I was researching a different World War II story when I came across an article in the 'Chicago Tribune' from June 1945 that knocked me for a loop. The article explained that a military plane had crashed in an impossibly remote valley of New Guinea th...
We have but one flag, one country; let us stand together. We may differ in color, but not in sentiment. Many things have been said about me which are wrong, and which white and black persons here, who stood by me through the war, can contradict.
Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the ma...
Save your explanations, I got some questions for you first and you'd better answer them!' [slurred Hellian.] 'With what?' [Banaschar] sneered. 'Explanations?' 'No. Answers. There's a difference-' 'Really? How? What difference?' 'Explanations are what...
I think there must be probably different types of suicides. I'm not one of the self-hating ones. The type of like "I'm shit and the world'd be better off without poor me" type that says that but also imagines what everybody'll say at their funeral. I...
There is a great difference between one idler and another idler. There is someone who is an idler out of laziness and lack of character, owing to the baseness of his nature. If you like, you may take me for one of those. Then there is the other kind ...
James Conway O'Donnell: Who are you? Who's paying you? Philip 'Cockeye' Stein: I think this is gonna piss you off, Mac. I think it's those dirty politician friends of yours. James Conway O'Donnell: Yeah? Well, you crawl back and tell 'em we don't wan...
Jean Claude: Just like the old days. Bryan: Would you have it any other way? Jean Claude: Between you and me, no. But now that I sit behind a desk, the world looks different. Bryan: You mean it looks boring. Jean Claude: I mean different. Okay, a lit...
Harry Burns: [about Sally] I can say anything to her. Jess: Are you saying you can say things to her you can't say to me? Harry Burns: No, it's just different. It's a whole different perspective. I get the woman's point of view on things. She tells m...
Carter Chambers: What are you so afraid of? Edward Cole: Just because I told you my story, does not invite you to be a part of it! Carter Chambers: Oh, like the lady in the bar? Edward Cole: That's different. Carter Chambers: Tell me how it's differe...
At some point along the winding, honeysuckle-lined road of their lives, the love of a child had transformed into the love of a young woman, and the two loves had both been so natural and pure that she hadn’t noticed the difference.
May I nurture the serenity to accept the things I cannot change the courage to change the things I can change and wisdom to know the difference
Because different cultures see a particular animal as representing a certain human virtue or vice, the use of animal imagery also allows for more colorful commentary on the human condition.
We are people-trees. Our roots are hidden in Earth .The branches spread out on Heavens. The fruits are our energy. Two different energies: The positive and negative ones. The balance of both carries the progress. Article by Author Katerina Kostaki :T...
From the intellectual point of view an abyss may exist between a great mathematician and his boot maker, but from the point of view of character the difference is most often slight or non-existent
I like to compare my mental stress capacity to a dinner plate. Most people have moderate amounts of stress in their life, like a nice balanced meal. The food represents different stresses that occur in our lives, past and present.
You can obsess and obsess over how things ended—what you did wrong or could have done differently—but there's not much of a point. It's not like it'll change anything. So really, why worry?
If things had been different, she would be in Carolyn's place right now. She didn't want that sort of existence, but there was something so attractive about the security of feeling like you had stopped moving toward your life, and actually arrived.
Entire years had passed when he was rich enough in time to disregard the loose change of a minute, but now he obsessed over each one, this minute, the next minute, the one following, all of which were different terms for the same illusion.
There was something about the smell of books, the ink-and-paper-and-leather scent, the way dust in a library seemed to behave differently from the dust in any other room -- it was golden in the light of the witchlight tapers, setting like pollen acro...
I spent uncounted hours sitting at the bow looking at the water and the sky, studying each wave, different from the last, seeing how it caught the light, the air, the wind; watching patterns, the sweep of it all, and letting it take me. The sea.
