Jon Fosse, Svevn (Sleep)


(When I'm old(er) I'm gunna be as kick ass as Maggie Smith and as laid-back as this woman.)

Soon after six o'clock the five hobbits were ready to start. Fatty Bolger was still yawning. They stole quietly out of the house. Merry went in front leading a laden pony, and took his way along a path that went through a spinney behind the house, and then cut across several fields. The leaves of trees were glistening, and every twig was dripping; the grass was grey with cold dew. Everything was still, and far-away noises seemed near and clear: fowls chattering in a yard, someone closing a door of a distant house.

In their shed they found the ponies; sturdy little beasts of the kind loved by hobbits, not speedy, but good for a long days work. They mounted, and soon they were riding off into the mist, which seemed to open reluctantly before them and close forbiddingly behind them. After riding for about an hour, slowly and without talking, they saw the Hedge looming suddenly ahead. It was tall and netted over with silver cobwebs.

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of The Rings - The Fellowship of The Ring

We live in a world made up more of story than stuff. We are creatures of memory more than reminders, of love more than likes. Being attentive to the needs of others might not be the point of life, but it is the work of life. It can be messy, and painful, and almost impossibly difficult. But it is not something we give. It is what we get in exchange for having to die.

- Jonathan Safran Foer

eric idle


I'm often asked about what I think about as I run. Usually the people who ask this has never run long distances themselves. I always ponder the question. What exactly do I think about when I'm runnning? I don't have a clue.

On cold days I guess I think a little about how cold it is. And about the heat on hot days. When I'm sad I think a little about sadness. When I'm happy I think a little about happyness. As I mentioned before, random memories come to me too. And occasionally, hardly ever, really, I get an Idea to use in a novel. But really as I run, I don't think much of anything worth mentioning.

I just run. I run in a void. Or maybe I should put it the other way: I run in order to aquire a void. But as you might expect, an occational thought will slip into this void. People's mind can't be a complete blank. Human beings' emotions are not strong or consistent enough to suastain a vacuum. What I mean is, the kinds and thoughts and ideas that invade my emotions as I run remain subordinate to that void. Lacking content, they are just random thoughts that gather around that central void.

The thoughts that occur to me while I'm running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky as always. The clouds are mere guests in the sky that pass away and vanish, leaving behind the sky. The sky both exists and doesn't exist. It has substance and at the same time doesn't. And we merely accept that vast expanse and drink it in.

Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running
If I wanted to know, for example, how many stars where in the milky way, how old those giant heads on Easter Island were, most of you could find that out right now, without even standing up. And yet if I've learnt anything for nearly twelve years now dragging heavy things around cold places, it that true, real inspiration and growth only comes from adversity and challenge, from stepping away from what is comfortable and familiar, and stepping out 


the unknown.