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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 18a2e95 | We need to highlight the role women play in perpetuating and sustaining patriarchal culture so that we will recognize patriarchy as a system women and men support equally, even if men receive more rewards from that system. Dismantling and changing patriarchal culture is work that men and women must do together. | Bell Hooks | ||
| b411e15 | Chasing a burning girl down a city street is a lot harder than it sounds. Civilians tend to stop and stare and this turns them into human bowling pins. Slow whiny bowling pins. | Richard Kadrey | ||
| e81ad14 | Nate handed it over the expert, and Waschbar examined it in turn, finally concluding with a low whistle. "No, not a diamond. It's a star." "A star?" the fairies chorused. "Yer cryin' th' stars from yer eyes." Nate's hands on the reins tightened as he added, "Fer Ariel." | Lisa Mantchev | ||
| 92e34c6 | Poems, even when narrative, do not resemble stories. All stories are about battles, of one kind or another, which end in victory or defeat. Everything moves towards the end, when the outcome will be known. Poems, regardless of any outcome, cross the battlefields, tending the wounded, listening to the wild monologues of the triumphant or the fearful. They bring a kind of peace. Not by anaesthesia or easy reassurance, but by recognition and t.. | prose stories | John Berger | |
| 6cabcb0 | and men of science,' cries dixon, 'may be but the simple tools of others, with no more idea of what they are about, than a hammer knows of a house. | thomas pynchon | ||
| 083236e | Man, I want to die, is all,' cried Ploy. 'Don't you know,' said Dahoud, 'that life is the most precious possession you have?' 'Ho, ho,' said Ploy through his tears. 'Why?' 'Because,' said Dahoud, 'without it, you'd be dead. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 553e1c9 | Displaced Person's Song If you see a train this evening, Far away, against the sky, Lie down in your woolen blanket, Sleep and let the train go by. Trains have called us, every midnight, From a thousand miles away, Trains that pass through empty cities, Trains that have no place to stay. No one drives the locomotive, No one tends the staring light, Trains have never needed riders, Trains belong to bitter night. Railway stations stand desert.. | train war | Thomas Pynchon | |
| adcc84c | Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.... Another mode of meaning behind the obvious, or none. Either Oedipa in the orbiting of a true paranoia, or a real Tristero. For there either was some Tristero beyond the appearance of the legacy of America, or there was just America and if there was just America then it seemed the only wa[y] she could continue, and manage to be at all relevant.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| cde8e21 | Yeah, actually, gamers in the house forever. | gamers gamers-in-the-house-forever gaming | Thomas Pynchon | |
| d0bbd62 | Lovely morning, World War Two. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 090f861 | As the day light left the city that night, the streetlamps were not up to anything like their usual candle-power. It was difficult to make anything out clearly. Ordinary social restraints were apt to be defective or not there at all. The screaming that went on all night, ignored as background murmur during the day, now, absent the clamor of street traffic, had taken on urgency and despair - a chorale of pain just about to pass from its real.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| b8c8238 | But a few choosing to venture deeper into the painful corridors of their affliction, found after a while that they could now grind and polish ever more exotic surfaces, hyperboloidial and even stranger, eventually including what we must term 'imaginary' shapes (which some preferred to term invisible). | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| f7d8baf | In the trenches of the First World War, English men came to love one another decently, without shame or make-believe, under the easy likelihoods of their sudden deaths, and to find in the faces of other young men evidence of otherworldly visits, some poor hope that may have helped redeem even mud, shit, the decaying pieces of human meat... It was the end of the world, it was total revolution (though not quite in the way Walter Rathenau had .. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| f446462 | Culture attracts the worst impulses of the moneyed, it has no honor, it begs to be suburbanized and corrupted. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| e809c78 | It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 201c010 | This seemed to be happening more and more lately out in Greater Los Angeles, among gatherings of carefree youth and happy dopers, where Doc had begun to notice older men, there and not there, rigid, unsmiling, that he knew he'd seen before, not the faces necessarily but a defiant posture, an unwillingness to blur out, like everyone else at the psychedelic events of those days, beyond official envelopes of skin. Like the operatives who'd dra.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| d2dec01 | Times of great idealism carry equal chances for greater corruptibility. | idealism | Thomas Pynchon | |
| 7f3486f | These times are unfriendly toward Worlds alternative to this one | diagnosis possibility worlds | Thomas Pynchon | |
| c0bba78 | A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 0e40ab4 | The Line makes itself felt,-- thro' some Energy unknown, ever are we haunted by that Edge so precise, so near. In the Dark, one never knows. Of course I am seeking the Warrior Path, imagining myself as heroick Scout. We all feel it Looming, even when we're awake, out there ahead someplace, the way you come to feel a River or Creek ahead, before anything else,-- sound, sky, vegetation,-- may have announced it. Perhaps 'tis the very deep sub-.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| d6bf541 | Some would say eccentric. I would say stoned out of his fuckin mind, nothing personal. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 7e6be7b | Chotto, Kenichiro! Dozo, motto panukeiku. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| fd9eef3 | Surely for as long as there have been nights as bad as this one---something to raise the possibility of another night that could actually, with love and cockcrows, light the path home, banish the Adversary, destroy the boundaries between our lands our bodies, our stories, all false, about who we are: for the one night, leaving only the clear way home and the memory of the infant you saw, almost too frail, there's too much shit in these stre.