It’s one thing to know what’s right, and it’s another to do what is right.
—Dr. J. Matthew Sleeth
- Mad Hatter: "Have I gone mad?"
- Alice: "I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret; all the best people are."
- "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars." — jack kerouac
Sometimes a kind a glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and sober. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then—glory—so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man’s importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men… If the glory can be killed, we are lost.
—East of Eden, John Steinbeck (via chloethelyon)
I want to sing one for all the dreamers
I’m singing this one for the sparks
Here’s one for the friction makers
We are the bleeding hearts
Don’t care whoever you are
We rise and fall together
Our hearts still beat below
You can’t stand by forever
You’re a kid with a bullet soul
Are you ready to go?
—From the song “Bullet Soul” by Switchfoot