Knowledge Hunter


Category: Books

The Maypole of Merry Mount by Nathaniel Hawthorne

  • Come; a chorus now, rich with the old mirth of Merry England, and the wilder glee of this fresh forest; and then a dance, to show the youthful pair what life is made of, and how airily they should go through it!
  • “[…] O, Edith, this is our golden time! Tarnish it not by any pensive shadow of the mind; for it may be that nothing of futurity will be brighter than the mere remembrance of what is now passing.”
    “That was the very thought that saddened me! How came it in your mind too?” […] And besides, dear Edgar, I struggle as with a dream, and fancy that these shapes of our jovial friends are visionary, and their mirth unreal, and that we are no true Lord and Lady of May. What is the mystery in my heart?”
  • The young deemed themselves happy. The elder spirits, if they knew that mirth was but the counterfeit of happiness, yet followed the false shadow wilfully, because at least her garments glittered brightest. Sworn triflers of a lifetime, they would not venture among the sober truths of life not even to be truly blest.
  • There they stood, pale, downcast, and apprehensive. Yet there was an air of mutual support, and of pure affection, seeking aid and giving it, that showed them to be man and wife, with the sanction of a priest upon their love.
  • “We are not wont to show an idle courtesy to that sex, which requireth the stricter discipline. What sayest thou, maid? Shall thy silken bridegroom suffer thy share of the penalty, besides his own?”
    “Be it death,” said Edith, “and lay it all on me”

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin

  • “Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?”
    “That is the only time a man can be brave.”
  • If you would take man’s life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words.
  • Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.
  • “The things I do for love,” he said with loathing.
  • Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it.
  • Let them see that their words can cut you, and you’ll never be free of the mockery. if they want to give you a name, take it, make it your own. Then they can’t hurt you with it anymore.
  • You have a wildness in you, child. ‘The wolf blood,’ my father used to call it.
  • It’s so beautiful here, I don’t want to think about everything dying.
  • And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things.
  • … grief can derange even the strongest and most disciplined of minds.
  • What sort of man would proclaim himself a coward?
  • The world was full of cravens who pretended to be heroes; it took a queer sort of courage to admit to cowardice as Samwell Tarly had.
  • Love is sweet but it cannot change a man’s nature.
  • Let me speak, and let my truth or falsehood be judged openly, in the sight of gods and men.
  • Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow.
  • It was queer how sometimes a child’s innocent eyes can see things that grown men are blind to.
  • The Dothraki believe the stars were horses made of fire, a great herd that galloped across the sky by night.
  • Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth.
  • Laughter is poison to fear.
  • Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty.
  • What is honor compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms. . . or the memory of a brother’s smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great story, and our great tragedy.
  • A craven can be as brave as any man, when there is nothing to fear. And we all do our duty, when there is no cost to it. How easy it seems then, to walk the path of honor. Yet soon or late in every man’s life comes a day when it is not easy, a day when he must choose.
  • Choosing. . . it has always hurt. And always will.
  • Tyrion wondered whether this was the last sunrise he would ever see. . . and whether wondering was a mark of cowardice.
  • No matter what he did, Jon felt as though he were betraying someone.

Rules of Project Mayhem

The first rule of Project Mayhem is you don’t ask questions.

The second rule of Project Mayhem is you don’t ask questions.

The third rule in Project Mayhem is no excuses.

The fourth rule is no lies.

And the fifth rule about Project Mayhem is you have to trust Tyler.


Committees: Arson, Assault, Mischief, Misinformation


Application to Project Mayhem

Bringing the required items does not guarantee admission to training, but no applicant will be considered unless he arrives equipped with the following items and exactly five hundred dollars cash for personal burial money.

This money must always be carried in the student’s shoe so if the student is killed, his death will not be a burden on Project Mayhem.
In addition, the applicant has to arrive with the following:

Two black shirts.
Two black pair of trousers.
One pair of heavy black shoes.
Two pairs of black socks and two pair of plain underwear.
One heavy black coat.
This includes the clothes the applicant has on his back.
One white towel.
One army surplus cot mattress.
One white plastic mixing bowl.

