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1 " Perhaps I am like you. I love the byways, the tiny adventures, the faces that smile for an instant and are gone, a little boy with his face between the railings of a fence, watching the shoes go by. What is he thinking about? The people and their joys and sorrows? No way, he is seeing the shoes, shoes that tramp, limp, scuffle along, and perhaps his greatest concern is the tiny bug they might step on.It is probably the true meaning of compassionate, wondering about people's passions, thier feelings. Passion, one of the loveliest words in the language, one of the most misunderstood. One can have a love for so many things, but novelists sometimes overwork the word. Perhaps one can have a passionate belief, but not a passionate love for a car or asparagus. Passion is private, gentle, consuming, understanding and personal. It expresses so many things but does not belong to lipstick. It is in nature, pictures, people, always people. I suppose compassion begins when you watch the shoes and worry about the bug. "
2 " The photographer was lost for riposte, obvious though it should have been; instead he turned to run. At least his mind did. In fact, his mind had already scooted down the Broad Walk and was clambering over the railings at the end, whereas his body had remained rooted to the spot. With some effort he looked down at his feet as if to reprimand them. They refused to take notice. "
― James Herbert , Creed
3 " Nothing shows a greater contempt for individuality than the train. Modern civilization uses every possible means to develop individuality, and having done so, tries everything in its power to stamp it out. It allots a few square yards to each person, and tells them that they are free to lead their life as they please within that area. At the same time it erects railings around them, and threatens them with all sorts of dire consequences if they should dare to take but one step beyond their compass. It is only natural that the person who has freedom within the confines of their allocated plot, should desire to have freedom to do as they wish outside it too. Civilization's pitiable subjects are forever snapping and snarling at imprisoning bars, for they have been made as fierce as tigers by the gift of liberty, but have been thrown into a cage to preserve universal peace. This, however, is not a true peace. It is the peace of the tiger in a menagerie who lies glowering at those who have come to look at it. "
― Natsume Sōseki , The Three-Cornered World
