A personal brand is determined by what you have created, whom you have connected, and how you have made those people feel.
Soylent Green is made out of people. So is your personal network… but let’s hope its non-toxic because you drink it every day.
Mr Baley", said Quemot, "you can't treat human emotions as though they were built about a positronic brain". "I'm not saying you can. Robotics is a deductive science and sociology an inductive one. But mathematics can be made to apply in either case.
And when I came in with tears in my eyes, you always knew whether I needed you to hold me or just let me be. I don't know how you knew, but you did, and you made it easier for me.
You made it clear you did not want to discuss the past with him. I followed through on your request.” “By beating him senseless?” Calisto looked at Tom, then back to her. “Perhaps he never had any sense to begin with.
A slow feeling of gathering sadness as each familiar place flashes by the window and disappears and becomes part of the past. Time is made visible, and it moves as the landscape moves.
Her love was like cigarette smoke stirred into coffee. I drank it so fast it made me cough, but she’s not offering a refill at any price.
We fell in love like nobody’s business. I wish it was everyone’s business, so that I could have made money off it.
I drank my lava lamp to get the party started. Later on I made love like a volcano, while I watched TV alone.
She had no legs, so I made her wear suspenders and I carried her like a backpack. True love knows no luggage.
I shed my clothes like a garage doesn’t shed—and a shed doesn’t garage. Then we made love like neighbors, so close, yet separated by several barriers.
We made love like steam meets mist. My memory is foggy, but I know I inhaled her essence like smoke.
We made love like I make grilled cheese sandwiches. I had no idea what I was doing, but she melted into me all the same.
We made love like Wednesday and Thursday, only Thursday wasn’t always on top. Her name was Yesterday, and today will always remind me of her.
We made love like green is blue. That’s because we were only half into it, though for the record I was the blue and she was the disinterested yellow.
We made love like a half a minute. I brought the thirty seconds, and she provided the excuse as to why she didn’t have enough time to have sex with me.
With the windows in his top of the range Audi firmly in place we slowly baked ourselves and chatted over why my hatred of golf was wrong, what made a good antihero and why Paul McCartney should just fuck off.
If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you've made, if they don't realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.
...Mr. Hardie had little patience with that sort of conversation."Ye're born, ye suffer, and ye die. What made ye think ye deserved different?" he wondered aloud when the deacon's gentle answers failed to quiet them.
The sad thing about miracles is that they’re unique. They can’t be explained, or shared, or duplicated. And they absolutely cannot be captured and made to perform on demand. If that day ever came, our world would die for lack of wonder.
Fear has made them sloppy. The world teeters at a precipe. All scared to take a step in case they put a foot into empty air. The instinct of self-preservation. It can destroy a man's efficiency.
