability to make different opponents appear as if they<br \/>\nbelonged to one category.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Adolf Hitler<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I read the news today oh boy<br \/>\n About a lucky man who made the grade<br \/>\n And though the news was rather sad<br \/>\n Well I just had to laugh<br \/>\n I saw the photograph.<br \/>\n He blew his mind out in a car<br \/>\n He didn&#8217;t notice that the lights had changed<br \/>\n A crowd of people stood and stared<br \/>\n They&#8217;d seen his face before<br \/>\n Nobody was really sure<br \/>\n If he was from the House of Lords.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;The Beatles<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Fear, it&#8217;s the oldest tool of power.  If you&#8217;re distracted by<br \/>\nfear of those around you, it keeps you from seeing the actions of<br \/>\nthose above.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;from The X-Files<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Reporters crowd around you house,<br \/>\n Going through you garbage like a pack of hounds<br \/>\n Speculating what they might find out,<br \/>\n It don&#8217;t matter now, you&#8217;re all washed up.<\/p>\n<p> You wake up in the middle of the night<br \/>\n You sheets are wet and your face is white,<br \/>\n You tried to make a good thing last,<br \/>\n How could something so good, go bad, so fast.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                &#8211;Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There was thunder<br \/>\n There was lightning<br \/>\n Then the stars went out<br \/>\n And the moon fell from the sky&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Tom Waits<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I&#8217;m just hoping that one day the sheep will realize that the<br \/>\nshepherd is really a wolf in disguise.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Sanjay Singh<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Fifty or sixty shooters had already arrived and managed to look<br \/>\nstudiously bored.  I knew a few of them and nodded politely.  No<br \/>\none asked me to sit next to them, nor would I have accepted if<br \/>\nthey had.  It&#8217;s better that way, in case you end up on opposite<br \/>\nsides of a fight, and a whole lot safer.  Friends can betray you.<br \/>\nStrangers can&#8217;t.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;William C. Deitz<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You thought you knew what pain was.  You thought that whatever<br \/>\nhappened, you could handle it.  You thought that you were in<br \/>\ncontrol.  You thought wrong.  Now you&#8217;ve lost it all.  She&#8217;s<br \/>\ngone.  All that&#8217;s left is the numbing pain.  You have to let go<br \/>\nto stop the pain, but you can&#8217;t.  It&#8217;s like a drug to you now.<br \/>\nYou don&#8217;t want to need it, but it has become a part of you, and<br \/>\nit won&#8217;t loosen its grip on you.  The control you once fought<br \/>\nfor, is gone.  You have no control.  And you just don&#8217;t care.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Sanjay Singh<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You&#8217;ve bought into the &#8216;system&#8217; your whole life, and it got you<br \/>\nnowhere.  You were at the top of your class in high school, you<br \/>\nwere the darling of your sorority, and people still treated you<br \/>\nlike your success was a way to prove their &#8216;system&#8217; was right.<br \/>\nNo more.  You get by on your own&#8230; with the help of someone who<br \/>\nworks for you now.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The world is his canvas, and he wants to take up sculpting.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You are inspired.  Anything you say is brilliant, especially if<br \/>\nit contradicts what other people normally believe.  Create!<br \/>\nDestroy!  Live!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;[He] does not belong; reality itself does not accept his surreal<br \/>\nvisions.  Why hold back?  Why shouldn&#8217;t he reshape the world into<br \/>\nsomething that will accept him?  He&#8217;s been shut out long enough.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Obviously, [she] should learn a little about reality.  True love<br \/>\ndoes not conquer all.  How foolish she is to believe in &#8216;young<br \/>\nlove.&#8217;  Stories like that always end in tears.  Her romance<br \/>\ncertainly did.  Seeing young lovers most [her], because it<br \/>\nreminds her of her own pain &#8212; the pain her Psyche and her need<br \/>\nfor blissful passion gave her.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The true artist must be open to anything!  Expand your mind,<br \/>\nman; stretch it like a big red balloon!  You think that&#8217;s crazy!<br \/>\nLook at all the unhappy people, look at all the conformity, and<br \/>\nI&#8217;ll tell you what&#8217;s really crazy.  Whee!  Ants!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;One must follow what interests one, yes?  Life is an exploration<br \/>\nof the mind, an exploration of reality.  Care for some brie?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;They found the dog in several pieces in the trash can, occult<br \/>\nsymbols carved into its fur and something horrible in its mouth.<br \/>\nThey found the old man hanging from the ceiling in his study, the<br \/>\nplastic on the floor was arranged so that none of the blood<br \/>\nstained the lily white carpet.  They discovered the child hunched<br \/>\ndown in a closet covered in her own waste, the tears dried away,<br \/>\nthe hollow eyes looking out at nothing.