Barre Quotes

The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power. You just take it.

Guys always think tears are a sign of weakness. They’re a sign of FRUSTRATION. She’s only crying so she won’t cut your throat in your sleep. So make nice and be grateful.

Men read maps better than women because only men can understand the concept of an inch equaling a hundred miles.

People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.

To expect life to treat you good is foolish as hoping a bull won't hit you because you are a vegetarian.

It can't rain all the time.

Women complain about premenstrual syndrome, but I think of it as the only time of the month that I can be myself.

Excuse the mess, but we live here.

The most out-there thing I’m saying is, ‘Don’t have babies. Don’t get married and have kids. Have a larger life than that.

There is a man, playing a violin, and the strings are the nerves in his own arm...

My dear dear lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation: that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one: Take honour from me, and my life is done: Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; In that I live and for that will I die.

We do not recognize our souls until they are in pain.

When sorrow comes, they come not single spies, but in battalions. I've allies in heaven, Jack, i've commrades in hell...say hello for me...

No one can tell, when two people walk closely together, what unconscious communication one mind may have with another

So the crow spirals down through a collapsed dream and the only sound it makes in like a concave scream.

Mediocrity is always in a rush; but whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing with consideration. For genius is nothing more nor less than doing well what anyone can do badly.

I'm not going to vacuum 'til Sears makes one you can ride on.

As a housewife, I feel that if the kids are alive when my husband gets home from work, then hey, I've done my job

And I don't believe in such a thing as "happily ever after". There's only happily every now and then. I find the hardest trick is to recognize the now-and-thens, and to bask in them when they come. Happiness is a choice we make, like how to wear our hair, or having coffee with breakfast and tea at night.

Life is just a dream on the way to death.

Sarah: "Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever...

It's not death if you refuse it... It is if you accept it.

Childhood is over when you know you’re gonna die.

Nothing is trivial.

Don't panic, because everything is probably all right, and it it's not, panicking will make it worse.

Women are cursed, and men are the proof.

perhaps love was like the mumps. If a woman came down with it after forty, it could kill her

Remember when you said "Mine?" and I said "Forever". You said "Only forver?" It's forever, now.

November 18. . . I dig musicians, I feel they have the most to offer me mentally and emotionally because they think basically along the same lines that I do; extremely creative people. Music is Life. As Captain Beefheart once said 'God is a perfect musical note.

Think of a ballet dancer at the barre. Plie, eleve, battement tendu. She is practicing, because she knows that there is no difference between practice and art. The practice is the art.

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of all children. Do you understand? Do you understand?

Everything that men have written about women should be viewed with suspicion, because they are both judge and party,’ wrote Poulain de la Barre,11 a little-known seventeenth-century feminist.

In a world that didn’t accept the word of a woman as a valid witness, Jesus chose women as witnesses for his resurrection. In a world that gave husbands power over the very lives of their wives, Paul told husbands to do the opposite—to give up their lives for their wives. In a world that saw women as biologically deformed men, monstrous even, Paul declared that men were just like women in Christ.

Anna remembered her fifth grade teacher, Mr. White, telling her that hatred wasn't the worst of emotions. If one hated, one still cared. Indifference was the most inhuman.

Fear is for the enemy. Fear and bullets.

Sometimes I dream of sleepiness, sometimes I feel like I'm alive.

Funboy: Pal, something is seriously wrong with you. The Crow: Atrocity has that effect on me.

Death, like virtue, has its degrees.

There are no boundries between good and evil where love is concerned.

…el tiempo barre con todo y las costumbres. Así, de cambio en cambio, paso a paso, van perdiendo las sociedades la cohesión, la identidad, quedan hechas unas colchas deshilachadas de retazos…

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing Christians that oppression is godly. Their God ordained some people, simply because of their sex or skin color (or both), as belonging under the power of other people.

Á l’endroit où les fleuves se jettent dans la mer, il se forme une barre difficile á franchir, et de grands remous écumeux où dansent les épaves. Entre la nuit du dehors et la lumière de la lampe, les souvenirs refluaient de l’obscurité, se heurtaient a la clarté et, tantôt immergés, tantôt apparents, montraient leurs ventres blancs et leurs dos argentés.

All changes are more or less tinged with melancholy, for what we are leaving behind is part of ourselves.

I am really here. Yet I know I am not. I am inside something that must be buried in my head. I am layers deep in my own brain.

Berharap hidup memperlakukanmu dengan baik karena kamu orang baik, itu sama konyolnya seperti berharap banteng takkan menandukmu karena kamu vegetarian

Well, I've always wanted to call my son Barr." "Like a tavern? Like a soap?" "My father's name is Barr." "Oh. And I love it!

