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Indeed, loft aspirations produce ideas.
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When I contemplate the natural dignity of man; when I feel (for Nature has not been kind enough to me to blunt my feelings) for the honor and happiness of its character, I become irritated at the attempt to govern mankind by force and fraud, as if they were all knaves and fools, and can scarcely avoid disgust at those who are thus imposed upon.
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Mental inertia is death.
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People have told me to have sex when i feel the desire to, but right now i have no desire to pull my pants down in front of a girl.
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I think we must ask ourselves if this is really what we want to do to God's creation, to drive it to extinction? Because extinction really is irreversible; species that go extinct are lost forever. This is not like Jurassic Park. We can't bring them back.
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And isn't the whole world yours? For how often you set it on fire with your love and saw it blaze and burn up and secretly replaced it with another world while everyone slept. You felt in such complete harmony with God, when every morning you asked him for a new earth, so that all the ones he had made could have their turn. You thought it would be shabby to save them and repair them; you used them up and held out your hands, again and again, for more world. For your love was equal to everything.
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I see an incredible abuse of close-ups in many films these days. Why is that?
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I don't believe in hunches. Hunches are for dogs making love.
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Writing tends to be very deliberate. A novelist could probably run a military campaign with some success. They could certainly run a country.
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One thinking it is right to speak all things, whether the word is fit for speech or unutterable.
