Alice Paul Quotes

If everyone approved, there'd be no point to it.

I told him, though, that he better be good to you. When you came along, I said I'd share you, but I told him to remember that you're my sister. I loved you first. (Riley to her sister Alice about Paul)

Alice suspected Paul couldn’t really picture his father, just like she couldn’t picture Paul when he was away. Maybe that was the case with people you wanted more than was good for you.

There will never be a new world order until women are a part of it.

Riley was quiet for a minute. She gathered her blanket all around her. "Paul always loved you, Alice. He knows I know that. I know he loves me, too. But it's different." Alice opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. "He loved me once. But I think that part is over," she said slowly. "No, it's not. It hasn't even begun." Riley took Alice's bare foot in her hand and squeezed it. "I told him, though, that he better be good to you. When you came along, I said I'd share you, but I told him to remember that you're my sister. I loved you first."

I always feel....the movement is a sort of mosaic. Each of us puts in one little stone, and then you get a great mosaic at the end.

Be patient, is very good advice, but the waiting makes me curious.

There will never be a new world order until women are a part of it." - Alice Paul

In his little speech to Alice, Humpty Dumpty sketches the future of human hopes and gives the clue to our salvation: to become masters of the words we speak, to make language answer our needs, Humpty Dumpty was a prophet, a man who spoke truths the world wasn't ready for. For all men are eggs, in a manner of speaking. We exist, but we haven't yet achieved the form that is our destiny. We are pure potential, an example of the not-yet-arrived. For man is a fallen creature--we know that from Genesis. Humpty Dumpty is also a fallen creature. He falls from his wall, and no one can put him back together again--neither his king, nor his horses, nor his men. But that is what we must all now strive to do. It is our duty as human beings to put the egg back together again.

For nine years Paul had not called her by her name. She had always been "Shorty" or "Kid" or "You" to him since she was twelve. It wasn't until her first night working as a waitress at the yacht club that Alice realized this

Modern, Historical and Fictional Examples: Helena Blavatsky, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Anandamayi Ma, Kahlil Gibran, Herman Melville, Paul Gaugin, Whoopie Goldberg, Alice Walker, Mattie Stepanek, Igor Stravinsky, Meryl Streep

It would have been easy for Theo to grow ironic. He could walk through life with a paradoxical chip on his shoulder, with skin like armor. But Alice did not want to raise a boy who looked at life askew. Alice wanted her son to greet the day with elation. She wanted to raise her boy into a wholesome man.

Once the principals in their party are seated, with those lower on the totem pole left to grumble and move on to find another table, our once-cozy booth transforms into a damp fusion of vacuous wretchedness, with the three women all complaining alternately about their wet hair/clothes and their respective distance from Talon, while the man himself is trying to maneuver his Paul Bunyan frame way too close to me.

Coincidentally the couple who had endowed it had lived in her parents’ building. They had had an eight-year-old with a pretty singing voice who drowned at a Maine summer camp. “You can’t imagine what happened,” said Sarah, but of course Rebecca could imagine. Being a boy soprano had a shorter shelf life than being a supermodel. She could almost see it as Sarah went on and on, the boy with the pale blue eyes, insensible to the hormones coursing through his body as he stood on the stage at Alice Tully Hall. Apparently his choir director had chosen “Old Man River,” sung not in the bass range made famous by Paul Robeson, or in the dialect in which it had been written, but in a high register with crisp consonants. (To be fair to the choir director, he had never

In 1922, Alice and Foster Bailey created the Lucifer Publishing Company—now called Lucis Trust—to publish the book Initiation Human and Solar about the “ancient myth of Lucifer.” Today, Lucis Trust—located for many years on the UN grounds in New York City—works to spread information about and foster support for UN programs. “[Lucis Trust is] currently working with governments around the world,” Crone says. “The UN is one of the biggest governmental authorities on the planet disseminating New Age teachings. In fact, you can go to the UN’s website and find out who is helping to disseminate their literature. It’s Lucis Trust. It’s New Agers. Their indoctrination has never stopped. They just have different tools at their fingertips now with people like Oprah, and if you throw in Hollywood, then the whole planet is being prepared to receive this New Age lie.

