I follow blogs, particularly all the main political ones - Guido Fawkes, Iain Dale, Coffee House, Paul Waugh, Iain Martin in the Wall Street Journal, and so on. And some American ones, like the Huffington Post, Gawker, Boing Boing; or Eater and Daily...
She was around ten minutes late, as a matter of fact. I didn't give a damn, though. All that crap they have in cartoons in the Saturday Evening Post and all, showing guys on street corners looking sore as hell because their dates are late - that's bu...
I was creating commitment devices of my own long before I knew what they were. So when I was a starving post-doc at Columbia University, I was deep in a publish-or-perish phase of my career. I had to write five pages a day towards papers, or I would ...
Vincent Hanna: I'm angry. I'm very angry, Ralph. You know, you can ball my wife if she wants you to. You can lounge around here on her sofa, in her ex-husband's dead-tech, post-modernistic bullshit house if you want to. But you do not get to watch my...
Denethor: My sons are spent. My line has ended. Rohan has deserted us. Theoden's betrayed me. Abandon your posts! Flee, flee for your lives! [He turns around, and Gandalf knocks him out with his staff] Gandalf: Prepare for battle!
Mark "Rent-boy" Renton: Heroin had robbed Renton of his sex drive, but now it returned with a vengeance. And as the impotence of those days faded into memory, grim desperation took hold of his sex-crazed mind. His post-junk libido, fuelled by alcohol...
Woody: Sergeant, establish a recon post downstairs. Code Red. You know what to do. Sergeant: Yes, sir! [jumps down] Sergeant: All right, men, you heard him! Code Red, repeat: we're at Code Red! Recon plan Charlie: Execute! Let's move, move, move, mov...
Jakob Elinsky: Jesus Christ! Frank Slaughtery: Yeah. Jakob Elinsky: Yeah, the New York Times says the air is bad down here. Frank Slaughtery: Well, fuck the Times... I read the Post. Frank Slaughtery: EPA says it's fine. Jakob Elinsky: Well, somebody...
The endless piles of genre fiction are the key to happiness. They’re the key to picking out the things that actually make you happy in this world instead of the things that you’re told are good for you. Ninety percent of everything you read is go...
We are betrayed by our maps of salience. They plot our narratives, identify our enemies and then coat them in distorting layer of loathing and dread. We feel that hunch - withdraw - and then conduct a post factum search for evidence that justifies it...
[Richard Bedford Bennett] was the richest Prime Minister and the only millionaire to hold office before Pierre Trudeau. His money obviously colored his thinking -- colored it true blue -- but he did not consider it a political drawback. No leader, he...
The camp offices stood in the centre, adjoining the shrine to Jupiter that held the legion’s Eagle. In the camps of the Vth Macedonica and the VIth Ferrata, these buildings were of grey stone, dressed by Gaulish masons to such smoothness that a man...
When a candidate for public office faces the voters he does not face men of sense; he faces a mob of men whose chief distinguishing mark is the fact that they are quite incapable of weighing ideas, or even of comprehending any save the most elemental...
[first lines] Narrator: With the coming of the Second World War, many eyes in imprisoned Europe turned hopefully, or desperately, toward the freedom of the Americas. Lisbon became the great embarkation point. But, not everybody could get to Lisbon di...
Brian Taylor: This is my day job. Some of you might know me as Brian or Taylor, but here I am Police Officer 2 Brian Taylor. This is where the forces of good prepare to fight the forces of evil. This is my partner, Officer Zavala. Mike Zavala: I'm on...
It was an inflexible maxim of Roman discipline that good soldier should dread his own officers far more than the enemy
No, officer, I have no idea why I'm wearing this possum costume. I called you what? OH. My bad." -Nastasya
Don't forget to wish your husband good-morning when he sets off to the office. He will feel the lack of your good-bye kiss all day.
Down in the cellar the Gestapo were licensed to practice was the Ministry of Justice called ‘heightened interrogation’. The rules had been drawn up by civilised men in warm offices and they stipulated the presence of a doctor.
No country can be well governed unless its citizens as a body keep religiously before their minds that they are the guardians of the law, and that the law officers are only the machinery for its execution, nothing more.
You sure you don't want me to bring you back something?" Her eyes moved in the direction of his office. "A hit man? Some holy water?
