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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“It's laughable, looking back, to see the processes I went through, pretending to make a reasoned decision. No choice is ever made on the basis of logic; the logic is fabricated around the impulse, the initial desire which is innate and incontrovertible. All the time, I knew where I was going, the elements of my fulfillment or ruin were always present; I only had to work my way into that seam of desire and find the hidden vein of dross or gold. It's not a question of predestination, it's just that free will and destiny are illusions, false opposites, consolations. In the end, they are one and the same: a single process. You choose what you choose and it could not have been otherwise: the choice is destiny. It was there all along, but any alternative you might have considered is an absurd diversion, because it is in your nature to make one choice rather than another. That is identity. To speak of freedom or destiny is absurd because it suggests there is something outside yourself, directing your life, where really it is of the essence: identity, the craftwork of the soul.”

“It's life asking, "Are you all in? Can you value your own vulnerability as much as you value it in others?" Answering yet to these questions is not weakness: It's courage beyond measure. It's daring greatly. And often the result of daring greatly isn't a victory march as much as it is a quiet sense of freedom mixed with a little battle fatigue.”

“It's life, it's happening to you right now, what are going to do with your time here? Are you going to help people? are you going to chase your career, start a family or buy many properties; independently? Whatever it is, make a choice and do something with it - one thing is certain, most people die living their life, never a day before or after, only when their truly experiencing. That could be tomorrow, would you be proud of everything you became and achieved? If not, now is your second chance.”

“It's like a bunch of hookers advertising their cellulite/ stretch- mark infested bodies to the highest bidder, and then claiming they deserve respect. Crawling on their hands and knees, pupils dilated on the high of greed, licking their lips almost tasting their next job of self- whoredom, and nothing is more tempting than the idea of Mr. Ellison. He could pay for tricks perform by the Pope, chandler-swinging strip-tease nuns.. No one has ever said "NO" to the idea of money and therefore no one has ever said "No" to Mr. Ellison and actually meant it... and then you have to wonder why he has no respect for people?”

“It's like a chronic illness, living under a government that does not see or hear you, that does not care. There are many of us who have lived that way in more ways--for far longer--than others: people of color, women, immigrants, and, of course, the disabled and those suffering actual chronic illness and injury, each suffering their own misery, acknowledged more or less by the society at large depending on the current fashion. For those currently in charge of the systems that be, we who suffer are out of fashion.”

“It's like a...dance somehow, a minuet or a pavane. Something stately and pointless, with all its steps set out. With a beginning, and an end... Sir John, sometimes I think life's all a mass of significance, all sorts of strands and threads woven like a tapestry or a brocade. So if you pulled one out or broke it the pattern would alter right back through the cloth. Then I think...it's all totally pointless, it would make just as much sense backwards as forwards, effects leading to causes and those to more effects...maybe that's what will happen, when we get to the end of Time.”

“It’s like a man in the trenches again: he doesn’t know any more why he should go on living, because if he escapes now he’ll only be caught later, but he goes on just the same, and even though he has the soul of a cockroach and has admitted as much to himself, give him a gun or a knife or even just his bare nails, and he’ll go on slaughtering and slaughtering, he’d slaughter a million men rather than stop and ask himself why.”

“It's like a stomach ache after not eating for five days. The muscles are starting to eat themselves, and you couldn't care less. It's about holding on to every moment with every ounce of your being, every atom. It's about memorising every expression, the way your muscles work, the way you speak, how your voice sounds during every part of the day. It's about not feeling the goodbye in every kiss, in every hug, in every touch. It's about trying to keep your voice steady even with a knife to your throat. It's August and I'm tired of being strong. I never really was very brave. Throw me on sharp edges, I've never felt so destructive.”

“It's like coming home," said Webster and he wasn't talking to the dog. "It's like you've been away for a long, long time and then you come home again. And it's so long you don't recognize the place. Don't know the furniture, don't recognize the floor plan. But you know by the feel of it that it's an old familiar place and you are glad you came." "I like it here," said. Ebenezer and he meant Webster's lap, but the man misunderstood. "Of course, you do," he said. "It's your home as well as mine. More your home, in fact, for you stayed here and took care of it while I forgot about it.”

“It's like Dungeons and Dragons, but real." Jace was looking at Simon as if he were some bizarre species of insect. "It's like what?" "It's a game," Clary explained. She felt vaguely embarrassed. "People pretend to be wizards and elves, and they kill monsters and stuff." Jace looked stupefied. Simon grinned. "You've never heard of Dungeons and Dragons?" "I've heard of dungeons," Jace said. "Also dragons. Although they're mostly extinct." Simon looked disappointed. "You've never killed a dragon?" "He's probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either," Clary said irritably. "Lay off, Simon." "Real elves are about eight inches tall," Jace pointed out. "Also, they bite.”