Bokelskere.no

He found himself weeping. Not for the future or for the emperor. These were the tears of a man who saw before himself a masterpiece. True art was more than beauty; it was more than technique. It was not just imitation. It was boldness, it was contrast, it was subtlety.

No matter how good you were, someone was better. Live by that knowledge, and you would never grow so confident that you became sloppy.

There was rarely an obvious branching point in a person's life. People changed slowly, over time. You didn't take on step, then find yourself in a completely new location. You first took a little step off a path to avoid some rocks. For a while, you walked alongside the path, but then you wandered out a little way to step on softer soil. Then you stopped paying attention as you drifted farther and farther away. Finally, you found yourself in the wrong city, wondering why the signs on the roadway hadn't led you better.

Sometimes we must fall, sometimes we will rise—some must be hurt while others have fortune, for that is the only way we can learn to rely on one another. As one is blessed, it is his privilege to help those whose lives are not as easy. Unity comes from strife, child.

Those who can least afford extravagance seem to be the ones most determined to spend what they have left.

You will find that hate can unify people more quickly and more fervently than devotion ever could.

Definitely not—you optimists just can't understand that a depressed person doesn't want you to try and cheer them up. It makes us sick.

Do not dash if you only have the strength to walk, and do not waste your time pushing on the walls that will not give. More importantly, don't shove where a pat would be sufficient.

Remember, the past need not become our future as well.

We live in an age where there is no room for the impossible.

One man's ways may be as good as another's, but we all like our own best.

I was quiet, but I was not blind.

Let us have the luxury of silence.

The most terrible of all weapons is the word, which can ruin a life without leaving a trace of blood, and whoose wounds never heal.

Friendship is like a river: it flows around rocks, adapts itself to valleys and mountains, occasionally turns into a pool untill the hollow in the ground is full and it can continue on its way.

And time will sease to exist, because in the land of pleasure-born-of-true-love, everything is infinite.

True love, however, is the love that seduces and will never allow itself to be seduced.

Dreaming carries no risks. The dangerous thing is trying to transform your dreams into reality.

If you are never alone, you cannot know yourself. And if you do not know yourself, you will begin to fear the void.