To play without passion is inexcusable!
. . . then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.
He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.
His divine spark lives within me, a presence that will never leave. And I am but one of many tools He has at His disposal. If I cannot act - if I refuse to act - that is a choice I am allowed to make. He has given me life, and all I must do to serve Him is to live. Fully and with my whole heart. With this knowledge comes a true understanding of all the gifts He has given me.
And so it is with us; we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.
There is number of different efforts around the country are to try to redesign the math pathway and the courses that students have to take to make it more applicable to the real world.
Until you have a son of your own. . . you will never know the joy, the love beyond feeling that resonates in the heart of a father as he looks upon his son.
One thing with Montreal is it's so cold and everyone's so poor and beer's so cheap: if you go to a show you have to brave the weather to get there. So you show up and everyone's soaking wet - there's a sense of 'I trekked through three feet of snow to get here!' I think there's a kind of camaraderie that arises out of that, that's important to me as well.
(From the story The Last Days of a Famous Mime) He said nothing. He was mildly annoyed at her presumption: that he had not thought this many, many times before. With perfect misunderstanding she interpreted his passivity as disdain. Wishing to hurt him, she slapped his face. Wishing to hurt her, he smiled brilliantly.