<\/p>\n<p>They say not to go into the Fifth Street alley at night &#8212; it&#8217;s<br \/>\njust not safe.  They say that the library is haunted &#8212; that<br \/>\nsometimes you can feel the crinkle of plastic under your feet.<br \/>\nBut you don&#8217;t care what they say, &#8217;cause you know she&#8217;s in your<br \/>\ncloset &#8212; when you close your eyes to sleep you can still hear<br \/>\nher muffled screams and the little hands beating at the door&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;This thing is a man.  Look at what you are, and what awaits you.<br \/>\nGaze on this image and learn what your own end will be.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                  &#8211;Greek epitaph<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Learn the true topography; the monstrous and wonderful<br \/>\narchetypes are not inside you, not inside your consciousness; you<br \/>\nare inside them, trapped and howling to get out.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;R. A. Lafferty<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I see the witching moon moving in swift arc, yet not driving<br \/>\nwith her full face shining night long like torchlight luring in a<br \/>\ngraveyard.  She glows as when magicians spells torment her reins<br \/>\ntaught.  She holds course, hogging the horizon moon.  Now your<br \/>\nfire has hues of deathly pallor.  Pour waves of grim light on the<br \/>\nwinds to frighten mankind.<\/p>\n<p>On grass red with bloodstains, I offer your beasts ritually<br \/>\nbutchered for you a fire torch snatched from a cremation burns in<br \/>\nthe night; for you I arch and toss back my head.  I sing, I loose<br \/>\nmy hair, then bind it with sacred headband, and they do at<br \/>\nfunerals.  For you I grip this bough shrivelled with deaths dew.<br \/>\nFor you I bare my breast, slice into my arms with holy knife,<br \/>\nshed my sanity and blood forever.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Death is but a stepping over, a passage through the Shroud.  The<br \/>\nmoment of death is a rite of passage marking the end of one<br \/>\njourney and the beginning of another, a path available to us at<br \/>\nany time.<\/p>\n<p>The thousands of things undone, the millions of roads not<br \/>\ntravelled, the longings and regrets; they do not die with the<br \/>\nbody.  Instead they linger on and take a life of their own.  They<br \/>\nbecome ghosts.  They become shadows.<\/p>\n<p>Trapped between this world and the next, wraiths are lost in the<br \/>\nimmortal gloom of damnation.  Held together out of pure misery,<br \/>\nthey are trapped by their past, their longings and their fear.<br \/>\nMany are the products of sudden, violent or cruel deaths.  They<br \/>\nare bound by a sense of crucial deeds undone, of unsaid words<br \/>\nbreaking in their hearts, of a life cut short by Fate.  Others<br \/>\nare consumed by a tragic longing for happiness and fulfilment<br \/>\ndenied them in life.  A few are driven by bitterness, anger or<br \/>\npassionate ideals.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I can&#8217;t feel you anymore<br \/>\n I can&#8217;t even touch the books you&#8217;ve read<br \/>\n I followed you beneath the stars<br \/>\n Hounded by your memory<br \/>\n And all your raging glory<br \/>\n But now I&#8217;m finally free<br \/>\n I kiss good-bye the howling beast<br \/>\n That separated you from me<br \/>\n You&#8217;ll never know the hurt I suffered<br \/>\n Nor the pain I rise above<br \/>\n And I&#8217;ll never know the same about you,<br \/>\n But soon we&#8217;ll be together<br \/>\n In the clasp of oblivion.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The conquest of the fear of death is the recovery of life&#8217;s joy.<br \/>\nOne can experience an unconditional affirmation of life only when<br \/>\none has accepted death, not as contrary to life, but as an aspect<br \/>\nof life.  Life in its becoming is always shedding death, and on<br \/>\nthe point of death.  The conquest of fear yields the courage of<br \/>\nlife.  That is the cardinal initiation of every heroic adventure<br \/>\n&#8212; fearlessness and achievement.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Joseph Campbell<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;With each passing day oblivion encroaches further.  With every<br \/>\nsoul that surrenders to shadow, the end draws nearer.  The world<br \/>\nis not as we knew it, decay&#8217;s sweet stench now clings to all we<br \/>\nonce held dear.  It is called the Shadowlands.  In death there is<br \/>\nnowhere to hide, nowhere to run, from the hate and fear, the pain<br \/>\nand bitterness, the shadow within.  Hope is fragile and few have<br \/>\nthe courage, the passion, to face death, and say, &#8216;I do not go<br \/>\ngentle into that good night.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Like you, I am broken and fragile<br \/>\n Like you, I am tasting my heart for the first time<br \/>\n Like you, I am feeding on slumber<br \/>\n Like you, I&#8217;ve left my eyes far behind me<br \/>\n Down for the count and still drowning&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Christian Death<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;You may never understand<br \/>\n How the stranger is inspired<br \/>\n For he is always evil,<br \/>\n And he is not always wrong&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Billy Joel<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Come with me on wings of dream.  I can take you anywhere you<br \/>\nwant to go &#8212; would you like to have dinner with [her]?  Sip<br \/>\ncappuccino on the canals of Mars?  