A Spanish poet, Antonio Machado, once said: ‘Dijiste media verdad. Dirán que mientes dos veces si dices la otra mitad.’” “Translated means…” “You told a half-truth. They’ll say you lie twice when you tell the other half.
We can't impose our will on a system. We can listen to what the system tells us, and discover how its properties and our values can work together to bring forth something much better than could ever be produced by our will alone.
Every man in the world is either a Realist or a Nominalist. Give yourself a test: if someone called you a gigger or a fell-picker, and you knew it wasn't true, would you hit him or smile? That's how easy it is to tell.
Apple juice looks so much like urine that the only way to tell them apart is to remember that I keep my pee in the fridge, and the apple juice in the toilet. Help yourself to something to drink. Just flush if you want a refill.
I remember my first cell phone number still. I may call it and ask to speak to myself from eight years ago. If they say I have the wrong number I’ll tell them, No, right number, wrong time.
I tell people my name is “The Weather,” and that I understand how they don’t have anything else to talk about besides me. Of course they do have something else to talk about. They could always talk about the weather. But that’s boring and a l...
Maybe the most sacred function of memory is just that: to render the distinction between past, present, and future ultimately meaningless; to enable us at some level of our being to inhabit that same eternity which it is said that God himself inhabit...
I won’t tell you my name, but I will give you a number that describes me: 4. One a 1-10 scale, I love you like my numerical identity.
The sadness was I'd lost a father I had never fully found. It's like a tune that ends before you've heard it out. Your whole life through you search to catch the strain, and seek the face you've lost in strangers' faces.
Her shoes were so pink that if she stepped in bubblegum, nobody would be able to see. And my shoes were so brown that if I stepped in shit, you wouldn’t be able to tell that I had just trampled on the collected works of Allen Ginsberg.
Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. You can’t fool an old sheep like me. To prove it, I’ll tell you that I’ve been continuously voting for the same person for president for years and years, a few of them even before he died.
We’re going to go in the back room as two singles, copulate back there, and come out a couple. Somebody go tell my clone where I am so he doesn’t go file a missing person’s report on himself.
In 50 years, I’m going to tell my grandchildren, “Back when I was growing up we didn’t have teleportation devices. We actually had to walk to school. In the snow. And shoes hadn’t even been invented yet.
You're absolved," I tell him. He brings his eyes back up to mine. There's no fucking way he knows what that word means. That's a word I dream someone will say to me. So I put it in his language. "You're free.
Mankind, as history tells us over and over again, seeks the least painful solution and, as a result, ends up exchanging one problem for another
Don’t let your idea of God be limited to the imagination of others. Don’t let them define your God and don’t let them tell you how to express your faith.
What I can't understand is why the silly things you say makes so much sense." "I'll tell you why," said Papa Dima. "It's because the best idea is the idea you least expect. And the unexpected always seems silly at first.
You told me to tell the truth, and this is exactly why I didn’t want to. You want me to think I’m selfish.” “I want you to own your thoughts and actions, and not be afraid of them. Accepting your limitations is every bit as important as embra...
Maybe all Americans who suffer from melancholy act as if they have gone mad. But I truly thought he might throw himself in the river, and I don't want his ghost visiting to keep telling me he's sorry.
I did not tell Fat this, but technically he had become a Buddha. It did not seem to me like a good idea to let him know. After all, if you are a Buddha you should be able to figure it out for yourself.
After Reason had left the dining room, Valor’s mouth softened into smile. “Let us know if you have any symptoms.” “Symptoms?” I asked, and jerked my gaze to his eyes. “What kind of symptoms?” “Tell us if your fingernails turn to stone...
