Once A Year Quotes (page 4)
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What’s with her?” says the painter.
“She’s mad because she’s a woman,” Jon says. This is something I haven’t heard for years, not since high school. Once it was a shaming thing to say, and crushing to have it said about you, by a man. It implied oddness, deformity, sexual malfunction.
I go to the living room doorway. “I’m not mad because I’m a woman,” I say. “I’m mad because you’re an asshole.
Margaret Atwood
The a hermit , who visited the city once a year , came forth and said, speak to us of pleasure. Go to your fields and your gardens , and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower. But it is also the plesure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee . For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life , And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love , And to both bee and flower , the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
Khalil Gibran
Some years ago I was struck by the large number of falsehoods that I had accepted as true in my childhood, and by the highly doubtful nature of the whole edifice that I had subsequently based on them. I realized that it was necessary, once in the course of my life, to demolish everything completely and start again right from the foundations if I wanted to establish anything at all in the sciences that was stable and likely to last.
Rene Descartes
You should not take old people who are already dead seriously. It does them injustice. We immortals do not like things to be taken seriously. We like joking. Seriousness, young man, is an accident of time. It consists, I don't mind telling you in confidence, in putting too high a value on time. I, too, once put too high a value on time. For that reason I wished to be a hundred years old. In eternity, however, there is no time, you see. Eternity is a mere moment, just long enough for a joke.
Herman Hesse
I had also, during many years, followed a golden rule, namely that whenever published fact, a new observation of thought came across me, which was opposed to my general results, to make a memorandum of it without fail and at once; for I had found by experience that such facts and thoughts were far more apt to escape from the memory than favourable ones.
Charles Darwin
I look at the mountain, which is still doing its tricks, as you look at a still-beautiful face belonging to a person who was once your lover in another country years ago: with fond nostalgia, and recognition, but no real feeling save a secret astonishment that you are now strangers. Thanks. For the memories.
Annie Dillard
I like to call a spade a spade in politics and in everything else. That's why the zionists and the americans...The top officials hate Saddam Hussein.The White House is lying once again. He's a liar.He's the world's number one liar.He said there were chemical weapons in Iraq, and that Iraq is connected with terrorism.Later he declared: 'We didn't find any of this in Iraq.'What I want to say is that he also declared that what Saddam Hussein says is not true...This is defamation of your...
Saddam Hussein
So many things were testing his faith. There was the Bible, of course, but the Bible was a book, and so were Bleak House, Treasure Island, Ethan Frome and The Last of the Mohicans. Did it then seem probable, as he had once overheard Dunbar ask, that the answers to riddles of creation would be supplied by people too ignorant to understand the mechanics of rainfall? Had Almighty God, in all His infinite wisdom, really been afraid that men six thousand years ago would succeed in building a tower...
Joseph Heller
And when your wife is not the same person you fell in love with eight years ago, where exactly does that leave you? Do you try to get to know who she has become, and hope for the best? Or do you keep deceiving yourself in the hope that she might wake up one morning and have gone back to the woman she used to be? May be, Caleb thinks with a small shock, he isn't the same person he once was, either.
Jodi Picoult
With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can’t start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It’s like quicksand … hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she...
Sylvia Plath