Welcome to Indigo, a literary reading room where tenderness meets uncertainty and every line leaves a little light behind. Here, indigo is more than a colour: it is the hush after a long day, the blue hour between decision and desire, the page we return to when the world grows loud.
Read with us through the language of chance, the theatre of the casino, the ache of ambition, and the strange, private weather of success.
Passages from published works, kept close to their original source.
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Source notes accompany each passage. When a direct, verifiable link is unavailable, the citation is shown as a reference rather than a clickable link.
“Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.”
Ba’zan omad kutilmagan paytda kulib boqadi. Xuddi hayotdagi kabi, onlayn o‘yinlarda ham natijani oldindan bilib bo‘lmaydi. Shu sababli, bunday platformalar bilan qiziqayotganlar Mostbet haqida batafsil ma’lumot olishi, foydalanish shartlari bilan tanishishi va o‘yinlarga mas’uliyat bilan yondashishi mumkin.
“Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, / Which we ascribe to heaven.”
“The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.”
“Every man of ambition has to fight his century with its own weapons.”
“I think that in practical life there is something about success, actual success, that is a little unscrupulous, something about ambition that is scrupulous always.”
“The god of this century is wealth.”
“All the world's a stage, / And all the men and women merely players.”
“There is the same world for all of us, and good and evil, sin and innocence, go through it hand in hand.”
“I have long ago made up my mind, that never should I depart from Roulettenberg until some radical, some final, change had taken place in my fortunes.”
“For why is gambling a whit worse than any other method of acquiring money? How, for instance, is it worse than trade?”
“Mere luck!”
“She took three cards. She won with the first; doubled her stake on the second, and won again; doubled on the third, and still won.”
“That fellow never made a bet or touched a card in his life, and yet he watches us playing until five o'clock in the morning.”
“Look, love, what envious streaks / Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.”
“Life is simply a 'mauvais quart d'heure' made up of exquisite moments.”
“Luck is not chance—
It's Toil—
Fortune's expensive smile
Is earned—
The Father of the Mine
Is that old-fashioned Coin
We spurned—”
“These things I wondering saw beneath the sun:
That never yet the race was to the swift,
The fight unto the mightiest to lift,
Nor favors unto men whose skill had done
Great works, nor riches ever unto one
Wise man of understanding. All is drift
Of time and chance, and none may stay or sift
Or know the end of that which is begun.
Who waits until the wind shall silent keep,
Will never find the ready hour to sow.
Who watcheth clouds will have no time to reap.
At daydawn plant thy seed, and be not slow
At night. God doth not slumber take nor sleep
Which seed shall prosper thou canst never know.”
“If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’”
“There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat,
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.”
“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
“Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.”
“Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.”
“All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.”
Beneath the velvet of the night,
Where silver dreams compete with light,
A thousand hands, a thousand names,
All gathered round the wheel of flames.
The cards are dealt, the dice are cast,
Each breath a wager with the past.
A golden promise, dark and deep,
A secret every heart must keep.
For Fortune wears no crown of gold,
Nor favors young, nor spares the old.
She turns her face, she shifts her gaze,
And sets the world ablaze with praise.
Some lose their kingdoms for a dream,
Some find their fortunes in the stream
Of passing hours, of chances small,
Of doors unnoticed in the wall.
Yet luck is not the final word,
Nor fate a song that must be heard.
Beyond the cards, beyond the game,
A human heart remains the same.
So let the wheel spin through the night,
Let shadows dance with borrowed light.
For wealth may vanish, stars may fall,
But those who dare to live risk all.
And when the final cards are shown,
When every borrowed coin has flown,
May we discover, standing tall,
That life itself was worth it all.
Indigo is an independent-minded collection for readers drawn to the delicate edge between hope and risk. We gather lines from poems, plays, novels and essays, with the author and work credited beside each passage. We do not ask literature to promise a win. We ask it to tell the truth about wanting, waiting, choosing, and beginning again.
Four doors into the archive
Choose a theme to explore related lines from the journal.
Blue hours, inward worlds, solitude, beauty and the language of night.
Explore the collectionFortune, fate, coincidence and the moment before a choice.
Explore the collectionTemptation, uncertainty and the choices people make when the stakes feel high.
Explore related quotationsEndurance, achievement and the many meanings of a life well lived.
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