Rules of Fight Club

The first rule of fight club is you don’t talk about fight club.

The second rule of fight club is you don’t talk about fight club.

Two men per fight.

One fight at a time.

No shoes, no shirt.

Fights go on as long they have to.

And the seventh rule is if this is your first night at the fight club, you have to fight.

Nobody should be the center of fight club except the two men fighting.


[Last rule is the new rule.]

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

  • Look up into the stars and you’re gone.
  • One minute was enough. A person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
  • All her life she never saw a dead person. There was no real sense of life because she had nothing to contrast it with.
  • Then you’re trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own , now they own you.
  • Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer. Maybe self-destruction is the answer.
  • Cancer will be like that. There will be mistakes, and maybe the point is not to forget the rest of yourself if one little part might go bad.
  • There are a lot of things we don’t want to know about the people we love.
  • I’m breaking my attachment to physical power and possessions because only through destroying myself can I discover the greater power of my spirit.
  •      “What you have to consider,” he says, “is the possibility that God doesn’t like you.
         Could be, God hates us. This is not the worst thing that can happen.”
         How Tyler saw it was that getting God’s attention for being bad was better than getting no attention at all. Maybe because God’s hate is better than His indifference.
         If you could be either God’s worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose?
         We are God’s middle children, according to Tyler Durden, with no special place in history and no special attention.
         Unless we get God’s attention, we have no hope of damnation or redemption.
         Which is worse, hell or nothing?
         Only if we’re caught and punished can we be saved.
         “Burn the Louvre,” the mechanic says, “and wipe your ass with the Mona Lisa. This way at least, God would know our names.”
         The lower you fall, the higher you’ll fly. The farther you run, the more God wants you back.
  • We want you, not your money. As long as you’re at fight club, you’re not how much money you’ve got in the bank. You’re not your job. You’re not your family, and you’re not who you tell yourself. You’re not your name. You’re not your problems. You’re not your age. You are not your hopes.
  • We don’t have a great war in our generation, or a great depression, but we do, we have a great war of the spirit. We have a great revolution against the culture. The great depression is our lives. We have a spiritual depression.
  • We have to show these men and women freedom by enslaving them, and show them courage by frightening them.
  • Only in death will we have our own names since only in death are we no longer part of the effort. In death we become heroes.
  • That old saying, about how you always kill the thing you love, well, it works both ways.
  • We’re not special.
    We’re not crap or trash, either.
    We just are.
    We just are, and what happens just happens.

The Time Keeper by Mitch Albom

  • Man rarely knows his own power.
  • Soon man will count all his days, and then smaller segments of the day, and then smaller still — until the counting consumes him, and the wonder of the world he has been given is lost.
  • that holding on to things “will only break your heart”
  • He was doing what man does when left with nothing.
    He was telling his own life story.
  • It is never too late or too soon. It is when it is supposed to be.
  • “Only God can write the end of your story.”
    “God has left me alone,” Dor said.
    The old man shook his head. “You were never alone.”
  • Sometimes, when you are not getting the love you want, giving makes you think you will.
  • But a man who can take everything will find most things unsatisfying.
  • A heart weighs more when it splits in two; it crashes in the chest like a broken plane.
  • And when hope is gone, time is punishment.
  • When we are most alone is when we embrace another’s loneliness.
  • But hurting ourselves to inflict pain on others is just another cry to be loved.
  • “I would have given my life.”
    “Would you have taken it?”
    “No, child,” he said. “That is not ours to do.”
  • “I mad such a fool of myself,” she lamented.
    “Love does not make you a fool.”
    “He didn’t love me back.”
    “That does not make you a fool, either.”
    “Just tell me. . .” Her voice cracked. “When does it stop hurting?”
    “Sometimes never.”
  • With endless time, nothing is special. With no loss or sacrifice, we can’t appreciate what we have.
  • “There is a reason God limits our days.”
    “To make each one precious.”
  • When you are measuring life, you are not living it.