Where the stars are scattered thinly,' quoted Barr, 'And the cold of space seeps in.

I consider myself to be apretty good judge of people...That's why I don't like any of them.

I want to see how I can exist by myself. I want to be allowed to live inside my memory.

I know why Jesus wept, motherfucker.

Life is lousy with hurt but it also shimmers with beauty.

Quiero esperar en silencio la séptima ola. Si, aquí cuentan la historia indómita de la séptima ola. Las primeras seis son previsibles y equilibradas. Se condicionan unas a otras, no deparan sorpresas. Mantienen la continuidad. Pero, !cuidado con la séptima ola¡ La séptima es imprevisible. Durante mucho tiempo pasa inadvertida, participa en el monótono proceso, se adapta a sus predecesoras. Pero a veces estalla. Siempre ella, siempre la séptima. Porque es despreocupada, inocente, rebelde, barre con todo, lo cambia todo. Para ella no existe el antes, solo el ahora. Y después todo es distinto. ¿Mejor o peor? Eso solo pueden decirlo quienes estuvieron arrastrados por ella, quienes tuvieron el coraje de enfrentarla, de dejarse cautivar...

It is well if you go in for revenge to make it as complete as possible. ("The Vengeance Of The Dead")

Instead of being a point of pride for Christians, shouldn't the historical continuity of a practice that has caused women to fare much worse than men for thousands of years caused concern? Shouldn't Christians, who are called to be different from the world, treat women differently? What if patriarchy isn't divinely ordained but is a result of human sin?

it is always the simple that produces the marvelous

Tonight, hell sends an angel bearing gifts...

Eric screams and screams and pounds his head against the wall until phantom fire trucks race across his vision. All he wants is pain. Pain and hate. Yes, hate. But never fear. Fear is for the enemy. Fear and bullets.

Deliberately, she took a long drink. It wasn't as good as she remembered, but then little was. She caught herself in that thought and was ashamed. Cynicism was okay, bitterness a pain in the neck. The hairline difference between the two was hope and humor. The cynic had both, the embittered, nothing.

Everything ok?” Charlie’s voice came from behind me. “I already said it was.” “I know, but you’re standing there holding onto that barre for dear life. I know I’m good, but I don’t think I’ve ever paralyzed a woman before.

The inside of my head is out of control. It is on fire. It is snowing. It is a wild jungle. It is an Arctic wilderness. It is everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will happen, all at once.

Ironically, complementarian theology claims it is defending a plain and natural interpretation of the Bible while really defending an interpretation that has been corrupted by our sinful human drive to dominate others and build hierarchies of power and oppression.

Sometimes for me not throwing a tantrum is what running a marathon or swimming the English Channel must be like for others of a less-challenging emotional nature...

She was forty before she realized that when she asked a man what he was thinking and he said, “Nothing,” he wasn’t lying.

I figure when my husband comes home from work, if the kids are still alive, then I've done my job.

Don’t fail through defects of temper and over-sensitiveness at moments of trial. One of the great helps to success is to be cheerful; to go to work with a full sense of life; to be determined to put hindrances out of the way; to prevail over them and to get the mastery. Above all things else, be cheerful; there is no beatitude for the despairing.

The Yale anthropologist Weston La Barre goes far as to argue that `a surprisingly good case could be made that much of culture is hallucination` and that `the whole intent and function of ritual appears to be... a group wish to hallucinate reality`.

I was floating around in the Garden of Eden, thrilled to be a human being at the Human-Be-In, knowing the world could be saved if we loved one another. I was draped in flowers, bestowed upon me by my brothers and sisters. I was laughing, loving, breathing Princess of Peace...

A breath of laughter will blow a Government out of existence in Paris much more effectually than a whiff of cannon-smoke

Like racism, patriarchy is a shapeshifter—conforming to each new era, looking as if it has always belonged.

Pain? I know pain at the molecular level... It pulls at my atoms... Sings to me in an alphabet of fear... I am the boiling man... come to break the bones of your sins, meat puppet...

My entire life, I saw myself as the beautiful damsel or the graceful maiden. I was the princess searching for her knight. But with my newfound abilities, I finally discovered that, after all this time, I was the powerful witch.

From long experience she knew that she wore her loneliness like armor. Very few people ever recognized it for what it was. To the casual observer it looked very much like arrogance. Sometimes it was.

Anna… envied Joan’s deep connection with the human race. She was a member of the club. Anna was half convinced she’d been begotten by a passing alien life-form on a human woman. It was as good an explanation as any for the sense she had of being an outsider.

Shouldn't have looked, boy...

