The look of a smug teacher is priceless.
For your own security it’s imperative you blend in with the native population.
Who I am now is who I was before. The three years between, they were the aberration. You wouldn't recognize the person I became during that lost time. I barely do.
Why couldn't he see the tragedy of what was unfolding? Was it because it was too painful, or was it because holding onto hope and dying was better than living if it meant you were forced to see the world for what it was?
That is the difference between great men and small, we great are willing to do the hard things, the uncomfortable things to ensure we succeed.
Not another word, not another thought, not another sniffle. If you need to pass gas, I pray you'll clench your backside and keep walking until we are certainly alone.
So shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless and don't be sorry
We may say that all ages are dangerous to all people, in this dangerous life we live. But the thirties are a specially dangerous time for women. They have outlived the shyness and restraints of girlhood, and not attained to the caution and discretion...
If you want to keep your dignity intact, stay away from tequila.
Nothing conceivable is so petty, so insipid, so crowded with paltry interests, in one word, so anti-poetic, as the life of a man in the United States.
The happy and powerful do not go into exile, and there are no surer guarantees of equality among men than poverty and misfortune.
Forget the garden rake. Remember that time you dived over the desk at that guy in moot court? Had him by the throat in two seconds flat, that's what I heard." "You heard wrong." "And they suspended you for how long?" Antonia innocently asked. "A day....
Brastias. My friend.” Uh-oh, this couldn’t be good. “Do you lie to me?” “Uh . . . no.” “See? That’s a lie!
I was lost a long time, without knowing it. Without the Faith, one is free, and that is a pleasant feeling at first. There are no questions of conscience, no constraints, except the constraints of custom, convention and the law, and these are flexibl...
Miracles... seem to me to rest not so much upon... healing power coming suddenly near us from afar but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that, for a moment, our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there around us always.
Literature is that neuter, that composite, that oblique into which every subject escapes, the trap where all identity is lost, beginning with the very identity of the body that writes.
What the poet has to say to the torso of the supposed Apollo, however, is more than a note on an excursion to the antiquities collection. The author's point is not that the thing depicts an extinct god who might be of interest to the humanistically e...
Serving time doesn't make you fit to do anything but serve more time.
… Get up against that wall now – let’s see your face against the tiles.” Your voice is little more than a growl and the instruction takes a moment to register. You push me up against the tiles, holding my hands behind my back.
I don't believe in miracles, only unexplained facts.
Each of us can walk only the path he sees at his own feet. Each of us is subject to the consequences of his own belief.
