About author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: russian
- Born: March 31, 1809
- Died: March 4, 1852
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Those of us who write and study history are accustomed to its approximations and ambiguities. This is why we do not take literally the tenth-hand reports of frightened and illiterate peasants who claim to have seen miracles or to have had encounters with messiahs and prophets and redeemers who were, like them, mere humans. And this is also why we will never submit to dictation from those who display a fanatical belief in certainty and revelation.
Christopher Hitchens
Knock! knock!
who's there?
me!
me who?
that's right?
what's right?
meehoo!
that's what I want to know!
what's what you want to know?
me who?
yes, exactly!
exactly what?
yes, I have exactlywatt on a chain!
exactly what on a chain?
yes!
yes what?
no, exactlywatt!
that's what I want to know!
I told you-exactlywatt!
exactly what?
yes!
yes what?
yes it's with me.
what's with you?
exactlywatt-that's what with me.
me who?
yes!
go away!
knock knock...
Shel Silverstein
Surrender your own poverty and acknowledge your nothingness to the Lord. Whether you understand it or not, God loves you, is present in you, lives in you, dwells in you, calls you, saves you and offers you an understanding and compassion which are like nothing you have ever found in a book or heard in a sermon.
Thomas Merton
«“Everybody is in trouble with my dad. My dad only sort of gets the Internet. My dad started looking up all his old enemies on Facebook. My dad picks big flamewar fights. It’s like my dad just discovered that people can talk about politics without his permission. Facebook is like his new drug, he’s getting all sweaty and manic... Farfalla, is Facebook the work of the Devil? Google is ‘not evil,’ but nobody ever said that Facebook was ‘not evil.’”»
Bruce Sterling
Far away, I could hear them lapping up my brains. Like Macbeth's witches, the three lithe cats surrounded my broken head, slurping up that thick soup inside. The tips of their rough tongues licked the soft folds of my mind. And with each lick my consciousness flickered like a flame and faded away.
Haruki Murakami