Here dwells a snake, one thousand miles long Coiled, one thousand miles deep Eyes like candy, it has eyes like candy Hard and blue, but soft as kittens feet Out of sight or in the element of light It could be a devil, it could be an angel With spiders inside a vision from hell Its spine is a vertical scream Slow as concrete, blurred as a dream Fueled by inertia, depth, radius, and velocity, Its soul--a twisted wreckage of despair and pain And the spiders inside are just praying for rain Killing time killing time And praying for rain One thousand miles deep

I knew the problem wasn’t a lack of women leading in church history. The problem was simply that women’s leadership has been forgotten, because women’s stories throughout history have been covered up, neglected, or retold to recast women as less significant than they really were.

Hers was an evil-sounding chuckle that Anna loved. The sort of chortle Dorothy might have heard shortly before all hell broke loose in the land of Oz

I have woken up inside one of my own memories. I am really here, yet I know I am not.

We are not all in the same boat. We are in the same storm. Some of us are on superyachts. Some of us have just the one oar.

Loss is a knife, constantly cutting, but over time the blade dulls, and the cuts aren't as sharp. It's always there in the drawer, but you realize it doesn't cut as deeply anymore.

Ideas matter. Ideas that depict women as less than men influence men to treat women as less than men. Ideas that objectify women result in women being treated like objects (sex objects, mostly).

Patriarchy exists in the Bible because the Bible was written in a patriarchal world. Historically speaking, there is nothing surprising about biblical stories and passages riddled with patriarchal attitudes and actions. What is surprising is how many biblical passages and stories undermine, rather than support, patriarchy.

The great difference between voyages rests not in ships, but in the people you meet on them.

The thing women have yet to learn is nobody gives you power. You just take it.” --

Photoghraphic projects can be as short as an afternoon or as long as a lifetime.

When she finally found her way onto the Trace, the sun was rising and, with it, her spirits. The Natchez Trace Parkway, a two lane road slated, when finished to run from Nashville, Tennessee, to Natchez, Mississippi, had been the brainchild of the Ladies' Garden Clubs in the South. Besides preserving a unique part of the nations past,...the Trace would not be based on spectacular scenery but would conserve the natural and agricultural history of Mississippi.

This producer was a woman, a type I became acquainted with at the beginning of my stand-up career in Denver. I cared little for them: blondes in high heels who were so anxious to reach the professional level of the men they worshipped, fawned over, served, built up, and flattered that they would stab other women in the back. They are the ultimate weapon used by men against actual feminists who try to work in media, and they are never friends to other women, you can trust me on that.

Once, in another lifetime, there was an ocean here, and if you plant your feet in the soil you can almost feel the ancients rising and falling like the tides of old as the storm gathers strength.

In a world that is becoming increasingly virtual, the parks remain places of visceral beauty. Places where we can remember that we are but a small part of the life on this planet, and that it is a truly wonderful planet and the only one we've got.

For it must be remembered that at the time I knew quite nothing, naturally, concerning Milo Payne, the mysterious Cockney-talking Englishman with the checkered long-beaked Sherlockholmsian cap; nor of the latter’s ‘Barr-Bag,’ which was as like my own bag as one Milwaukee wienerwurst is like another; nor of Legga, the Human Spider, with her four legs and her six arms; nor of Ichabod Chang, ex-convict, and son of Dong Chang; nor of the elusive poetess, Abigail Sprigge; nor of the Great Simon, with his 2,163 pearl buttons; nor of — in short, I then knew quite nothing about anything or anybody involved in the affair of which I had now become a part, unless perchance it were my Nemesis, Sophie Kratzenschneiderwümpel — or Suing Sophie!

Patriarchy walks hand in hand with racism, and it always has. The same biblical passages used to declare black people unequal are used to declare women unfit for leadership. Patriarchy and racism are "interlocking structures of oppression" Isn't it time we get rid of both?

Although I don't know much about anything, I know that I have a story. I know that it is not over. There are shades and shadows of adventures and people and wild new places. Whatever Paris might turn out to be, and whatever Dr. Epstein is able to do, I want to be there to find out.

My definition of forgiveness is a sigh, very like a sigh of relief, on which the memory of evil is breathed out. With letting go of the memory, discontinuing the incessant replaying of pain, and instead feeling the unmitigated overness of the evil, the evildoer often looks quite different: flawed, like me, a child of God, like me. Forgiven, like me.

Thousands of persons, many of whom never darkened the door of a college, have learned to read books that most of our college graduates fear to tackle. teachers who understand this fact can help a student read the books that educated the Founding Fathers but not by explaining in lectures what the author would have said if he had been as bright as the lecturer.

As she drove the Trace, each curve revealing a scene rich with life and as picturesque as illustrations from a children's book, Anna was struck again by the beauty of the state. Over her years as a Yankee and a Westerner, she'd heard Mississippi described many ways. Beautiful had never been one of them.

