A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost.
Books were only one type of receptacle where we started a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical about them at all. The magic is only with what books say, how they stiched the patches of the universe together into one garment.
Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451).
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
Walt Whitman (Song of Myself).
You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view…until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.
Atticus (Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird).
Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others the sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watched turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the the life of men. Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.
Zora Neale Hurston (Their Eyes Were Watching God).
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief.
William Shakespeare (Hamlet).
Complete happiness can look so much like complete terror that it’s hard to tell them apart.
Carol Plum-Ucci (What Happened To Lani Garver).
Living fire begets cold, impotent ash.
Chinua Achebe (Things Fall Apart).
And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about.
John Steinbeck (East of Eden). 
A man’s heart is a wretched, wretched thing, Mariam. It isn’t like a mother’s womb. It won’t bleed, it won’t stretch to make room for you.
- Nana (Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns).
I wonder that religion can live or die on the strength of a faint, stirring breeze. The scent trail shifts, causing the predator to miss the pounce. One god draws in the breath of life and rises; another god expires.
Barbara Kingsolver (The Poisonwood Bible).
Sleep - those little slices of death, how I loathe them.
- Edgar Allen Poe

“People say, ‘I’m going to sleep now,’ as if it were nothing. But it’s really a bizarre activity. ‘For the next several hours, while the sun is gone, I’m going to become unconscious, temporarily losing command over everything I know and understand. When the sun returns, I will resume my life.
If you didn’t know what sleep was, and you had only seen it in a science fiction movie, you would think it was weird and tell all your friends about the movie you’d seen.

They had these people, you know? And they would walk around all day and be OK? And then, once a day, usually after dark, they would lie down on these special platforms and become unconscious. They would stop functioning almost completely, except deep in their minds they would have adventures and experiences that were completely impossible in real life. As they lay there, completely vulnerable to their enemies, their only movements were to occasionally shift from one position to another; or, if one of the ‘mind adventures’ got too real, they would sit up and scream and be glad they weren’t unconscious anymore. Then they would drink a lot of coffee.’

So, next time you see someone sleeping, make believe you’re in a science fiction movie. And whisper, ‘The creature is regenerating itself.”

George Carlin.
I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don’t know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
Patrick Bateman (Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho).
I feel close to my own body, I can feel my blood moving, my skin and my fingernails, everything, it’s like I’m full of electricity and I’m glowing in the dark — I’m on fire almost — I’m burning away into nothing — but it doesn’t matter because I know exactly who I am.
Tim O’Brien (The Things They Carried).