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| dc72887 | Yet at least he had believed in the cars, maybe to excess: how could he not, seeing people poorer than him come in, Negro, Mexican, cracker, a parade seven days a week, bring with them the most godawful of trade-ins: motorized, metal extensions of themselves, of their families and what their whole lives must be like, out there so naked for anybody, a stranger like himself, to look at, frame cockeyed, rusty underneath, fender repainted in a .. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 8fb9b70 | a million bureaucrats are diligently plotting death and some of them even know it... | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| e394a13 | And one cried wee, wee, wee, all the way--" Jessica breaking down in a giggle as he reaches for the spot along her sweatered flank he knows she can't bear to be tickled in. She hunches, squirming, out of the way as he rolls past, bouncing off the back of the sofa but making a nice recovery, and by now she's ticklish all over, he can grab an ankle, elbow-- But a rocket has suddenly struck. A terrific blast quite close beyond the village: th.. | tickle | Thomas Pynchon | |
| 513d708 | No, thought Oedipa, sad. As if their home cemetery in some way still did exist, in a land where you could somehow walk, and not need the East San Narciso Freeway, and bones still could rest in peace, nourishing ghosts of dandelions, no one to plow them up. As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 06003fd | You need to find true love, Doc." Actually, he thought, I'll settle for finding my way through this. His fingers, with a mind of their own, began to creep toward the plastic hedge. Maybe if he searched through it long enough, late enough into the night, he'd find something that might help --- some tiny forgotten scrap of his life he didn't even know was missing, something that would make all the difference now." -- | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 365d5b6 | Somewhere beyond the battening, urged sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across all the dark beige hills, somehow implicit in an arrogance or bite to the smog the more inland somnolence of San Narciso did lack, lurked the sea, the unimaginable Pacific, the one to which all surfers, beach pads, sewage disposal schemes, tourist incursions, sunned homosexuality, chartered fishing are irrelevant, the hole left by the moon'.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| e06cd2b | For that moment at least they seemed to give up external plans, theories, and codes, even the inescapable romantic curiosity about one another, to indulge in being simply and purely young, to share that sense of the world's affliction, that outgoing sorrow at the spectacle of Our Human Condition which anyone this age regards as reward or gratuity for having survived adolescence. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| c5483e2 | Reclaimed by the small-time day-to-day, pretending life is Back To Normal, wrapping herself shivering against contingency's winter in some threadbare blanket of first-quarter expenses, school committees, cable-bill irregularities, a workday jittering with low-life fantasies for which "fraud" is often too elegant a term, upstairs neighbors to whom bathtub caulking is an alien concept, symptoms upper-respiratory and lower-intestinal, all in t.. | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| d31b7c1 | Down the toilet, lookit me, What a silly thing ta do! | Thomas Pynchon | ||
| 4ddbd5b | you've got to learn to walk through a pigpen and not get dirty. | Madeleine L'Engle | ||
| 0a0775b | A winter ago I had an after-school seminar for high-school students and in one of the early sessions Una, a brilliant fifteen-year-old, a born writer who came to Harlem from Panama five years ago, and only then discovered the conflict between races, asked me, "Mrs. Franklin, do you really and truly believe in God with no doubts at all?" "Oh, Una, I really and truly believe in God with all kinds of doubts." But I base my life on this belief... | Madeleine L'Engle | ||
| 6be6ea3 | If we all knew each morning that there was going to be another morning, and on and on and on, we's tend not to notice the sunrise, or hear the birds, or the waves rolling into the shore. We'd tend not to treasure our time with the people we love. Simply the awareness that our mortal lives had a beginning and will have an end enhances the quality of our living. Perhaps it's even more intense when we know that the termination of the body is n.. | death life mortality | Madeleine L'Engle | |
| a9a6b7d | If we are to be aware of life while we are living it, we must have the courage to relinquish our hard-earned control of ourselves. | bravery control courage life life-and-living relinquish-control | Madeleine L'Engle | |
| f0a7b33 | Thou cannot harm a butterfly, without troubling a star. | Madeleine L'Engle | ||
| 50270eb | We cannot always cry at the right time and who is to say which time is right? | madeleine-l-engle poetry right-time | Madeleine L'Engle | |
| d45dbd6 | I am encouraged as I look at some of those who have listened to their "different drum": Einstein was hopeless at school math and commented wryly on his inadequacy in human relations. Winston Churchill was an abysmal failure in his early school years. Byron, that revolutionary student, had to compensate for a club foot; Demosthenes for a stutter; and Homer was blind. Socrates couldn't manage his wife, and infuriated his countrymen. And what .. | education | Madeleine L'Engle | |
| c0493e9 | Church always seemed the same. Jess could tune it out the same way he tuned out school, with his body standing up and sitting down in unison with the rest of the congregation but his mind numb and floating, not really thinking or dreaming but at least free. | Katherine Paterson | ||
| 9d3a9f0 | I could not think of anything but his fingers on my neck, his thumb on my lips. | Tracy Chevalier | ||
| a3cea48 | swf tmwt y jwnthn, swf tmwt, n lm ykn lan fqryban. knt Hytk klh khT', lqd 'fsdt Hytk klh, Hytk hdhh lty tzlzlh Hmm@ | Patrick Süskind | ||
| 84d8ed0 | the most important rule of survival, which was that feeling sorry for yourself didn't work. | Gary Paulsen | ||
| 8720b2b | Her eyes, walnut brown and shaded by fanned lashes, met mine. Held for a moment. Flew away. | Khaled Hosseini |