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Quote by F.K. Preston

“I begin my life. I live again. I meet a young girl called Valeria. She smiles easily. She laughs tender sounds that pull at my heart. I’m too young to be profound but she makes me feel so safe. So cherished. I am thirty years old. I bump into a woman I knew when she was a girl. Valeria looks annoyed to see me. She lives in the future. Where the world is turning. I live within the past. Where the people are trapped and screaming and alone. I live within the past when Valeria and I were in love. She’s waiting for the cab to come, her foot tapping against the sidewalk. Her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes. I’m eager to reunite our lives through some kind of friendship. I’m so eager to know her again, as she was when she was a child. But Valeria lives within the future. I live within the past. Have the two ever gotten along? Have they ever even met?”

Quote by F.K. Preston

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F.K. Preston

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“But I can’t control my dreams. I can’t even remember them. For all I know I’m having the time of my life when I sleep, but I just can’t remember. So I’m forced to live in a life I have no control over. A life where I’m either numb to everything or terrified of every thought that crosses my mind. If this is all just a dream, then it sure is a disappointing one. But I still have time to try and control my dreams. I have time to try and make my dreams a reality in this waking life as well. The one bloody thing I have is time. I’ve got to remember that. I still have time. And despite everything, there is something reassuring about that.”

“- Ime i prezime? - zapitala je gospođa knjižničarka pogleda uprtog u članske iskaznice. - Ja sam... - prošaptalo je makovo zrno. - Ja sam... Tomičin tata. - Tomičin tata! Tata budućeg pisca! - uskliknula je gospođa knjižničarka i podigla pogled. Joj, da! Gospođa knjižničarka podigla je pogled i sledila se. - Oh, čovječe! - rekla je i zaprepašteno prinijela ruku ustima. Ispred nje stajao je čovjek koji dugo, dugo, dugo nije čitao. Dvadeset godina, možda i više! To se sasvim lijepo moglo vidjeti. Pretjerano ozbiljno lice, bore između obrva, usnice izvijene prema dolje... Da, i taj pogled, bez zvijezda, taman i hladan kao polarna noć... - Oh, čovječe, kako se osjećate? - pitala je zabrinuto gospođa knjižničarka. - Loše - rekao je tata i uzdahnuo. - Da, da - kimnula je knjižničarka sućutno i poput liječnika postavila dijagnozu: - Imaginatio destructiva progressiva. - Što? - zgranuo se tata. - Bolestan sam!? Tata nije razumio latinski, ali je slutio da je u pitanju bolest. Na posljetku, latinski je mrtav jezik. - Poremećaj mašte zbog nedostatka vitamina - tužno je zaključila gospođa knjižničarka. - No možda nije tako strašno! - tješila je knjižničarka tatu. Treba obaviti i dodatne pretrage. Hajde, zaklopite oči i zamislite... zamislite... zmaja!”

“He went to work in this preparatory lesson, not unlike Morgiana in the Forty Thieves: looking into all the vessels ranged before him, one after another, to see what they contained. Say, good M’Choakumchild. When from thy boiling store, thou shalt fill each jar brim full by-and-by, dost thou think that thou wilt always kill outright the robber Fancy lurking within—or sometimes only maim him and distort him!”

“Reality does not create the entire womb of human life. We have eyes that witness truth and beauty. We are creatures that think, plan, dream, and remember. The lambent luminescence supplied by human memory reveals that we live in a dream world. Human imagination tied to memory tells us how to live today and forevermore.”