First you use machines, then you wear machines, and then. . . ? Then you serve machines.
I took up writing to escape the drudgery of that every day cubicle kind of war.
These short stories are vast structures existing mostly in the subconscious of our cultural history. They will live with the reader long after the words have been translated into ideas and dreams. That's because a good short story crosses the borders of our nations and our prejudices and our beliefs. A good short story asks a question that can't be answered in simple terms. And even if we come up with some understanding, years later, while glancing out of a window, the story still has the potential to return, to alter right there in our mind and change everything.
A peasant that reads is a prince in waiting.
A man's bookcase will tell you everything you'll ever need to know about him
Our collective freedom. . . depends on our ability to defend the rights of others.
Every day that we wake up is a good day. Every breath that we take is filled with hope for a better day. Every word that we speak is a chance to change what is bad into something good.
I didn't want to make the same mistake my parents made. I didn't want my love to fade away one day like an old scar. I wanted it to burn forever.
It is this simplicity that makes the uneducated more effective than the educated when addressing popular audiences-makes them, as the poets tell us, 'charm the crowd's ears more finely. ' Educated men lay down broad general principles; uneducated men argue from common knowledge and draw obvious conclusions.
We`re putting ourselves - we`re basically double taxing made in America products. And so what we`re saying is let`s equalize this so that we`re on a level playing field, so that American-made goods and services are on a level playing field with the rest of the world.
I was just thinking of bundling up Cecily and feeding her to the ducks at Hyde Park," said Will, pushing his wet hair back and favoring Jem with a rare smile. "I could use your assistance. " "Unfortunately, you may have to delay your plans for suicide a bit longer. Gabriel Lightwood is downstairs, and I have two words for you. Two of your favorite words, at least when you put them together. " "'Utter simpleton'?" inquired Will. "'Worthless upstart'?" Jem grinned. "'Demon pox,'" he said.