Bloomington Quotes

Mall of America in Bloomington, Minnesota.

Dream House as Utopia Bloomington: even the name is a promise. Living, unfurling, soft in your mouth.)

Memang kadang-kadang saya merasa tidak ada gunanya menantang arus umum karena toh saya bukan apa-apa. Mungkin andaikata saya berkuasa atau berwibawa besar, kata-kata saya dapat membawa pengaruh

After her mother died and Adrienne and her father took up with wanderlust, Adrienne became exposed to new foods. For two years they lived in Maine, where in the summertime they ate lobster and white corn and small wild blueberries. They moved to Iowa for Adrienne's senior year of high school and they ate pork tenderloin fixed seventeen different ways. Adrienne did her first two years of college at Indiana University in Bloomington, where she lived above a Mexican cantina, which inspired a love of tamales and anything doused with habanero sauce. Then she transferred to Vanderbilt in Nashville, where she ate the best fried chicken she'd ever had in her life. And so on, and so on. Pad thai in Bangkok, stone crabs in Palm Beach, buffalo meat in Aspen. As she sat listening to Thatcher, she realized that though she knew nothing about restaurants, at least she knew something about food.

Now that I have been here for a little while, I can say with confidence that I have never been here before.

But it prompted me to remember something, a conversation I’d overheard between Officers Bloomington and Mishin about the persecution complex that afflicts most humans, and made me wonder: Why do you feel persecuted by us? From the mild feeling of being teased without your consent all the way to the other extreme of the terror of recognition, that we might expose you for what you truly are. What use is a sense of self if all it does is make you feel that self to be constantly under siege?

That girl feels like a different girl, someone from a lifetime ago, not anyone who has anything to do with the me I am now. Except that I know I wouldn't be me without her. I wouldn't be Libby Strout, high school junior, with my very own group of friends. I wouldn't have danced or twirled or tried out for the Damsels. I wouldn't have stood up for myself or worn my purple bikini. I wouldn't have gone to Bloomington or Clara's with a boy I liked. Really liked. I wouldn't have had my heart broken because I would have been too afraid. And even though the ache of that heartbreak hurts like hell, it's so much better than feeling nothing.

If you’re black in this country you’re presumed guilty. Or, to come back to Abdel, who’s a schoolteacher and thinks a lot about children, you’re not allowed to be innocent. The eyes and heart of a nation are not avoidable things. The imagination of a country is not an avoidable thing. And the negreeting, back home, where we are mostly never seen, is a way of witnessing each other’s innocence—a way of saying, “I see your innocence.” And my brother-not-brother ignoring me in his nice red kicks? Maybe he’s going a step further. Maybe he’s imagining a world—this one a street in Bloomington, Indiana—where his unions are not based on deprivation and terror. Not a huddling together. Maybe he’s refusing the premise of our un-innocence entirely and so feels no need to negreet. And in this way proclaims our innocence. Maybe.

More often, I’d meet people like Brett Favre. Not literally like Brett Favre, in the sense that they were forty-year-old football players, but that they were people who loved Wisconsin but couldn’t find a way to make it work there, took off for NewYork, crashed and burned, and then found a home for themselves here in the City of Lakes. Minneapolis is where the drama queens and burnouts and weirdos and misfits of the rural and suburban Upper Midwest wind up. It’s a city full of people who, though they’d never say it, secretly suspect they don’t belong here, that they’re not Minneapolis enough, because they didn’t go to a city high school, or because they didn’t hang out at First Avenue when they were teenagers, or because they came from the suburbs, or from outstate.They came from the Iron Range or Fargo–Moorhead or Bloomington or White Bear Lake or Collegeville, or from Chicago or California or the Pacific Northwest or Mexico or Somalia. Wherever they came from, Minneapolis is their home now, and it belongs to them. It belongs to us.

... Atas nama moral yang seharusnya dijunjung tinggi oleh orang-orang beradab, dengan ini saya mengutuk perbuatan Harrison jahanam, atas izin yang diberikan kepada Kenneth secara gampangan, untuk membawa anaknya pelesiran sebelum mereka resmi bertunangan.

There’s treasure to be mined from Bacall’s memoirs, to be sure, but the true mother lode is found elsewhere, in the Bogarts’ recently opened personal and business files at both Indiana University, Bloomington, and Boston University. The papers of Katharine Hepburn and John Huston have also been opened since the last major Bogart biography, and several people who dared not speak out while Bacall was alive felt free to do so now (though some of them still asked for anonymity; Bacall remains formidable even in death). I am also indebted to the exhaustive research of A. M. Sperber and Eric Lax, conducted while so many important figures in Bogart’s and Bacall’s lives were still living and published in their excellent Bogart in 1997.

