We celebrated each moment of our meetings as a revelation alone in all the world. You were lighter and bolder than the wing of a bird flying down the stairs two at a time… pure giddiness, leading me through the moist lilac to your domain beyond the looking glass. When night fell, I was favored. The altar gates were opened and in the dark, there gleamed your nudity, and I slowly bowed. Awakening, ‘Be blessed,’ I said and know my blessing to be bold for you still slept. The lilac on the table stretched forth to touch your lids with heavenly blue and your blue-tinted lids were calm, and your hand was warm. Locked in crystal, rivers pulsed, mountains smoked, seas glimmered. You held a sphere of crystal in your hand and slept on a throne. And– righteous Lord!– you were mine. You awakened and transformed our mundane, human words. Then did my throat fill with new power and give new meaning to ‘you’ which now meant ‘sovereign.’ All was transformed, even such simple things as basin, pitcher, when like a sentinel, layered, solid water lay between us. We were drawn on and on where cities built by magic parted us like mirages. Mint carpeted our way, birds escorted us, and fish swam upstream while the sky spread out before us as Fate followed in our wake like a madman brandishing a razor.
Andrei Tarkovsky, The Mirror (1975)
Nash: Thank you. I’ve always believed in numbers and the equations and logics that lead to reason.
But after a lifetime of such pursuits, I ask,
“What truly is logic?”
“Who decides reason?”
My quest has taken me through the physical, the metaphysical, the delusional — and back.
And I have made the most important discovery of my career, the most important discovery of my life: It is only in the mysterious equations of love that any logic or reasons can be found.
I’m only here tonight because of you [his wife, Alicia].
You are the reason I am.
You are all my reasons.
John Nash: 1994 Nobel Prize, A Beautiful Mind (2002)
I can see them now, exactly as they looked, working about the table in the lamplight: Jake with his heavy features, so rudely moulded that his face seemed, somehow, unfinished; Otto with his half-ear and the savage scar that made his upper lip curl so ferociously under his twisted moustache. As I remember them, what unprotected faces they were; their very roughness and violence made them defenceless. These boys had no practised manner behind which they could retreat and hold people at a distance. They had only their hard fists to batter at the world with. Otto was already one of those drifting, case-hardened labourers who never marry or have children of their own. Yet he was so fond of children!
Willa Cather, My Antonia
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further… And one fine morning –
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
Francis Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby