Being asked to describe what 'post-racial' means is a bit like being asked to describe a leprechaun, cold fusion or unicorns: we know what is meant, but, if we are willing to be honest, we also know that none of the four describe something real, something tangible, something true.
I asked my vet what kind of dog he'd get. He told me, 'I'd get a Chihuahua, because when it died, I wouldn't care.
Dear Lord, I've been asked, nay commanded, to thank Thee for the Christmas turkey before us. . . a turkey which was no doubt a lively, intelligent bird. . . a social being. . . capable of actual affection. . . nuzzling its young with almost human- like compassion. Anyway, it's dead and we're gonna eat it. Please give our respects to its family.
When the President was asked about global warming at a public appearance yesterday, he responded by talking about America's addiction to oil. You make the connection.
I never asked for stimulus.
Every single day, I get asked by people to do the face, so Im bringing it along with me now for the rest of my life.
I remember so well the day that you came into my life. You asked for my name, you had the most beautiful smile.
I asked God to help me understand the story of the forest and what it means to be a tree in that story.
Why one writes is a question I can answer easily, having so often asked it of myself. I believe one writes because one has to create a world in which one can live. I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me — the world of my parents, the world of war, the world of politics. I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and recreate myself when destroyed by living. That, I believe, is the reason for every work of art.
At That Moment, it seemed the whole world cared what happened to him. All those people were hugging him and petting his hair. Everybody asked if he was okay. It seemed that moment would last forever. That you had to risk your life to get love. You had to get right to the edge of death to ever be saved.
I predict, not because I know, but because I'm asked.
If anyone else asked that question, O He Who Is Terrible and Great, I would have said they were an ignorant fool; in you it is a sign of the disarming simplicity which is the fount of all virtue.
If a person asked my advice, before undertaking a long voyage, my answer would depend upon his possessing a decided taste for some branch of knowledge, which could by this means be advanced. No doubt it is a high satisfaction to behold various countries and the many races of mankind, but the pleasures gained at the time do not counterbalance the evils.
There's no higher honor, in my estimation, than being asked to serve in the White House.
[When asked how many husbands she'd had:] Two of my own, my dear, and several of my friends'.
Man is asked to make of himself what he is supposed to become to fulfill his destiny.
Is that a yes?" he asked, pushing his fingers through my hair, fanning it out around my shoulders and searching my face intently. "Please let it be yes," he said with a gravelly edge. "Stay with me tonight. Let me hold you, even if that's all it is. Let me keep you safe.
What would a man of God say, who felt aright, when Joseph asked him for his money? He would say, 'Yes, and I wish I had more to help to build up the Kingdom of God. ' Or if he came and said 'I want your wife?' 'O Yes,' he would say, 'here she is, there are plenty more. '. . . Did the Prophet Joseph want every man's wife he asked for? He did not. . . If such a man of God should come to me and say, 'I want your gold and silver, or your wives,' I should say, 'Here they are, I wish I had more to give you, take all I have got. '
She asked him to come and see her that night. He agreed, in order to get away, knowing that he was incapable of going. But that night, in his burning bed, he understood that he had to go see her, even if he were not capable. He got dressed by feel, listening in the dark to his brother's calm breathing, the dry cough of his father in the next room, the asthma of the hens in the courtyard, the buzz of the mosquitoes, the beating of his heart, and the inordinate bustle of a world that he had not noticed until then, and he went out in the sleeping street.
I looked over at him. "Is that a proposal?" There was total silence for a couple beats. "I'm not sure. It just popped out. " "Let me know when you're sure. " "Would you say yes?" Morelli asked. "I'm not sure.