Ironically, complementarian theology claims it is defending a plain and natural interpretation of the Bible while really defending an interpretation that has been corrupted by our sinful human drive to dominate others and build hierarchies of power and oppression. I can’t think of anything less Christlike than hierarchies like these.

Time is a random thing. It is the thing that makes us older. Humans use it to organize the world. They have invented a system to try to make order from randomness. The other humans, all of them but me, live their lives by hours and minutes and days and seconds, but those things are nothing. The universe would laugh at our attempts to organize it, if it could be bothered to notice them. Time is the thing that makes our bodies shrivel and decay. That is why people are scared of it.

It is in Genesis 3:16 (God speaking to the woman) where we first see hierarchy in human relationships. . . . Hierarchy was not God’s will for the first pair, but it was imposed when they chose to disregard his command and eat the forbidden fruit. . . . Adam would now be subject to his source (the ground), even as Eve was now subject to her source (Adam). This was the moment of the birth of patriarchy. As a result of their sin, the man was now the master over the woman, and the ground was now master over the man, contrary to God’s original intention in creation.34 Patriarchy wasn’t what God wanted; patriarchy was a result of human sin.

I regularly tell our seminary students that if I happen to visit the church in which one of them serves, I will not ask first, “Is this man a good preacher?” Rather, first of all I will ask the secretaries, office staff, janitors, and cleaners what it is like to work for this pastor. I will ask, “What kind of man is he? Is he a servant? Is he demanding and harsh, or his he patient, kind, and forbearing as a man in authority?” One of our graduates may preach great sermons, but if he is a pain to work for, then you know he will cause major problems in any congregation. Leaders in the church are required by Scripture to set an example in the areas of love, kindness, gentleness, patience, and forbearance before they are appointed to preach, teach, and rule. If we obediently require these attitudes and character traits of our leaders, what will our “new community” look like

In the course of my life I have had pre-pubescent ballerinas; emaciated duchesses, dolorous and forever tired, melomaniac and morphine-sodden; bankers' wives with eyes hollower than those of suburban streetwalkers; music-hall chorus girls who tip creosote into their Roederer when getting drunk... I have even had the awkward androgynes, the unsexed dishes of the day of the *tables d'hote* of Montmartre. Like any vulgar follower of fashion, like any member of the herd, I have made love to bony and improbably slender little girls, frightened and macabre, spiced with carbolic and peppered with chlorotic make-up. Like an imbecile, I have believed in the mouths of prey and sacrificial victims. Like a simpleton, I have believed in the large lewd eyes of a ragged heap of sickly little creatures: alcoholic and cynical shop girls and whores. The profundity of their eyes and the mystery of their mouths... the jewellers of some and the manicurists of others furnish them with *eaux de toilette*, with soaps and rouges. And Fanny the etheromaniac, rising every morning for a measured dose of cola and coca, does not put ether only on her handkerchief. It is all fakery and self-advertisement - *truquage and battage*, as their vile argot has it. Their phosphorescent rottenness, their emaciated fervour, their Lesbian blight, their shop-sign vices set up to arouse their clients, to excite the perversity of young and old men alike in the sickness of perverse tastes! All of it can sparkle and catch fire only at the hour when the gas is lit in the corridors of the music-halls and the crude nickel-plated decor of the bars. Beneath the cerise three-ply collars of the night-prowlers, as beneath the bulging silks of the cyclist, the whole seductive display of passionate pallor, of knowing depravity, of exhausted and sensual anaemia - all the charm of spicy flowers celebrated in the writings of Paul Bourget and Maurice Barres - is nothing but a role carefully learned and rehearsed a hundred times over. It is a chapter of the MANCHON DE FRANCINE read over and over again, swotted up and acted out by ingenious barnstormers, fully conscious of the squalid salacity of the male of the species, and knowledgeable in the means of starting up the broken-down engines of their customers. To think that I also have loved these maleficent and sick little beasts, these fake Primaveras, these discounted Jocondes, the whole hundred-franc stock-in-trade of Leonardos and Botticellis from the workshops of painters and the drinking-dens of aesthetes, these flowers mounted on a brass thread in Montparnasse and Levallois-Perret! And the odious and tiresome travesty - the corsetted torso slapped on top of heron's legs, painful to behold, the ugly features primed by boulevard boxes, the fake Dresden of Nina Grandiere retouched from a medicine bottle, complaining and spectral at the same time - of Mademoiselle Guilbert and her long black gloves!... Have I now had enough of the horror of this nightmare! How have I been able to tolerate it for so long? The fact is that I was then ignorant even of the nature of my sickness. It was latent in me, like a fire smouldering beneath the ashes. I have cherished it since... perhaps since early childhood, for it must always have been in me, although I did not know it!