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A precious, mouldering pleasure ‘t isTo meet an antique bookIn just the dress his century wore;A privilege, I think,His venerable hand to take,And warming in our own,A passage back, or two, to makeTo times when he was young.His quaint opinions to inspect,His knowledge to unfoldOn what concerns our mutual mind,The literature of old…
Emily Dickinson

A precious, mouldering pleasure ‘t is
To meet an antique book
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.

His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old…

Emily Dickinson

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I do what I want to do. It was a brash statement of(her)girlhood. Now she was an adult, the boast seemed quaint. For rarely do you know what you want. Even after you’ve done it you can’t say clearly if that was what you’d wanted or just something that happened to you, like weather.
Joyce Carol Oates

I do what I want to do. It was a brash statement of(her)girlhood. Now she was an adult, the boast seemed quaint. For rarely do you know what you want. Even after you’ve done it you can’t say clearly if that was what you’d wanted or just something that happened to you, like weather.

Joyce Carol Oates

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Nothing desiccates a mind so much as its repugnance to conceive obscure ideas.
Emil Cioran

Nothing desiccates a mind so much as its repugnance to conceive obscure ideas.

Emil Cioran

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Something among dusty shelves of ordered certitudes long divorced from reality, desiccating peacefully, as if a breath of that air which sees injustice done.
Faulkner

Something among dusty shelves of ordered certitudes long divorced from reality, desiccating peacefully, as if a breath of that air which sees injustice done.

Faulkner

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Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.
Warm Bodies

Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.

Warm Bodies

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When by my solitary hearth I sit,And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;When no fair dreams before my ‘mind’s eye’ flit,And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.
Keats

When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my ‘mind’s eye’ flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.

Keats

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One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it. Passers-by see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way.
Vincent van Gogh

One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it. Passers-by see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way.

Vincent van Gogh

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The Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.
White Fang

The Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.

White Fang

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In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die:
Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?
Lewis Carroll

In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?

Lewis Carroll

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And day to day, life’s a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. You need distance, interval. The way to see how beautiful the earth is, is to see it as the moon. The way to see how beautiful life is, is from the vantage point of death.
Ursula K. Le Guin

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

And day to day, life’s a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. You need distance, interval. The way to see how beautiful the earth is, is to see it as the moon. The way to see how beautiful life is, is from the vantage point of death.

Ursula K. Le Guin

-Seattle Mystery Bookshop

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We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another’s vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.
Watchmen

We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another’s vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away.

Watchmen

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Have you tried turning it off and on again?

Have you tried turning it off and on again?

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