#on

So close to the powers of evil she must have lived that she still breathed more freely in their air. ↗

— Edith Wharton

#change #dissonance #sanctification #age

To live, we must daily break the body and shed the blood of Creation. When we do this knowingly, lovingly, skillfully, reverently, it is a sacrament. When we do it ignorantly, greedily, clumsily, destructively, it is a desecration. In such desecration we condemn ourselves to spiritual and moral loneliness, and others to want. ↗

— Wendell Berry

#creatures #food #life #sacrament #art

He had passed beyond the afflictions of this world. Walt Disney had at last attained perfection. ↗

— Neal Gabler

#imagination

Don't you dare call me arrogant!If ever I had any at all-which I deny!- how much could I possibly have left after having been ridden over rough-shod by you and Thomas, do you imagine? ↗

— Georgette Heyer

#imagination

The number and richness of man’s signifiers always surpasses the set of defined objects that could be termed signifieds. The symbolic function must always precede its object and does not encounter reality except when it precedes it into the imaginary… ↗

— Maurice Merleau-Ponty

#symbols #imagination

Visionary builds what dreamers imagined. ↗

— Toba Beta

#visionary #imagination

Who is the brave man--he who feels no fear? If so, then bravery is but a polite term for a mind devoid of rationality and imagination. ↗

— Geraldine Brooks

#fear #imagination

We live in the world we made up. ↗

— Jim Paul

#imagination #story #imagination

Dancing. I couldn't understand the fascination my brother had for it, but I could respect what it meant to him. How could one imagine and wonder about something so simple? An action most take for granted, yet to those with limited abilities, it's as special as floating on a cloud and snatching the nearest star from the sky to stuff in your pocket so you might wish upon it whenever you choose. ↗

— Veronica Randolph Batterson

#dancing #special-needs #imagination

«Perché è così che ti frega, la vita. Ti piglia quando hai ancora l'anima addormentata e ti semina dentro un'immagine, o un odore, o un suono che poi non te lo togli più. E quella lì era la felicità. Lo scopri dopo, quand'è troppo tardi. E già sei, per sempre, un esule: a migliaia di chilometri da quell'imagine, da quel suono, da quell'odore. Alla deriva.» ↗

— Alessandro Baricco

#imagination