102
" Mutants, super beings, gods, aliens, a guy who sticks to walls at one extreme, a creature who eats planets at the other; Each one that comes into being, they feel, diminishes the rest of humanity, ordinary homo sapiens, that little bit more. "
― Chris Claremont , X-Men: Mutant Genesis
111
" I need to remember what they look like. I try to hold them still behind my eyes, their faces, like pictures in an album. But they won't stay still for me, they move, there's a smile and it's gone, their features curl and bend as if the paper's burning, blackness eats them. A glimpse, a pale shimmer on the air; a glow, aurora, dance of electrons, then a face again, faces. But they fade, though I stretch out my arms towards them, they slip away from me, ghosts at daybreak. Back to wherever they are. Stay with me, I want to say. But they won't. "
― Margaret Atwood , The Handmaid's Tale (The Handmaid's Tale, #1)
113
" DO! Don’t be concerned about what you are doing – do it so wholeheartedly that the very doing becomes a bliss. And don’t think of great things, there is no such thing as great or small. Don’t think that you are to do great things, play great music, paint great paintings, that you are to become a Picasso or a Van Gogh, or something else – a great writer, a Shakespeare, or a Milton. There is nothing – no great things, no small things. There are great men and small men but things are not great and small. And a great man is one who brings his greatness to every small thing that he is doing: he eats in a great way, he walks in a great way, he sleeps in a great way. He brings the quality of greatness to everything.
And what is greatness? Nature.... Nothing is greater than nature. "
― Osho , When the Shoe Fits: Stories of the Taoist Mystic Chuang Tzu
118
" She felt so lost and lonely. One last chile in walnut sauce left on the platter after a fancy dinner couldn't feel any worse than she did. How many times had she eaten one of those treats, standing by herself in the kitchen, rather than let it be thrown away. When nobody eats the last chile on the plate, it's usually because none of them wants to look like a glutton, so even though they'd really like to devour it, they don't have the nerve to take it. It was as if they were rejecting that stuffed pepper, which contains every imaginable flavor; sweet as candied citron, juicy as pomegranate, with the bit of pepper and the subtlety of walnuts, that marvelous chile in the walnut sauce. Within it lies the secret of love, but it will never be penetrated, and all because it wouldn't feel proper. "
― Laura Esquivel , Like Water for Chocolate