Them Quotes (page 619)
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This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justification. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god.
Cormac McCarthy
To discover the rules of society that are best suited to nations, there would need to exist a superior intelligence, who could understand the passions of men without feeling any of them, who had no affinity with our nature but knew it to the full, whose happiness was independent of ours, but who would nevertheless make our happiness his concern, who would be content to wait in the fullness of time for a distant glory, and to labour in one age to enjoy the fruits in another. Gods would be...
Jean-Jacques Rousseau
If indeed it's a race. Then the chicks do the most. It isn't a brag. Or an estrogen boast. It's the women who've led me. With big open hearts. If not for their love. I'd have failed at the start. And it's not just the mothers. I speak of them ALLIt's a woman there first When somebody falls. The multi of tasking. That's easy to tease. I dare a great man. To try it all, PLEASE! So this is my shout out. My rallying cry. To women all over. I hold you up high. And though there are others. Who'll...
Jamie Lee Curtis
Beautiful things grow to a certain height and then they fail and fade off, breathing out memories as they decay. And just as any period decays in our minds, the things of that period should decay too, and in that way they're preserved for a while in the few hearts like mine that react to them. Trying to preserve a century by keeping its relics up to date is like keeping a dying man alive by stimulants.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
My knowledge of Mr. Forster’s works is limited to one novel which I dislike; and anyway it was not he who fathered that trite little whimsy about characters getting out of hand; it is as old as the quills, although of course one sympathizes with his people if they try to wriggle out of that trip to India or whereever he takes them. My characters are galley slaves.
Vladimir Nabokov
