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It’s about vagabonding, sitting down under a tree anywhere. It’s about wandering in the universe by yourself: you will start looking again. The conventional world puts a veil over your eyes, it’s a matter of taking it off during your time as a photographer.

—Sergio Larrain

Fred has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s, and has started saying the most wonderfully strange things. […] We’ve been together for a long time, and I’ve known him over many incarnations. There’s the infatuation Fred, there’s the long-term Fred, and this is the last of the Freds. But of all of the Freds that I’ve known, this is maybe the best one. This is Fred exiting. There’s no subterfuge—he says exactly what he feels. [I] asked Fred, “Why do you think we’re here?” And he replied, “To take care of each other.” I thought that was brilliant. That’s the only meaning! Asked and answered.

The Last Sentimentalist: A Q. & A. with Duane Michals

Why do farmers farm, given their economic adversities on top of the many frustrations and difficulties normal to farming? And always the answer is: “Love. They must do it for the love.” Farmers farm for the love of farming. They love to watch and nurture the growth of plants. They love to live in the presence of animals. They love to work outdoors. They love the weather, maybe even when it is making them miserable. They love to live where they work and to work where they live. If the scale of their farming is small enough, they like to work in the company of their children and with the help of their children. They love the measure of independence that farm life can still provide. I have an idea that a lot of farmers have gone to a lot of trouble merely to be self-employed, to live at least a part of their lives without a boss.

—Wendell Berry

Call them members of the permanent intern underclass: educated members of the millennial generation who are locked out of the traditional career ladder and are having to settle for two, three and sometimes more internships after graduating college, all with no end in sight.

Millennials Feel Trapped in a Cycle of Internships With Little Pay and No Job Offers

I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room—I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful—awful beyond all—but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!

—Charles Bukowski

…Always take yourself seriously… it’s not the same as being pompous, or overly self-assured, but it is important to understand that the small little ideas that creep up in your mind, often contain the germ of a much larger project. All great art wasn’t born as great art. It was first needed to be recognised by the artist him/herself. Through his or her belief in it, it became true…Always spend a lot of time closely observing things, studying the surface of the world as that is always the visual point of departure.

—Wolfgang Tillmans

I just want to make a tray of good tofu. If people want something else, they should go to the restaurants and shops.

Yasujirô Ozu

Coffee glides into one’s stomach and sets all of one’s mental processes in motion. One’s ideas advance in column of route like battalions of the Grande Armée. Memories come up at the double, bearing the standards which will lead the troops into battle. The light cavalry deploys at the gallop. The artillery of logic thunders along with its supply wagons and shells. Brilliant notions join in the combat as sharpshooters. The characters don their costumes, the paper is covered with ink, the battle has started, and ends with an outpouring of black fluid like a real battlefield enveloped in swaths of black smoke from the expended gunpowder. Were it not for coffee one could not write, which is to say one could not live.

—Honoré de Balzac

Dear friends, on 9 October 2012, the Taliban shot me on the left side of my forehead. They shot my friends, too. They thought that the bullets would silence us, but they failed. And out of that silence came thousands of voices. The terrorists thought they would change my aims and stop my ambitions. But nothing changed in my life except this: weakness, fear and hopelessness died. Strength, power and courage were born.

—Malala Yousafzai

The laws of man are guarantors of order, a necessary control against the inherent greediness of our species.

Nature, on the other hand, shows ordered patterns at all scales: trees branch, and so do rivers, bodies, and arteries; tides and planetary orbits are periodic, day follows night, the seasons alternate, the moon has phases. The display of order in Nature allowed for a methodic counting and organizing as a means to gain some level of control over what was otherwise distant and unapproachable, the marching patterns of a world moving in ways beyond human reach.

Laws Of Man And Laws Of Nature

To be alive is to want to remain alive.

Does Life Have a Purpose?

If you’re going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you’re going to be locked up.

—Hunter S. Thompson

There will always be a small group of people that like the feel of the clothes more than the outward statement of fashion.

Margaret Howell

Staying quiet doesn’t mean I’ve nothing to say. It means I don’t think you’re ready to hear my thoughts.

I really feel like our whole lives, no matter how low our self esteem gets, there’s some part of us that thinks “I have a secret special skill that no one knows about.” And eventually we meet someone and they’re like, “You have a secret special skill.” And you’re like “I know, so do you. Lets eat pizza flavored ice cream together.” And that’s love; it’s a mountain of pizza flavored ice cream…and delusion.

—Matt Pandamiglio, Sleepwalk With Me (2012)