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La imaginación es el aguijón de los placeres; en los de esta especie, lo regula todo, es el móvil de todo; ahora bien, ¿no se goza por ella? ¿No es de ella de la que proceden las voluptuosidades más excitantes? ↗
From his bedroom window on the Marine Corps Base in Quantico, Nathaniel Dixon watched in awe at the four-ship formation of V-22 Ospreys chewing up the Virginia air with their massive, wingtip-mounted tilt rotors as they made a pass over the flight line. The aircraft grew in his window as they approached the small bungalow he lived in with his mother and father on base. Just before they flew out of sight, Nathaniel clapped his hands together over the window and imagined smashing each Osprey like a dragonfly. Then, he imagined each falling to earth in flames, smashing in a great ball of fire in his backyard. ↗
He's like a storybook spirit, a little djinn or something, except instead of air or water his element is imagination. ↗
We expect the world of doctors. Out of our own need, we revere them; we imagine that their training and expertise and saintly dedication have purged them of all the uncertainty, trepidation, and disgust that we would feel in their position, seeing what they see and being asked to cure it. Blood and vomit and pus do not revolt them; senility and dementia have no terrors; it does not alarm them to plunge into the slippery tangle of internal organs, or to handle the infected and contagious. For them, the flesh and its diseases have been abstracted, rendered coolly diagrammatic and quickly subject to infallible diagnosis and effective treatment. The House of God is a book to relieve you of these illusions; it … displays it as farce, a melee of blunderers laboring to murky purpose under corrupt and platitudinous superiors. ↗
These illustrations suggest four general maxims[...]. The first is: remember that your motives are not always as altruistic as they seem to yourself. The second is: don't over-estimate your own merits. The third is: don't expect others to take as much interest in you as you do yourself. And the fourth is: don't imagine that most people give enough thought to you to have any special desire to persecute you. ↗
Mission motto, sir," said Carrot cheerfully. "Morituri Nolumus Mori. Rincewind suggested it." "I imagine he did," said Lord Vetinari, observing the wizard coldly. "And would you care to give us a colloquial translation, Mr Rincewind?" "Er..." Rincewind hesitated, but there really was no escape. "Er... roughly speaking, it means, 'We who are about to die don't want to', sir. ↗
People who have babies tell me I will know a love that is beyond anything I can imagine, and a joy that is indescribable. Love and joy? That sounds horrifying. I have no way of knowing whether I can handle either of those. I'm much better with need and fear. They are what ground me. ↗
I imagined/felt their palms sweating, their sweat mingling, mutually fertilized, and dripping to the ground, where it gave birth to a scolopendra, the forked ends of its tail bedecked with the sparkle of drying tears. Their sweat would mingle again at night; the sweat from their bellies would run down into their loins, fill their belly buttons, and glimmer in the moonlight like the tears drying on the scolopendra's tail. ↗
#love #lovers #passion #imagination
To move forward clinging to the past is like dragging a ball and chain. The prisoner is not the one who has committed a crime, but the one who clings to his crime and lives it over and over. We are all guilty of crime, the great crime of not living life to the full. But we are all potentially free. We can stop thinking of what we have failed to do and do whatever lies within our power. What these powers that are in us may be no one has truly dared to imagine. That they are infinite we will realize the day we admit to ourselves that imagination is everything. Imagination is the voice of daring. If there is anything God-like about God it is that. He dared to imagine everything. ↗
But why is it that if you imagine a baby who smells of milk, for example, you can't help smiling? Why is there such an agreement around the world about what is or isn't a foul smell? Who decided what smells bad? Is it impossible that somewhere in this world there are people who, if they sat next to a homeless fellow they'd get the urge to snuggle up to him, but if they sat next to a baby they'd get an urge to kill it? ↗
