Absence Of Malice Quotes

One doesn’t have to operate with great malice to do great harm. The absence of empathy and understanding are sufficient. In fact, a man convinced of his virtue even in the midst of his vice is the worst kind of man.

Yes, they mean well, but the only good that an absence of malice guarantees is a clear conscience.

YOU MUSTN'T BE AFRAID OF DEATH you're a deathless soul you can't be kept in a dark grave you're filled with God's glow be happy with your beloved you can't find any better the world will shimmer because of the diamond you hold when your heart is immersed in this blissful love you can easily endure any bitter face around in the absence of malice there is nothing but happiness and good times don't dwell in sorrow my friend ghazal number 2594

Intimacy cannot be expressed discursively. The swelling to the bursting point, the malice that breaks out with clenched teeth and weeps; the sinking feeling that doesn't know where it comes from or what it's about; the fear that sings its head off in the dark; the white-eyed pallor, the sweet sadness, the rage and the vomiting...are so many evasions. What is intimate, in the strong sense, is what has the passion of an absence of individuality, the imperceptible sonority of a river, the empty limpidity of the sky

I was like Robinson Crusoe on the island of Tobago. For hours at a stretch I would lie in the sun doing nothing, thinking of nothing. To keep the mind empty is a feat, a very healthful feat too. To be silent the whole day long, see no newspaper, hear no radio, listen to no gossip, be thoroughly and completely lazy, thoroughly and completely indifferent to the fate of the world is the finest medicine a man can give himself. The book-learning gradually dribbles away; problems melt and dissolve; ties are gently severed; thinking, when you deign to indulge in it, becomes very primitive; the body becomes a new and wonderful instrument; you look at plants or stones or fish with different eyes; you wonder what people are struggling to accomplish with their frenzied activities; you know there is a war on but you haven't the faintest idea what it's about or why people should enjoy killing one another; you look at a place like Albania—it was constantly staring me in the eyes—and you say to yourself, yesterday it was Greek, to-day it's Italian, to-morrow it may be German or Japanese, and you let it be anything it chooses to be. When you're right with yourself it doesn't matter which flag is flying over your head or who owns what or whether you speak English or Monongahela. The absence of newspapers, the absence of news about what men are doing in different parts of the world to make life more livable or unlivable is the greatest single boon. If we could just eliminate newspapers a great advance would be made, I am sure of it. Newspapers engender lies, hatred, greed, envy, suspicion, fear, malice. We don't need the truth as it is dished up to us in the daily papers. We need peace and solitude and idleness. If we could all go on strike and honestly disavow all interest in what our neighbor is doing we might get a new lease on life. We might learn to do without telephones and radios and newspapers, without machines of any kind, without factories, without mills, without mines, without explosives, without battleships, without politicians, without lawyers, without canned goods, without gadgets, without razor blades even or cellophane or cigarettes or money. This is a pipe dream, I know.

If you wish to leave, there is nothing, to my knowledge, to stop you,’ said Jerott. ‘Well, that’s good news,’ said Marthe, with final and unanswerable malice. ‘I thought you needed the gold in my saddle.’ Deferentially, Salablanca’s voice broached Jerott’s silence. ‘La señorita has known that the gold has been concealed in that place?’ ‘La señorita,’ said Marthe coldly, ‘in the absence of offers, has been saddling and unsaddling that damned horse like a coal-heaver for three days since you sewed the coins in the lining. It was hardly likely the weight would fail to attract my attention.’ Which left Jerott wondering, gloomily, which it was Lymond had miscalculated so severely: Marthe’s native intelligence, or the chivalry of her masculine escort: himself.

Uncharles, in human populations there is seldom a uniformity of knowledge. Based on existing information I estimate that forty-five percent were unaware of the situation or considered it fake, owing to the precisely curated news sources that they limited themselves to, whilst a further thirty percent were aware but did not consider it their problem and twenty percent were aware and actively cheering on the fact or profiting from shorting elements of the neighbouring economy. A final five percent seem likely to have been directly and deliberately contributing to the collapse of their neighbour, either through reasons of malice or because they believed that in the absence of that competition their own interests would prosper. Whilst low as a proportion, I estimate this final category wielded a disproportionate amount of influence.

He displayed his ignorance, his rash temper, his pettiness and pique, his malice and cruelty, his utter absence of empathy, his narcissism, his transgressive personality, his disloyalty, his sense of victimhood, his addiction to television, his suspicion and silencing of experts, and his deception and lies.

There were so many words I buried within the silence that he placed before me, so many confessions that were placated into the rumble of this deep, unforgiving quiet. I colored the canvas with absence, with brushstroke upon perfected brushstroke of merciless malice. The very spaces where I had once lettered my softer passions. I didn't tell him when my hair smelled of mountain gooseberry and magnolia, I didn't invite him to the seduction of open hair, so that he could lay drowned in my tangles. I didn't tell him about the rain-clouds. I didn't tell him about the lost birds of summer.

arguing for a new trial, Hamilton highlighted the principle at stake, the protection of a free press: “The liberty of the press consists, in my idea, in publishing the truth from good motives and for justifiable ends, [even] though it reflect on the government, on magistrates, or individuals.”18 As a victim of repeated press abuse, Hamilton did not endorse a completely unfettered press: “I consider this spirit of abuse and calumny as the pest of society. I know the best of men are not exempt from attacks of slander. . . . Drops of water in long and continued succession will wear out adamant.”19 Hence the importance of truth, fairness, and absence of malice in reportage.

What is Truth (The Sonnet) There is not one but two truths, truth of facts and truth of good. Truth of facts is worth the honor, when it serves the truth of good. Truth of facts thrives on logic, an effective antidote to prejudice. Where it sucks the sweetness of life, truth of facts is carrier of malice. Truth of facts is carrier of logic, Truth of good is carrier of life. Often times they cohabit the mind, sometimes facts only undermine life. Pride of truth is the good it does, without which all facts are futile. Truth of good is truth absolute, absence of heart makes logic vile.