Every literary critic believes he will outwit history and have the last word.

Is it eradicating evil? Or are we like children, left alone in the house at night, who light candle after candle to keep away the darkness. We don

Margaret Weis, Time of the Twins

From error to error, one discovers the entire truth.

Sigmund Freud

My advice to writers just starting out? Don't use semi-colons! They are transvestite hermaphrodites, representing exactly nothing. All they do is suggest you might have gone to college.

Kurt Vonnegut

Take every gain without showing remorse about missed profits, because an eel may escape sooner than you think.

Lope de Vega

if the world go wrong, it was, in some off-hand manner, never meant to go right.

Charles Dickens

Without the quest, there can be no epiphany.

Constantine E. Scaros

My dad used to say, 'You have to become part of the machine to beat the machine,' and there's some validity in it. But honestly, even when I'm inside the machine, you still see me. I stick out a little bit.

Michael Shannon

You can't fatten the pig on market day.

John Howard

?Every opportunity missed is an opportunity for regret

Karl Kloppenborg

This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears he is a protector.

Plato

Percussion music is revolution. Sound and rhythm have too long been submissive to the restrictions of nineteenth century music. Today we are fighting for their emancipation. Tomorrow, with electronic music in our ears, we will hear freedom. At the present stage of revolution, a healthy lawlessness is warranted. Experiment must necessarily be carried on by hitting anything-tin pans, rice bowls, iron pipes-anything we can lay our hands on. Not only hitting, but rubbing, scraping, making sound in every possible way...What we can't do ourselves will be done by machines which we will invent.

John Milton Cage

His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.

Ernest Hemingway