"From the time Cézanne first left Aix, at the age of twenty-two, Louis-Auguste [Cézanne's father] paid his bills, even when Cézanne gave every indication of being nothing more than a failed dilettante. But for Zola, Cézanne would have remained an unhappy banker's son in Provence; but for Pissarro, he would never have learned how to paint; but for Vollard (at the urging of Pissarro, Renoir, Degas, and Monet), his canvases would have rotted away in some attic; and, but for his father, Cézanne's long apprenticeship would have been a financial impossibility. That is an extraordinary list of patrons. The first three—Zola, Pissarro, and Vollard—would have been famous even if Cézanne never existed, and the fourth was an unusually gifted entrepreneur who left Cézanne four hundred thousand francs when he died. Cézanne didn't just have help. He had a dream team in his corner. This is the final lesson...success is highly contingent on the efforts of others."
~Malcolm Gladwell


"Identity is fluid because it changes according to the social context of the individual. Just as identity defines relationships, the nature of the set of social interactions in a person's life is what makes up that person's identity. Personal identity is composed essentially of social routines and protocols rather than personal characteristics. The question "who am I?" is answered ultimately not by looking within, but by taking into account the facts of relationships and actions."
~Michael Webb

"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself."
~Abraham Maslow

"It's not who I am underneath, but what I *do* that defines me."
~The Batman


"It's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. I don't know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind. I wish I believed, as J. B. Priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while. Three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around. Perhaps that's why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it! A 'bad night' is not always a bad thing."
~Brian W. Aldiss