Letters To A Young Poet by Rainier Maria Rilke

[translated by Stephen Mitchell]

  • This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write?
  • A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity.
  • Accept that answer, just as it is given to you, without trying to interpret it.
  • Then take that destiny upon yourself, and bear it, its burden and its greatness, without ever asking what reward might come from outside.
  • […] bit of advice: to keep growing, silently and earnestly, through your whole development; you couldn’t disturb it any more violently than by looking outside and waiting for outside answers to questions that only your innermost feeling, in your quietest hour, can perhaps answer.
  • For ultimately, and precisely in the deepest and most important matters, we are unspeakably alone.
  • Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism.
  • Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened.
  • Everything is gestation and birthing.
  • Patience is everything.
  • And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
  • Bodily delight is a sensory experience, not any different from pure looking or pure feeling with which a beautiful fruit fills the tongue; it is a great, an infinite learning that is given to us, a knowledge of the world, the fullness and the splendor of all knowledge. And it is not our acceptance of it that is bad; what is bad is that most people misuse this learning and squander it and apply it as a stimulant on the tired places of their lives and as a distraction rather than as a way of gathering themselves for their highest moments.
  • Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you.
  • But believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
  • If there is nothing you can share with other people, try to be close to Things; they will not abandon you; and the winds that move through the trees and across many lands; everything in the world of Things and animals is still filled with happening, which you can take part in.

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Your Laughter by Pablo Neruda

Deprive me of bread, if you want,
deprive me of air, but
don’t deprive me of your laughter.

Don’t deprive me of the rose,
the stick you thresh the grains with,
the water splashing
swiftly in your joy,
the sudden silver wave
born in you.

My struggle is painful. As I return
with my eyes sometimes tired
from watching
the unchanging earth,
your laughter enters
and raises to heaven
in search of me,
to open all the doors of life.

My loved one, in the darkest hour,
unsheath your laughter,
and if suddenly
you see my blood staining
the cobblestones,
laugh, for your laughter
will be for my hands
like an unsullied sword.

Near the sea in autumn,
your laughter must rise
in its cascade of foam,
and in spring, my love,
I want your laughter
to be like the flower I anticipated,
the blue flower, the rose
of my resonant homeland.

Laugh at the night,
at the last day, at the moon,
laugh at the twisted
streets of the island,
laugh at this clumsy
young man who loves you.
Yet when I open my eyes
and close them,
when my steps go,
when my steps return,
deny me bread, air,
light, spring,
but never your laughter
for I would die.

I Ask For Silence by Pablo Neruda

Now they leave me in peace.
Now they grow used to my absence.

I am going to close my eyes.

I wish for five things only,
five chosen touchstones.

One is perpetual love.

The second is to see the autumn.
I cannot exist without leaves
flying and falling to earth.

The third is the solemn winter,
the rain I loved, the caress
of fire in the rough cold.

Fourthly, the summer,
plump as a watermelon.

And, fifth, your eyes.
Matilda, my dear love,
I will not sleep without your eyes.
I will not exist but in your gaze.
I adjust the spring
for you to follow me with your eyes.

That, friends, is the sum of my wanting.
Next to nothing, close to everything.

Now they may go if they wish.

I have lived so much that someday
they will have to forget me forcibly,
rubbing me off the blackboard.
My heart was inexhaustible.

But because I ask for silence,
never think I am going to die.
The opposite is true.
It happens I am going to live –

to be, and to go on being.

I will not be, however, if, inside me,
the crop does not keep sprouting,
the shoots first, breaking through the earth
to reach the light;
but the mothering earth is dark,
and, deep inside me, I am dark.
I am a well in the water of which
the night leaves stars behind
and goes on alone across fields.

It’s a question of having lived so much
that I wish to live that much more.

I never felt my voice so clear,
never have been so rich in kisses.

Now, as always, it is early.
The shifting light is a swarm of bees.

Let me alone with the day.
I ask leave to be born.