I'm a hopeless 19th-century romantic.
Now, I meant to talk about something else earlier on, and I've forgotten what it was. I've remembered what it is again, but I've also forgotten. And that's really what adult life is like most of the time.
People will kill you over time, and how they'll kill you is with tiny, harmless phrases, like 'be realistic. '
You're talking to a modern, nice, affable German person and they're saying to you something like 'You know, vell, it's a critical time now for Germany within Europe, also globally, economically ve are pretty good, ve have been better. But ve are very vibrant in the theater and arts. . . ' and all the time you'll be listening to this, you're thinking Mmm, yeah, mmm. . . Hitler, Hitler, Hitler, Hitler, Hitler.
You've a very important, early decision to make in your life: are you going to be alone, or are you going to be with somebody else? Are you going to be sane, or not lonely? A couple is a strange thing; it's an organism that's half as intelligent as the most intelligent member. And you both know who it is.
Everybody does that now. We all take pics. . . you do the same with holiday photos. You record something to look back on it, even though you’re not really there when you’re taking the picture ‘cause you’re too busy recording it - so you retrospectively go to look back on where you weren’t and tell yourself you had a good time.
You’re not really an adult at all. You’re just a tall child holding a beer, having a conversation you don’t understand.
The laws should be rigidly enforced which prohibit the immigration of a servile class to compete with American labor, with no intention of acquiring citizenship, and bringing with them and retaining habits and customs repugnant to our civilization.
More than a decade after our fellow citizens began bedding down on the sidewalks, their problems continue to seem so intractable that we have begun to do psychologically what government has been incapable of doing programmatically. We bring the numbers down--not by solving the problem, but by deciding it's their own damn fault.
Testing her sexuality, she thinks she's caught a beautiful fish, when in reality, she's netted a shark.
But will you miss me? More importantly - will I miss you? Does either one of us really want to hear the answer to that question?