For the life of us all—whether we be star or starfish—is made of four ingredients, ingredients that can be found in the recipe to Alice’s hot-milk cake. Those ingredients are earth, fire, air, and water. But as Theo walked down the snowy vein of Cockle Cove Road and into the arctic air that surrounded the sea, he sensed that fifth element, which poets and religions and pregnant women and jazz musicians point to—that fifth element of spirit. He sensed that fifth ingredient with the cat. Surely, she is knowing. Surely, she has a soul. As the snowflakes dropped onto his pea coat, Theo thought that this was not only the snow descending upon the mantel of his coat, but the sacred ephemerals that he, like Ahanu and Reverend Cummings, believed ran through all living things. It was the fifth element of which the great masters—Moses, Socrates, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, and Big Thunder—spoke. The Sacral Spirit. We were put on this magical planet, not to dominate and consume her, but to care for her and love her. To harrow gently. To harvest gratefully. To build reasonably.

And how many boyfriends have you had, Alice?” “Mama,” Paul growled under his breath. “Let the girl eat.” “Can you pass the biscuits?” Andy said. “These are great. So tasty. Fluffy. Just the right amount of…” He frowned at the one in his hand, “…dough.” “It’s okay,” Alice said. She loved those two for trying to run interference, but she knew Creole mamas. They found out the truth, whether you wanted them to or not.

Rahobot?" I looked from Ai-ling a.k.a. Alice's elfin Chinese features, to Stansfield Peter a.k.a. Pedro's stern WASP countenance, and wondered how they'd gotten on the mailing list. "Is that a Jewish outfit?

RAISING YOUR PARENTS, juvenile forum. BROADCAST HISTORY: 1936–37, Blue Network. 30m, Saturdays at 10:15 A.M. HOST: Milton Cross. CREATOR: Dan Golenpaul. PRODUCERS: Paul Wing and Alice White Benson. Children with problems, at home or at school, would write in for advice and support. These letters were discussed by a panel of children, who then rendered a verdict. Questions ranged from simple discipline to heartbreaking stories of neglect. One little girl was continually betrayed by her mother, who promised her a bicycle for passing the seventh grade, then the eighth grade. When the child saved up her own money, the mother “borrowed” it and never paid it back.

her recommendation—Henry James’s The Turn of the Screw, freshly annotated; Alice Munro’s Open Secrets; Denis Johnson’s Resuscitation of a Hanged Man; Katherine Dunn’s Geek Love; Paul Auster’s The New York Trilogy—and the sight of each made her sigh.

Alice and Humpty-Dumpty’s differing uses of glory illustrate the difference between what Saussure called langue and parole, or language and speech. “Langue refers to the system of rules and conventions which is independent of, and pre-exists, individual users; parole refers to its use in particular instances.”28 The question that follows is whether parole is limited to langue or whether it has the capacity to transform langue. The importance of this question will be recognizable in our examination of the Old Testament below.

Beethoven and Paul McCartney cited dreams as the spark behind some of their musical compositions (including McCartney’s famous “Yesterday”). Some of the most recognizable sequences in film—sections of Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries, Fellini’s 8 ½, Richard Linklater’s Waking Life—are translations of the directors’ dreams. Mary Shelley credited dreams with inspiring Frankenstein; E. B. White with Stuart Little.

To conclude: time doesn’t pass. (I hope the reader is now convinced!) Well, what does pass, then? I shall argue that it is the conscious awareness of the fleeting self that changes from moment to moment. The misconception that time flows or passes can be traced back to the tacit assumption of a conserved self. It is natural for people to think that ‘they’ endure from moment to moment while the world changes because ‘time flows’. But as Alice remarked in Lewis Carroll’s story, ‘It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.’ Alice was right: ‘you’ are not the same today as you were yesterday. To be sure, there is a very strong correlation – a lot of mutual information, to get technical about it – between today’s you and yesterday’s you – a thread of information made up of memories and beliefs and desires and attitudes and other things that usually change only slowly, creating an impression of continuity. But continuity is not conservation. There are future yous correlated with (that is, observing) future states of the world, and past yous correlated with (observing) past states of the world. At each moment, the you appropriate to that world-state interprets the correlation with that state as ‘now’. It is indeed ‘now’ for ‘that you’ at ‘that time’. That’s all! The flow-of-time phenomenon reveals ‘the self’ as a slowly evolving complex pattern of stored information that can be accessed at later times and provide an informational template against which fresh perceptions can be matched. The illusion of temporal flow stems from the inevitable slight mismatches.