Walk with me though the<br \/>\nElysian Fields?  I promise to have you back before you wake.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;All around you reverberate the songs of the dead.  You hear them<br \/>\nechoing in high cathedrals, in darkened auditoriums, in your own<br \/>\nsleep.  All around you wail the songs of the dead:  dare you not<br \/>\nlisten?  Listen to what has been sung.  Since their death!&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;&#8216;Do you trust me?&#8217;  I asked her.  I held out my hand.  &#8216;Do you<br \/>\nwant to see beyond the darkness?&#8217;  She nodded slowly, and took my<br \/>\nhand&#8230;&#8221;<br \/>\n                                     &#8211;from Wraith:  The Oblivion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Swift as light and as cheers was the idea that broke in upon me.<br \/>\n&#8216;I have found it!  What terrified me will terrify others; I need<br \/>\nonly describe the spectre which had haunted my midnight pillow.'&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                    &#8211;Mary Shelly<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I act the role in classic style of a martyr<br \/>\n Carved with a twisted smile,<br \/>\n To bleed the lyric for this song<br \/>\n To write the rites to right my wrongs<br \/>\n An epitaph to a broken dream<br \/>\n To exorcise tis silent scream<br \/>\n A scream that&#8217;s borne from sorrow.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                      &#8211;Marillion<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Oh children don&#8217;t you weep and moan<br \/>\n Children save your breath<br \/>\n You&#8217;ll draw a pretty pension<br \/>\n When your daddy meets his death.&#8221;<br \/>\n                              &#8211;&#8220;Hard Times&#8221; (traditional ballad)<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It was the best of times and the worst of times, and it was all<br \/>\nof them at once.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Alan Moore<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Death followed by eternity&#8230; the worst of both worlds.  It is a<br \/>\nterrible thought.&#8221;<br \/>\n                     &#8211;from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;There were the days when you peered into your self, into the<br \/>\nsecret places of your heard, and what you saw there made you fair<br \/>\nwith horror.  And then, next day, you didn&#8217;t know what to make of<br \/>\nit, you couldn&#8217;t interpret the horror you had glimpsed the day<br \/>\nbefore.  Yes, you know what evil costs.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Jean-Paul Sartre<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The darkness always teemed with unexplained sound &#8212; and yet he<br \/>\nsometimes shook with fear lest the noises he heard subside and<br \/>\nallow him to hear certain other fainter noises which he suspected<br \/>\nwere lurking behind them.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;H.P. Lovecraft<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Darkness, darkness<br \/>\n Be my blanket<br \/>\n Cover me with the endless night<br \/>\n Take away the pain of knowing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;The Youngbloods<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The night is my companion, and solitude my guide.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                               &#8211;Sarah McLaughlin<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;He who pretends to look upon death without fear, lies.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                          &#8211;Jean-Jacques Rousseau<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Someone stole my heart.  I haven&#8217;t gotten it back, because I<br \/>\nhaven&#8217;t found anyone to steal it back for me.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                           &#8211;Scott &#8220;Jesus&#8221; Watson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Justice to the left of you<br \/>\n Justice to the right<br \/>\n Speak when you are spoken to<br \/>\n Don&#8217;t pretend you&#8217;re right<br \/>\n This life&#8217;s not for living<br \/>\n It&#8217;s for fighting and for wars<br \/>\n No matter what the truth is<br \/>\n Hold on to what is yours.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                            &#8211;Yes<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Sometimes you want to run away<br \/>\n Sometimes you think you do<br \/>\n But you never had a dream like this before<br \/>\n And you don&#8217;t want to ask for more<br \/>\n Sometimes you leave a mark<br \/>\n Before you know the score.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                     &#8211;Ric Ocasek<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The great challenge of adulthood is holding on to your idealism<br \/>\nafter you lose your innocence.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                              &#8211;Bruce Springsteen<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A life is not important, except in the impact it has on other<br \/>\nlives.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Jackie Robinson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I see your face in every flame<br \/>\n With no answers I have only myself to blame<br \/>\n Of all the women I have known &#8212; they&#8217;re not you<br \/>\n I&#8217;d rather be alone.