Even with, or perhaps, because of, this background, I have over the past few years sensed a very dramatic change in attitude on the part of Prince Edward Islanders towards the on-going rush for so-called modernization.
Every article on these islands has an almost personal character, which gives this simple life, where all art is unknown, something of the artistic beauty of medieval life.
I love them, they are so nice and selfish. Dogs are TOO good and unselfish. They make me feel uncomfortable. But cats are gloriously human.
People told her she hadn't changed much, in a tone which hinted they were surprised and a little disappointed she hadn't.
We are never half so interesting when we have learned that language is given us to enable us to conceal our thoughts.
After all, Betty was ill and she was her sister, and she wouldn't be able to shave her legs for weeks because of the plaster.
Galton was a world renowned anthropologist back in the nineteenth century, though he was a big overshadowed by his cousin, Charles Darwin.
Music is a wind that blows away the years, memories, and fear, that crouching animal I carry inside me.
My boyfriend likes to fuck my brains out on our kitchen island. Which tile would you recommend for that?
How many psychiatrists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” “I don’t know. How many?” “Eight.” “Why?” “Oh, stop overanalyzing it.
Queequeg was a native of Kokovoko, an island far away to the West and South. It is not down in any map; true places never are.
Music is pleasing not only because of the sound but because of the silence that is in it: without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm.
The truth is, until you know any different, the island is enough. Actually, I know different. And it's still enough.
As the sun lowered into the city's skyline, casting an orange glow over the islands, Jana could feel people's hopes rising.
The HISPANIOLA still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough, there was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from her peak.
Nul ne peut voir par-dessus soi, écrit Schopenhauer pour faire comprendre l'impossibilité d'un échange d'idées entre deux individus d'un niveau intellectuel trop différent.
The sky above the island was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel—which is to say it was a bright, cheery blue.
TV sounds are all the same; there's no difference between the sound of the wind in Northern Ireland and the wind on a Polynesian island.
I got space from Travis Air Force Base, went back to the Philippine Islands and made it a point to meet the only American casting director in the Philippines. I was off and running.
No doubt these rocky islands have suggested the idea worked out in gardens, and they have been well imitated.
In Tasmania, an island the size of Ireland whose primeval forests astonished 19th-century Europeans, an incomprehensible ecological tragedy is being played out.
