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Quote by Craig D. Lounsbrough

“The New Year is a fabricated line of demarcation wherein we believe that this ‘line’ gifts us with the opportunity for a new start and an excuse to celebrate it.”

Quote by Craig D. Lounsbrough

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Craig D. Lounsbrough

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“Što se slika tiče, njihov tok bi trebalo da je nalikovao puštanju filma, u koturu, na nekom od prvih projektora, s tim što je film sečen tako da su se između kadrova smeštale boje. Projektor sam bio ja, u srži vrtloga, a kroz moje oči je projektovan film na mračnoj pozadini koja se mreškala, kovitlala i stremila visinama. Na tom tajanstvenom filmu nisam prepoznao nikog koga poznajem. Glavni, a ujedno i jedini glumac, bio sam ja. Posmatrao sam sebe iz tuđe perspektive – te sam sebi izgledao kao tuđin, kao neko koga ne poznajem i po čijoj se prošlosti slobodno može čeprkati. Čije su konkretno te tačke gledišta – katkad sam mogao da pogodim, katkad da pretpostavim, ali najčešće nisam imao pojma. U potonjim prilikama, sebe sam mogao da prepoznam manje. Delovao sam starije, stajao na nepoznatim mi mestima, sa ljudima koje još nisam sreo, a čija su mi se lica činila čudnim. Kao da je i njih i mene nešto naročito izmenilo – da li nabolje ili nagore, tada mi to nije bilo bitno, jer sam se usredsredio na naše poglede, jer u njima sam pronašao simptome korenite promene koju samo spoznaja nečeg posebnog može da podstakne. Najbolje se sećam pogledâ. Pogledâ i prizorâ, ponekog detalja, ali prizori su ti koji mi ni sad ne daju mira.”

“Pored toga, prožela me je senzacija – promene. Neodređene, ali nezanemarljive, nepovratne i neverovatne, koja se dâ uporediti sa saznanjem da Zemlja nije ravna, niti da stoji u centru svemira. Neodređeno je, jer to ne osećamo neposredno, ali otkrili smo da smo statistička anomalija, a ne ovozemaljska stvorenja sa onozemaljskom svrhom. Posle toga povratka nema, a nekima je prilično teško da u to veruju, jer im jedan život, bez iluzija, ne može ugasiti žeđ.”

“I was changing, and it scared me, for I wanted to be a child always, and I did not want Dug to grow up. I wanted it to always be brittle cold November and both of us working there in that field, with birds flying and calling lonesome far above, and looking forward to how good the fire would feel at the end of the day. But that kind of thing can never be, and that is what hurt me like a knife.”

“Winds are changing,” Wit whispered. Dalinar glanced at him. Wit’s eyes narrowed, and he scanned the night sky. “It’s been happening for months now. A whirlwind. Shifting and churning, blowing us round and around. Like a world spinning, but we can’t see it because we’re too much a part of it.” “World spinning. What foolishness is this?” “The foolishness of men who care, Dalinar,” Wit said. “And the brilliance of those who do not. The second depend on the first—but also exploit the first—while the first misunderstand the second, hoping that the second are more like the first. And all of their games steal our time. Second by second.”

“My former attitude was the luxury of a sheltered child who got to his twenties without ever doubting the stability (and, smugly, I know, the superiority) of his country, without disaster. As it did to so many of my generation, 9/11 broke a stupor that should have broken well before. It seems impossible to me that people who weren't alive then will soon be getting their driver's licenses. When I zoom out, much of this country's history since that day seems a fitful, graceless descent to overseas violence and domestic paranoia. Terrorism works.”