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“Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrust
To suffer death or shame for what is just”
― E. R. Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros

“But because day at her dawning hours hath so bewitched me, must I yet love her when glutted with triumph she settles to garish noon? . . . Who dares call me turncoat, who do but follow now as I have followed this rare wisdom all my days: to love the sunrise and the sundown and the morning and the evening star.”
― E.R. Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros

“In which star of the unclimbed sky wilt though begin our search? Or in which of the secret streams of the ocean where the last green rays are quenched in oozy darkness?”
― E.R. Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros

“He that feareth is a slave, were he never so rich, were he never so powerful. But he that is without fear is king of all the world. Though hast my sword. Strike. Death shall be a sweet rest to me. Thraldom, not death, should terrify me.”
― E.R. Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros

“Us, little children of the dust, children of a day, who with so many burdens do burden us with taking thought and with fears and desires and devious schemings of the mind, so that we wax old before our time and fall weary ere the brief day be spent and one reaping-hook gather us home at last for all our pains.”
― E.R. Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros

“The harvest of this world is to the resolute, and he that is infirm of purpose is ground betwixt the upper and the nether millstone”
― E.R. Eddison, The Worm Ouroboros

“Talent hits a target no one else can hit. Genius hits a target no one else can see.”
― Arthur Schopenhauer

“In literature as in love, we are astonished at what is chosen by others.”
― Andr茅 Maurois

“Liberty," boomed Wednesday, as they walked to the car, "is a bitch who must be bedded on a mattress of corpses.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“This is the only country in the world," said Wednesday, into the stillness, "that worries about what it is."
"What?"
"The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“Say 'Nevermore,'" said Shadow.
"Fuck You," said the Raven.”
― Neil Gaiman, American Gods

“It鈥檚 a long and crooked walk to a bad friend, even if he lives nearby. But it鈥檚 an easy road to a good friend, no matter how long the journey.”
― Jackson Crawford, The Poetic Edda: Stories of the Norse Gods and Heroes

“There is no man so good
that he has no flaw,
nor a man so bad he鈥檚 good for nothing.
-- H谩v谩m谩l, stanza 133.”
― Jackson Crawford

“Every new day is the erasing of something more. Mistakes and shortcomings used to be a secret motivation. It was something that pushed you forward, faster. Now mistakes are sold as personality traits, to the point where the many willingly make them. Soon comes the inversion, where successes are kept under wraps because it's too pretentious or uppity to share them”
― Mike Ma, Gothic Violence

“So many books, so little time.”
― Frank Zappa

“To the hyper-judgmental gay community, I say this: don't throw stones when you live in glass houses, everyone can see you barebacking strangers from the internet. You also have bad taste. Glass walls? Time to execute your decorator. And yourself.”
― Mike Ma, Harassment Architecture

“Loyalty to country ALWAYS. Loyalty to government, when it deserves it.”
― Mark Twain

“The blood of the heroes is closer to God than the ink of the philosophers and the prayers of the faithful.”
― Julius Evola, Revolt Against the Modern World

“A library is a place where you can lose your innocence without losing your virginity.”
― Germaine Greer

“A friend to all is a friend to none.”
― Aristotle

“No one hath seen beauty in its highest lustre who hath never seen it in distress.”
― Henry Fielding, Tom Jones

“It is hard enough to remember my opinions, without also remembering my reasons for them!”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

“All is mystery; but he is a slave who will not struggle to penetrate the dark veil.”
― Benjamin Disraeli

“I sought her eye, desirous to read there the intelligence which I could not discern in her face or hear in her conversation; it was merry, rather small; by turns I saw vivacity, vanity, coquetry, look out through its irid, but I watched in vain for a glimpse of soul. I am no Oriental; white necks, carmine lips and cheeks, clusters of bright curls, do not suffice for me without that Promethean spark which will live after the roses and lilies are faded, the burnished hair grown grey. In sunshine, in prosperity, the flowers are very well; but how many wet days are there in life--November seasons of disaster, when a man's hearth and home would be cold indeed, without the clear, cheering gleam of intellect.”
― Charlotte Bront毛, The Professor

“Interviewer ...In the case of "American Psycho" I felt there was something more than just this desire to inflict pain--or that Ellis was being cruel the way you said serious artists need to be willing to be.

DFW: You're just displaying the sort of cynicism that lets readers be manipulated by bad writing. I think it's a kind of black cynicism about today's world that Ellis and certain others depend on for their readership. Look, if the contemporary condition is hopelessly shitty, insipid, materialistic, emotionally retarded, sadomasochistic, and stupid, then I (or any writer) can get away with slapping together stories with characters who are stupid, vapid, emotionally retarded, which is easy, because these sorts of characters require no development. With descriptions that are simply lists of brand-name consumer products. Where stupid people say insipid stuff to each other. If what's always distinguished bad writing -- flat characters, a narrative world that's cliched and not recognizably human, etc. -- is also a description of today's world, then bad writing becomes an ingenious mimesis of a bad world. If readers simply believe the world is stupid and shallow and mean, then Ellis can write a mean shallow stupid novel that becomes a mordant deadpan commentary on the badness of everything. Look man, we'd probably most of us agree that these are dark times, and stupid ones, but do we need fiction that does nothing but dramatize how dark and stupid everything is? In dark times, the definition of good art would seem to be art that locates and applies CPR to those elements of what's human and magical that still live and glow despite the times' darkness. Really good fiction could have as dark a worldview as it wished, but it'd find a way both to depict this world and to illuminate the possibilities for being alive and human in it. You can defend "Psycho" as being a sort of performative digest of late-eighties social problems, but it's no more than that.”
― David Foster Wallace