- Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour. Victor Hugo
- There are no weeds, and no worthless men. There are only bad farmers. Victor Hugo
- “The human population would probably be way less than a thousand, if ejaculation were not usually accompanied by an orgasm.” ― Mokokoma Mokhonoana
- “On these days, I’ve never felt so hollow. Recollecting the many pieces of me that were lost in past sub-lives. They were the minor characters of my novel life, the sub-plots to the whole story. On these days I was the binding that held the book together, I was not the words.” ― Hubert Martin
- Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. William Shakespeare (See also: wise quotes)
- “I realized the world around me was fragmented and broken… I had to be gentle enough not to scrape against the jagged pieces. I would not be cut today.” ― Hubert Martin
- “Her words were slickly lacquered, dripping with venom that singed the air as they fell. She traced her tongue up my neck and whispered in a way that would shatter glass. “It’s the words inbetween,” she said, “those are the ones I truly mean.” Then, her toes curled with the release of the truth she kept hidden.” ― Hubert Martin
- I’m just trying to think about the future and not be sad. Elon Musk
- Be alone, that is the secret of invention; be alone, that is when ideas are born. Nikola Tesla
- “I wonder how many people don’t get the one they want, but end up with the one they’re supposed to be with.” ― Fannie Flagg, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
- “Some of us were brought into this troubled world primarily or only to increase our fathers’ chances of not being left by our mothers, or vice versa.” ― Mokokoma Mokhonoana, The Use and Misuse of Children
- “Class is a bubble, formed by privilege, shaping and manipulating your concept of reality. But it can at least be brought to mind; acknowledged comprehended, even atoned for through transformative action. By comparing your privilege with that of others you may be able to modify both your world and the worlds outside your world – if the will is there to do it. Suffering is not like that. Suffering has an absolution relation to the suffering individual – it cannot be easily mediated by a third term like ‘privilege’.” ― Zadie Smith, Intimations
- All human wisdom is summed up in two words; wait and hope. Alexandre Dumas
- “She was small. Her shadow moved in the dance of chaos before her as the inferno blazed behind her and licked the sky with its many tongues. She clutched an indistinguishable toy with both arms tightly. Her face was serene. Her eyes shone with courage more immense than the surrounding flames. She was small, but at that moment, I’ve never seen a bigger person.” ― Hubert Martin
- “Divide the constant tide and random noisiness of energetic flow, with conscious recurring moments of empty mind, solitude, gratitude and deep…slow…breathing. Of this, the natural law of self-preservation demands.” ― T.F. Hodge, From Within I Rise: Spiritual Triumph Over Death and Conscious Encounters with “The Divine Presence”
- “My heart may be bruised and scarred, bleeding slow drip-drip with every thump and every other thump-thump that widens unsealable wounds. My heart is the strongest part of me. It’s survived everything I’ve thrown at it and much more than it should.” ― Hubert Martin
- They muddy the water, to make it seem deep. Friedrich Nietzsche
- “I” is another. Arthur Rimbaud
- As long as I am breathing, in my eyes, I am just beginning. Criss Jami
- “Whether it was in the maze of my fantastical mind or the allure of her gossamer eyes, they took me to undiscovered worlds of azure and metamorphosis. The air shimmered with every breath, the water tightened with every sound.” ― Hubert Martin
- We suffer more often in imagination than in reality. Seneca
- Time is a created thing. To say “I don’t have time”, is like saying, “I don’t want to”. Lao Tzu
- The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. Ernest Hemingway
- “Woven words are little conviction when I present myself as a man of fiction.” ― Hubert Martin
- Education begins the gentleman, but reading, good company and reflection must finish him. John Locke
- Passion is born deaf and dumb. Honoré de Balzac
- “Spare parts lay scattered, every turn wrought with twisted dread, all over the ground, the rooftops, and they were still. Some moving, twitching, enough to almost see. Half cracked and shattered, but still visible and eerie, smiles spread wide and thin, teeth decayed and not, paralleled by hollowed, some missing or in other places, eyes of shades green and blue and some brown with red, but no white, just color portrayed, even if it may be dampened in every way. The beauty in the frivolity, the polished shining gears and cracked glass illuminated so brightly, create a portrait of terror and wonder, significance of a different sort, that only human eyes can see and human minds can feel, but all this is something only dreams, the ethereal concepts that fuse and mince chaos and order into a more paradoxical state, can create and fathom and fashion and make. And yet, doubts upon anxious contradictions, my fingers can feel the brokenness of what can be witnessed, an abyss within a void where deeper within the still lies a glow, a half pulse of a flutter, a vein of mimicry of the reverse of all I see, with concave eyes lost in the magnitude of image whole. Massive and monumental, my feet dragged behind me, cuts in the dirt and spiraling tracks. And then I awoke, half my world disappeared. So much empty within the whole, holes of sizes big and small and all between, the loss of, what it was to be called, my dream. And then my life ended, the holes and tears and cracks complete, empty eyes can still see so clearly, the nothingness that everything has become, shadow and matte a combination of dark on black, in the nothingness that all has become, it is all complete in a way opposite of what I know, a world different in every way and stretch I see, vision upon view of different and strange, only when empty eyes, longing for purpose dreading its meaning, gaze upon their own reflection will the last piece fall into place, a round puzzle of pieces triangular and square, the completeness in the nothingness can be seen, mind flooded with wonder, envisioning the antonym of a dream, and what, in this new beginning, this all could mean. With a blink it all changes, incomplete images appear, holes are wide and seen because you are back now, between death and dream, interwoven as an integral part of this necessary in between seam, and when you touch, worry creases the brow, their faces, half real and the other untouchable, your hand passes through their skin, penetration of the most intimate sort, holding their hearts as if for sport. The warmth, the beating, the crimson piercing blood, so beautiful, the engine that we run, pumping and pumping only to cause the most dreaded flood. Now I drown, and I see you drown too. Together, we are, for split seconds few, we are torn apart and disappear in this vast blood red hue.” ― Hubert Martin
- He who opens a school door, closes a prison. Victor Hugo
- The fears we don’t face become our limits. Jim Kwik
- “Everyone is their own, though they are so alone. They all sit on their imagined thrones, made only of their own bones. Ego and pride make exquisite delusional cushions.” ― Hubert Martin