People have told me that everything about me, every facet of my life, psyche, experiences, dreams, and fears, are laid out explicitly in my writing, that from the corpus of my work I can be absolutely and precisely inferred. This is true.
Philip Kindred - a.k.a. PKD Dick
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Thus the man who is responsive to artistic stimuli reacts to the reality of dreams as does the philosopher to the reality of existence; he observes closely, and he enjoys his observation: for it is out of these images that he interprets life, out of these processes that he trains himself for life. It is not only pleasant and agreeable images that he experiences with such universal understanding: the serious, the gloomy, the sad and the profound, the sudden restraints, the mockeries of chance, fearful expectations, in short the whole 'divine comedy' of life, the Inferno included, passes before him, not only as a shadow-play — for he too lives and suffers through these scenes — and yet also not without that fleeting sense of illusion; and perhaps many, like myself, can remember calling out to themselves in encouragement, amid the perils and terrors of the dream, and with success: 'It is a dream! I want to dream on!' Just as I have often been told of people who have been able to continue one and the same dream over three and more successive nights: facts which clearly show that our innermost being, our common foundation, experiences dreams with profound pleasure and joyful necessity.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Antonio dreams of owning the land he works on, he dreams that his sweat is paid for with justice and truth, he dreams that there is a school to cure ignorance and medicine to scare away death, he dreams of having electricity in his home and that his table is full, he dreams that his country is free and that this is the result of its people governing themselves, and he dreams that he is at peace with himself and with the world. He dreams that he must fight to obtain this dream, he dreams that there must be death in order to gain life. Antonio dreams and then he awakens…. Now he knows what to do and he sees his wife crouching by the fire, hears his son crying. He looks at the sun rising in the East, and, smiling, grabs his machete. The wind picks up, he rises and walks to meet others. Something has told him that his dream is that of many and he goes to find them.
Subcomandante Marcos
Follow your heart, follow your dreams. If writing is your passion, put everything you have into it. Let that passion, that joy, lead you. In the end it might not lead you to exactly the place you thought you were heading...but it will absolutely lead you someplace wonderful. And don’t let the Nay-Sayers, the Practical People, stop you or wear you down. Follow your dreams...and you can’t go wrong.
J. M. DeMatteis
Our winner [of BEST Persons], the one and only William Kristol, still of The New York Times. His latest gem, after the Supreme Court struck down the Military Commissions Act and restored the Writ of Habeus Corpus to even the detainees at Gitmo: "The decision was wrong and our fears about the Administration's attack on the great writ are overblown, because American citizens have a right to Habeus Corpus, and anyone arrested in this country has a right to Habeus Corpus." Sadly, no! That's the problem! The Military Commissions Act specifically said there was to be no Habeus Corpus for non-citizens, even if they were arrested in this country. More importantly, Bill, if, under the Act, or whatever monstrosity McCain is backing to replace the Act, if they arrested you, William Kristol, and declared you a non-citizen and an enemy combatant, and you say, "But I was born in New York City," exactly where do you think you'll be able to prove that and get yourself released? At a court hearing — a court hearing that would never happen because there would be no Habeus Corpus, because the government said you weren't born in New York City, and your response would never - even - be - heard.
William Bill Kristol
I am a fictionalizing philosopher, not a novelist; my novel & story-writing ability is employed as a means to formulate my perception. The core of my writing is not art but truth. Thus what I tell is the truth, yet I can do nothing to alleviate it, either by deed or explanation. Yet this seems somehow to help a certain kind of sensitive troubled person, for whom I speak. I think I understand the common ingredient in those whom my writing helps: they cannot or will not blunt their own intimations about the irrational, mysterious nature of reality, & for them, my corpus of writing is one long ratiocination regarding this inexplicable reality, an investigation & presentation, analysis & response & personal history. My audience will always be limited to those people.
Philip Kindred - a.k.a. PKD Dick
Dick, Philip Kindred - a.k.a. PKD
Dicke, Robert H.
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