Dans la même collection en numérique Les Misérables Le messager d’Athènes Candide L’Etranger Rhinocéros Antigone Le père Goriot La Peste Balzac et la petite tailleuse chinoise Le Roi Arthur L’Avare Pierre et Jean L’Homme qui a séduit le soleil Alcools L’Affaire Caïus La gloire de mon père L’Ordinatueur Le médecin malgré lui La rivière à l’envers - Tomek Le Journal d’Anne Frank Le monde perdu Le royaume de Kensuké Un Sac De Billes Baby-sitter blues Le fantôme de maître Guillemin Trois contes Kamo, l’agence Babel Le Garçon en pyjama rayé Les Contemplations Escadrille 80 Inconnu à cette adresse La controverse de Valladolid Les Vilains petits canards Une partie de campagne Cahier d’un retour au pays natal Dora Bruder L’Enfant et la rivière Moderato Cantabile Alice au pays des merveilles Le faucon déniché Une vie Chronique des Indiens Guayaki Je voudrais que quelqu’un m’attende quelque part La nuit de Valognes Œdipe Disparition Programmée Education européenne L’auberge rouge L’Illiade Le voyage de Monsieur Perrichon Lucrèce Borgia Paul et Virginie Ursule Mirouët Discours sur les fondements de l’inégalité L’adversaire La petite Fadette La prochaine fois Le blé en herbe Le Mystère de la Chambre Jaune Les Hauts des Hurlevent Les perses Mondo et autres histoires Vingt mille lieues sous les mers 99 francs Arria Marcella Chante Luna Emile, ou de l’éducation Histoires extraordinaires L’homme invisible La bibliothécaire La cicatrice La croix des pauvres La fille du capitaine Le Crime de l’Orient-Express Le Faucon malté Le hussard sur le toit Le Livre dont vous êtes la victime Les cinq écus de Bretagne No pasarán, le jeu Quand j’avais cinq ans je m’ai tué Si tu veux être mon amie Tristan et Iseult Une bouteille dans la mer de Gaza Cent ans de solitude Contes à l’envers Contes et nouvelles en vers Dalva Jean de Florette L’homme qui voulait être heureux L’île mystérieuse La Dame aux camélias La petite sirène La planète des singes La Religieuse 35 kilos d’espoir

I hear in the chamber above me The patter of little feet, The sound of a door that is opened, And voices soft and sweet. From my study I see in the lamplight, Descending the broad hall stair, Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, And Edith with golden hair.

It was a far cry from what happened when women first marched on Washington, the day before Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration in 1913. Thousands of suffragettes trooped down Pennsylvania Avenue demanding the right to vote, including Alice Paul, Helen Keller, and Nellie Bly. Men lined the way, gawking, jeering, and eventually turning into an angry mob. The police did nothing, and scores of marchers were injured. The violence drew the nation’s attention to the suffragette cause. The superintendent of police was fired. Congress held hearings. And seven years later, the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution was ratified, granting women the right to vote.

and the title of the picture was ‘The Deserted Garden.’ Alice had often said that it was one of the few pictures that she had ever really liked and I suppose somebody must have repeated the remark to Paul. The result was that Paul, who had painted the picture, gave it to Alice. Nothing is happening in the picture, but much has already happened and in it there is the promise, or the threat, of the future. The plaster peels from the walls, the glass is broken in the Gothic window, the green shutter falls forward. But nothing happens; the final decay of that window and of the garden beyond is not yet. It may be that the house will be restored, that the rank grass will be mown, that the flower-pot which lies on its side will be righted and the plant it contains will flourish.

Paul mi posa un bacio sulla fronte. Dubito che andrà con loro, ma poi sento che si avvicina alla porta e li segue fuori. Non so perché il fatto di ritrovarmi sola mi sorprenda, visto che è sempre stato così: Claire mi porta via tutti quelli che amo

Dovrei sentirmi in colpa, ma non è così. Paul non mi sfiora da mesi, e non ho fatto niente di male. Io e Edward siamo in buoni rapporti, tutto qui. È solo il ricordo di altri tempi e di altri posti. I ricordi non possono ferire nessuno, se non vengono condivisi.