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Type O Negative<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;I always thought we&#8217;d be together<br \/>\n And that our love could not be better<br \/>\n Well with no warning you were gone<br \/>\n I still don&#8217;t know what went wrong<br \/>\n You don&#8217;t know what I&#8217;ve been through<br \/>\n Just want to put my love in you.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Type O Negative<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;So you&#8217;ve come to say you&#8217;re very sorry<br \/>\n &#8216;It won&#8217;t happen again &#8212; forgive me?&#8217;<br \/>\n Time will not heal these wounds<br \/>\n And I&#8217;m bleeding because of you.<\/p>\n<p> Was everything we had just a joke?<br \/>\n I&#8217;ve run out of patience, tears, and hope<br \/>\n Love does not conquer all<br \/>\n And I&#8217;m screaming because of you.<\/p>\n<p> In the shadow of the light from a black sun<br \/>\n Frigid statue standing icy blue and numb<br \/>\n Where are the frost giants I&#8217;ve begged for protection?<br \/>\n I&#8217;m freezing.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Type O Negative<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;A crimson pool so warm and deep<br \/>\n Lulls me to an endless sleep<br \/>\n You hand in mine &#8212; I will be brave<br \/>\n Take me from this earth<br \/>\n An endless night &#8212; this, the end of life<br \/>\n From the dark I feel your lips<br \/>\n And I taste your bloody kiss.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Type O Negative<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Not long ago but far away<br \/>\n A rainy winter&#8217;s day<br \/>\n All her pain she kept inside<br \/>\n Could no longer hide<br \/>\n No cry for help<br \/>\n She killed herself<br \/>\n Both life and love could not be saved<br \/>\n She took them both to the grave.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Type O Negative<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;See the smile awaitin&#8217; in the kitchen<br \/>\n Food cookin&#8217; and the plates for two<br \/>\n Feel the arms that reach out to hold me<br \/>\n In the evening when the day is through.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Seals &amp; Crofts<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;See the curtains hangin&#8217; in the window<br \/>\n In the evening on a Friday night<br \/>\n A little light-a-shinin&#8217; through the window<br \/>\n Let&#8217;s me know everything&#8217;s all right.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                 &#8211;Seals &amp; Crofts<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;It&#8217;s not that I don&#8217;t have a conscience, it&#8217;s just that why<br \/>\nshould I feel guilty for my present crimes, when my past ones are<br \/>\nso much worse?&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                   &#8211;Sanjay Singh<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;The Humanist lives as if this world were all and enough.  He is<br \/>\nnot otherworldly.  He holds that the time spent on the<br \/>\ncontemplation of a possible afterlife is time wasted.  He fears<br \/>\nno hell and seeks no heaven, save that which he and others<br \/>\ncreated on earth.  He willingly accepts the world that exists on<br \/>\nthis side of the grave as the place for moral struggle and<br \/>\ncreative living.  He seeks the life abundant for his neighbour as<br \/>\nfor himself.  He is content to live one world at a time and let<br \/>\nthe next life &#8212; if such there may be &#8212; take care of itself.  He<br \/>\nneed not deny immortality; he simply is not interested.  His<br \/>\ninterests are here.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                                &#8211;Edwin H. Wilson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Gentleness and cheerfulness, these come before all morality:<br \/>\nthey are the perfect duties.  If your morals make you dreary,<br \/>\ndepend on it they are wrong.  I do not say, &#8216;give them up,&#8217; for<br \/>\nthey may be all you have; but conceal them like a vice, lest they<br \/>\nshould spoil the lives of better men.&#8221;<br \/>\n                                         &#8211;Robert Louis Stevenson<br \/>\n            &#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;<br \/>\n&#8220;Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, does<\/p>\n<div class='watch-action'><div class='watch-position align-right'><div class='action-like'><a class='lbg-style1 like-14044 jlk' href='javascript:void(0)' data-task='like' data-post_id='14044' data-nonce='65e0e39b87' rel='nofollow'><img class='wti-pixel' src='https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-content\/plugins\/wti-like-post\/images\/pixel.gif' title='Like' \/><span class='lc-14044 lc'>0<\/span><\/a><\/div><\/div> <div class='status-14044 status align-right'><\/div><\/div><div class='wti-clear'><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&#8220;I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[27],"class_list":["post-14044","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-othernonsense","tag-english","wpcat-7-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14044","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14044"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14044\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14045,"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14044\/revisions\/14045"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14044"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14044"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.graviton.at\/letterswaplibrary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14044"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}