Why do people resist [engines, bridges, and cities] so? They are symbols and products of the imagination, which is the force that ensures justice and historical momentum in an imperfect world, because without imagination we would not have the wherewithal to challenge certainty, and we could never rise above ourselves.

I've imagined great victories, and I've imagined great races. The races are better.

For what can be imagined more beautiful than the sight of a perfectly just city rejoicing in justice alone.

There's something about rushing water that I can watch for hours and feel as if I need to do nothing more. It's alive in a way that's greater than any description of it.

Perhaps passing through the gates of death is like passing quietly through the gate in a pasture fence. On the other side, you keep walking, without the need to look back. No shock, no drama, just the lifting of a plank or two in a simple wooden gate in a clearing. Neither pain, nor floods of light, nor great voices, but just the silent crossing of a meadow.

It's a defining difference, curiosity. I've never known a stupid person who was curious, or a curious person who was stupid.

He felt as if he were paying for the privilege of music with portions of his life and body. But it was well worth it.