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“Throughout our emotional odyssey in the unembellished narrative of our life, we may sense many alluring voices that are enticing us into a beguiling, seamless story. Our inner monologue, however, might start raising consequential questions about the scintillation of that story, about our vulnerability during the tempting process and the danger of losing our real self. The question may be asked, whether the lure might enlighten, weaken or destroy our living. While our interior monologue mostly listens to the wisdom of our experience and the guidance of our memory, it may happen that it prefers not to listen. In that event, however, unreason and passion will be calling all the shots. ( “Woman in progressâ€� )”
― Erik Pevernagie

“The most dangerous thing about an academic education is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualize stuff, to get lost in abstract thinking instead of simply paying attention to what’s going on in front of me.
Instead of paying attention to what's going on inside me.”
― David Foster Wallace

“There is a writer within yourself that sends an inner monologue script. Listen to the script and write those monologues.”
― Aiyaz Uddin

“Damn it, Nita. If you fuck this up because of such a stupid mistake, you'll never live it down. No shit, because I'll never live.â€�
•pg.230 - Nita's inner monologue”
― Rebecca Schaeffer, Not Even Bones

“Then it occurred to me that I could walk outside and contrive to take a spill, or squeeze out the window on the rear staircase oh HmH and fall several meters to the steep embankment below, being sure to land on the bad ankle and hurt it, so I’d not have to play. That I could carefully plan out a fall from the courtsâ€� observation transom or the spectatorsâ€� gallery of whatever club C.T. and the Moms sent us to to help raise funds, and fall so carefully badly I’d take out all the ankle’s ligaments and never play again. Never have to, never get to. I could be the faultless victim of a freak accident and be knocked from the game while still on the ascendant. Becoming the object of compassionate sorrow rather than disappointed sorrow.

I couldn’t stay with this fantastic line of thought long enough to parse out whose disappointment I was willing to cripple myself to avoid (or forgo).”
― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

“Then it occurred to me that I could walk outside and contrive to take a spill, or squeeze out the window on the rear staircase oh HmH and fall several meters to the steep embankment below, being sure to land on the bad ankle and hurt it, so I’d not have to play. That I could carefully plan out a fall from the courtsâ€� observation transom or the spectatorsâ€� gallery of whatever club C.T. and the Moms sent us to to help raise funds, and fall so carefully badly I’d take out all the ankle’s ligaments and never play again. Never have to, never get to. I could be the faultless victim of a freak accident and be knocked from the game while still on the ascendant. Becoming the object of compassionate sorrow rather than disappointed sorrow.



I couldn’t stay with this fantastic line of thought long enough to parse out whose disappointment I was willing to cripple myself to avoid (or forgo).”
― David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest