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Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

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Jayita Bhattacharjee

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“And why’s Janis Joplin’s life read as a downward spiral into self-destruction? Everything she did is filtered through her death. Roger Gilbert-Lecomte, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, River Phoenix all suicided too but we see their deaths as aftermaths of lives that went too far. But let a girl choose death—Janis Joplin, Simone Weil—and death becomes her definition, the outcome of her “problems.” To be female still means being trapped within the purely psychological. No matter how dispassionate or large a vision of the world a woman formulates, whenever it includes her own experience and emotion, the telescope’s turned back on her. Because emotion’s just so terrifying the world refuses to believe that it can be pursued as discipline, as form. Dear Dick, I want to make the world more interesting than my problems. Therefore, I have to make my problems social.”

“It's a strange feeling. Everywhere I go, I'm the first. Step outside the rover? First guy to be there! Climb a hill? First guy to climb that hill! Kick a rock? That rock hadn't moved in a million years! I'm the first guy to drive long-distance on Mars. The first guy to spend more than thirty-one sols on Mars. The first guy to grow crops on Mars. First, first, first! ... Jesus Christ, I'd give anything for a five minute conversation with anyone. Anyone, anywhere. About anything. I'm the first person to be alone on an entire planet.”

“I don't even know what to say. This was an insane plan and somehow it worked! I'm going to be talking to someone again. I spent three months as the loneliest man in history and it's finally over. Sure, I might not get rescued. But I won't be alone. The whole time I was recovering Pathfinder, I imagined what this moment would be like. I figured I'd jump up and down a bit, cheer, maybe flip off the ground (because this whole damn planet is my enemy), but that's not what happened. When I got back to the Hab and took off the EVA suit, I sat down in the dirt and cried. Bawled like a little kid for several minutes. I finally settled down to mild sniffling and then felt a deep calm. It was a good calm.”

“Tragedy, he perceived, belonged to the ancient time, to a time when there were still privacy, love, and friendship, and when the members of a family stood by one another without needing to know the reason. His mother's memory tore at his heart because she had died loving him, when he was too young and selfish to love her in return, and because somehow, he did not remember how, she had sacrificed herself to a conception of loyalty that was private and unalterable. Such things, he saw, could not happen today. Today there were fear, hatred, and pain, but no dignity of emotion, or deep or complex sorrows. All this he seemed to see in the large eyes of his mother and his sister, looking up at him through the green water, hundreds of fathoms down and still sinking.”

“In the depths of my longing, there comes the tides of love and a dream I once had as the sky breaks in the blush of a sunset. The hushed evening moments, how I devour it with the longing of a starving deep, to pen a poem with unflinching desire..pushing through what is unmet in this life and there comes the raw prose, the unfading emotions to surface that lived in my soul for ages.”

“There comes your desperate plea to live again, for you know, time is passing like a river, and nothing ever will stay the same. There comes your deep desire to dream again, to love again, for one more time, but God only gives you one chance to live it right. And when things are burning deep inside, you take out the blank paper where drops the silent ink. There it is ..the flames of your heart, in the shape of a love letter, or an etched flower of your deep. What is profound never really dies. It only changes the form.. from one to another. There comes the power of transformation...”