“Get out of bed, make a hot drink and go outside. You owe yourself that much. Maybe you still cry in far too many public bathrooms, but I swear, you stay a few seconds less every time. Smile at strangers if it’s all you can do, know that life doesn’t start when the sun rises or the credits roll but when you decide it’s time to go after what you deserve, and you deserve everything because we are alive both only once and a million times every day and every minute is something new to learn and someone new to love, and if it all crashes and burns as it so often does cling on to hope through it all and don’t ever ever ever let it go. Start your life again whenever you need to. Repeat after me: it is not yet the end. It is not yet the end. It is not yet the end.”—A Greater Reality
“We know his beginning. We know the middles we choose for him. But chances are he’ll never have the one thing that fandom desperately wants for him: an end. A regeneration scene, McGann’s features blurring into those of Christopher Eccleston. There was a time, I think, when that made me sad. Now I wonder if that’s not the best thing about Doctor Eight – the one “past Doctor” who can go on and on without ever losing his mystique, for whom cliffhangers will always dangle in the present tense.
So let’s never see that regeneration, be it in a Time War or due to a nasty paper cut. Let’s have him journey on and on, into a never quite certain future. An eternal champion; the undying Doctor.”—Alan Barnes on the Eighth Doctor, Doctor Who’s 49th Anniversary: Splendid Chap, All Of Them (via meiringens)
I remember reading The Summer Book once when I was younger, and then again when my grandmother died - I wanted to go back in time, back to summer and the island, to when I borrowed that book from my grandmother. I took a piece of summer home with me over the winter, over that winter. And how peculiar it is that I can come back to that time by reading the same book again, I can see the future from there and I don’t want to leave.
“How often people speak of art and science as though they were two entirely different things, with no interconnection. An artist is emotional, they think, and uses only his intuition; he sees all at once and has no need of reason. A scientist is cold, they think, and uses only his reason; he argues carefully step by step, and needs no imagination. That is all wrong. The true artist is quite rational as well as imaginative and knows what he is doing; if he does not, his art suffers. The true scientist is quite imaginative as well as rational, and sometimes leaps to solutions where reason can follow only slowly; if he does not, his science suffers.”—Isaac Asimov, “Art and Science,” The Roving Mind, 1983. (via meiringens)
“We have survived all the way from birth to this very moment and we look at each other and some of us start laughing and others start weeping and one or two of us break out into a wordless humming song and all of us mean the exact same thing. Look at us. Look at us out in the honey light of the finished day. Look at us and rejoice in our sheer being…Night has arrived, ladies. Night is here, gentlemen. Night falls on our weary bodies and night falls on you, too. You too have survived. Survived everything up to this moment. Grip tight. Hum. Laugh. Cry. Forget nothing and think many things of it.”—Cecil Baldwin (Welcome to Night Vale)