". . . because at the secret heart of madness, at the core of so many errors, so many absurdities, so many words and gestures without consequence, we discover, finally, the hidden perfection of a language. The ultimate language of madness is that of reason,” Foucault writes.
“But men labour under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost.” When I read it at first, I thought “Well, thanks for pointing that out but I have to work so too bad.”
Sometimes fiction stays in its pages and only comes to life when it’s read. But some fiction spreads like wildfire, well beyond the pages it’s told on and into the hearts and minds of millions.
“I’m the best auctioneer in the world, but no one knows it because I’m a different sort of man. My name is Gustavo Sanchez Sanchez, though people call me Highway, I believe with affection.”
“I think that’s the thing about fiction, that you live in it for a little while but you must forget it, sometimes totally forget it, in order to go on with the rest of your life,” Lacey writes.
“I'd watched too many schoolmates graduate into mental institutions, into group homes and jails, and I knew that locking people up was paranormal - against normal, not beside it. Locks didn't cure; they strangled.” Scott Westerfeld.
As I’ve noted on other reviews, I’m a Scott Westerfeld fan. His writing is dramatic, but not overly ornate. His plots are never drawn out and I know I’m always in for an adventure when I pick up a Westerfeld book. Leviathan was no different.
“They tell you: Follow your dreams. Listen to your spirit. Change the world. Make your mark. Find your inner voice and make it sing. Embrace failure. Dream. Dream and dream big. As a matter of fact, dream and don’t stop dreaming until your dream comes true. I think that’s crap. I think a lot of people dream. And while they are busy dreaming, the really happy people, the really successful people, the really interesting, powerful, engaged people? Are busy doing,” Shonda Rhimes