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We must be our own before we can be another's."
"What does love look like? It has the hands to
help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see
misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is
what love looks like. "
- Saint Augustine | | |
| "When you pour out your pockets into the pockets of others, you just wind up
richer in the morning than you were the night before."
-Agnes Lampion, pg.
672
"Not one day in anyone's life, so her father taught, is
an uneventful day, no day without profound meaning, no matter how dull and
boring it might seem, no matter whether you are a seamstress or a queen, a
shoeshine boy or a movie star, a renowned philospher or a Down's-syndrome
child. Because every day of your life, there are opportunities to perform
little kindnesses for others, both by conscious acts of will and unconscious
example. Each smallest act of kindness--even just words of hope when they are
needed, the remembrance of a birthday, a compliment that engenders a
smile--reverberates across great distances and spans of time, affecting lives
unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo,
because kindness is passed on and grows each time it's passed, until a simple
courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and far away.
Likewise, each small meanness, each thoughtless
expression of hatred, each envious and bitter act, regardless of how petty, can
inspire others, and is therefore the seed that ultimately produces evil fruit,
poisoning people whom you have never met and never will. All human lives are so
profoundly and inriticately entwined--those dead, those living, those
generations yet to come--that the fate of all is the fate of each, and the hope
of humanity rests in every heart and in every pair of hands. Therefore, after
every failure, we are obliged to strive again for success, and when faced with
the end of one thing, we must build something new and better in the ashes, just
as from pain and grief, we must weave hope, for each of us is a thread critical
to the strength--to the very survival--of the human tapestry. Every hour in
every life contains such often-unrecognized potential to affect the world that
the great days for which we, in our dissatisfaction, so often yearn are already
with us; all great days and thrilling possibilities are combined always in this
momentous day.
Or as her father often said, happily mocking his own
rhetorical eloquence: "Brighten the corner where you are, and you will light the
world."
-Reverend Harrison White's sermon, pg 561-562
| | |
| "I had strange dreams...Dreams of being on a train. I
held a ticket in my hand, but it was blank, there was no destination set on it.
I saw the Ticket collector start to walk down the train and I panicked. I
thought he would see my ticket and throw me off the train!"
"He asked for my ticket, and I slowly gave it to him. I
braced myself, but nothing happened. He just smiled and gave the ticket right
back to me. I looked at the ticket, then out the window, and smiled. I had an
indescribable feeling inside. It felt as if, with this blank ticket, I could go
anywhere..."
-Rem Saverem | | |
| "I enjoyed it, I really did. I began to
realize how simple life could be if one had a regular routine to follow with
fixed hours and a fixed salary and very little original thinking to do. The life
of a writer is absolute hell compared with the life of a businessman. He has to
make his own hours and if he doesn't go to his desk at all there is nobody to
scold him. If he is a writer of fiction he lives in a world of fear. Each new
day demands new ideas and he can never be sure whether he is going to come up
with them or not. Two hours of writing fiction leaves this particular writer
absolutely drained. For those two hours he's beenmiles away, he has been
somewhere else, in a different place with totally different people, and the
effort of swimming back into normal surroundings is very great. It is almost a
shock. The writer walks out of his workroom in a daze. He wants a drink. He
needs it. It happens to be a fact that nearly every writer of fiction in the
world drinks more whiskey than is good for him. He does it to give himself
faith, hope, and courage. A person is a fool to become a writer. His only
compensation is absolute freedom.
He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am
sure, is why he does it." -Roald Dahl, Boy pg 171 | | |
| "I don't know what that is, but that's ok. Things that we don't understand
surround us constantly. It's true, and not just in the game world. It's the
same in the real world in school or at your part time job. Because of the
unknown, there's the joy of understanding. Because the of the mysterious
there's the excitement of discovering. Even if you don't always know the rules,
just enjoy your role and take things as they come. And everything will fall
into place. There would be nothing left to enjoy if we knew everything."
-Shino, .hack//Roots
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