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Quote by Steven Decker

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Projector for Sale

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Steven Decker

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“But most of all, she thought of John. She pictured him in Dingle, sitting out on the veranda of his wonderful little house, gazing with his peacefully intense, ocean blue eyes out toward the sea. She wondered if he was alone, and suspected he was, and she also reflected that he was probably quite sad, just as she was at that very moment.”

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Book:Projector for Sale
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“Once I had an odd dream. A person I don’t remember was telling me in my sleep that unless one is properly buried or cremated with rituals, the soul remains tethered to the body. So, you are conscious of everything, even when you die. You hear everything. You see everything. You see your own dead body from above, and only when the funeral is over, you detach from it and make the transition to a fresh one.”

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Book:The World's Most Frustrated Man
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“Everyone dreams, but only some people are dreamers. The non-dreamers, by far more numerous, are those who see the world as it is. Then there are the few dreamers, who see the world as they are. The moon, the river, the train station, the sound of rain, and even something as mundane as porridge become something else with many layers. The world feels like an oil painting rather than a photograph, and the dreamers are forever seeing hidden colors where others just see the top shade. The nondreamers look through glasses, and the dreamers through a prism”

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Book:Beasts of a Little Land
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“I felt a downright fear of the mathematics class. The teacher pretended that algebra was a perfectly natural affair, to be taken for granted, whereas I didn’t even know what numbers really were. They were not flowers, not animals, not fossils; they were nothing that could be imagined, mere quantities that resulted from counting. To my confusion these quantities were now represented by letters, which signified sounds, so that it became possible to hear them, so to speak. Oddly enough, my classmates could handle these things and found them self-evident. No one could tell me what numbers were, and I was unable even to formulate the question.”

MemoriesDreamsReflections
Author:Carl Gustav Jung
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“When was it that first I heard of the grass harp? Long before the autumn we lived in the China tree; an earlier autumn, then; and of course it was Dolly who told me, no one else would have known to call it that, a grass harp. . . If on leaving town you take the church road you soon will pass a glaring hill of bonewhite slabs and brown burnt flowers: this is the Baptist cemetery. . . below the hill grows a field of high Indian grass that changes color with the seasons: go to see it in the fall, late September, when it has gone red as sunset, when scarlet shadows light firelight breeze over it and the autumn winds strum on its dry leaves sighing human music, a harp of voices. . . It must have been on one of those September days when we were there in the woods gathering roots that Dolly said: Do you hear? that is the grass harp, always telling a story -- it knows the stories of all the people on the hill, of all the people who ever lived, and when we are dead it will tell ours, too.”

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Book:The Grass Harp, Including A Tree of Night and Other Stories
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