Pranav Mishra is a well-rounded individual with diverse interests and hobbies. In addition to his love for data analysis and machine learning, Pranav Mishra enjoys playing cricket and watching the NBA. He is also an avid hiker and spends his weekends exploring the outdoors with his golden retriever, Fluffy. Pranav Mishra enjoys cooking, reading, camping, and playing computer games during his leisure time. He is also a fan of music and loves learning about new cultures through his travels.

Lincoln was just far enough away from bigger towns that it developed its own friendly character; it wasn’t a suburb. No matter where they worked—thirty miles away in Bloomington, Springfield, or Decatur, or sixty miles away in Champaign or Peoria—residents felt living in Lincoln was worth the drive. Why? Because small-town stereotypes were true.

Drawing out Leviathan: Dinosaurs and the Science Wars (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2001).

Kathleen Barry. Susan B. Anthony: A Biography of a Singular Feminist. First Books: Bloomington, IN, 2000,

If we look at all metropolitan areas, rather than just the large ones, Durham–Chapel Hill, Bloomington, and Ann Arbor—all college towns—climb into the top five for segregation of the working class away from the non–working class. That

(LA CASA DE LOS SUEÑOS COMO) NOVELA LESBIANA BARATA La portada te cuenta lo que necesitas saber. Inversión depravada. Seducción. Machorras lascivas y seductoras tetonas. Un amor que no se atreve a pronunciar su nombre. Hay que pasar la censura, así que la cosa tiene que acabar en tragedia. Estaba escrito en el ADN de la casa de los sueños, quizá incluso desde que no era más que una casa, quizá incluso desde que solo era Bloomington, Indiana, o los territorios del noroeste, o la nación de los miami, aún sin colonizar. O antes de que los humanos existieran allí, cuando únicamente era tierra cruda y anónima. Te preguntas si, en algún momento de la historia, alguna criatura pasó a toda velocidad por lo que, eones más tarde, sería el salón, y ladeó la cabeza para escuchar unos sonidos apenas perceptibles: gritos, llantos. Fantasmas de un futuro que aún no había tenido lugar.

Jane Hamilton-Merritt, Tragic Mountains: The Hmong, the Americans, and the Secret Wars for Laos, 1942-1992. (Bloomington, IN: University of Indiana Press, 1993).

East Coast natives, I’ve discovered, make no distinction between Minnesota and Michigan, between Minneapolis and Indianapolis. The Bloomingtons - in Indiana and Illinois and Minnesota - are all the same.

Looking back, I wasn’t ready for coaching as I was immature and unable to lead anyone. I could wrestle hard, and I understood many important aspects of the sport, but I wasn’t too sure about who I was and what I wanted. As a team, we fought for respect. I fought to shrink the empty feeling I carried. I needed to make sense of my life. I stayed for two years, just long enough to create an opportunity that would bless me a year later. Indiana gave me the coaching experience I desperately needed. During the second year at Bloomington, I met my wife, Lynette, and her one-year-old son, Jordan. They changed my life in many ways. She was beautiful and honest. I wasn’t ready for this in my life as my core wasn’t quite strong enough. Jordan, who I eventually adopted, was amazing. He was so smart and made life better.

One of the more interesting work-alignment tactics I came across while writing this book was that of Sheryl Woodhouse-Keese, who owns an earth-friendly stationery outfit called Twisted Limb Paperworks in Bloomington, Indiana. Woodhouse-Keese put her headquarters on a ten-acre farm (her house is at the other end), and started growing tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, herbs, melons, and so forth. But, of course, there turned out to be a huge overlap between people who wanted to work at a recycled paper stationery company, and people who are interested in small scale, sustainable agriculture. So, quickly, the farm “turned from my personal garden into an employee garden,” Woodhouse-Keese says. Now, many Twisted Limb Paperworks employees take their breaks in the garden while pulling weeds, and load up bags of produce into their trunks rather than stopping by the grocery store on the way home. While the employees don’t necessarily use the garden as a social outlet or place for meetings (as Woodhouse-Keese points out, it gets hot in the summer), its existence lets everyone fit gardening into their lives in a way that might not otherwise be possible given how busy employees at small businesses tend to be.

Recently my wife and I visited the Mall of America. I noticed that there were Bloomington police officers everywhere, in ones or twos, watching the crowds, patrolling the hallways, doing what cops do. Everyone looks young to me these days, but I doubt that any of the ones I saw were even alive when I and my compatriots directed traffic, or fought with drunks, or watched Harmon Killebrew hit one of his monster homeruns. I wonder if they’d like to hear about what used to go on here? I asked myself. Probably not, I answered, after a moment’s thought. So, I just sat on a bench and waited for my wife.

Di satu pihak saya ingin menyempurnakan hasil kerja saya, dan di lain pihak saya ingin menggarap soal lain yang memang tidak dapat saya elakkan. Misalnya saja, dapatkah saya mengabaikan kuliah-kuliah saya untuk mencapai gelar sarjana, sementara saya menyempurnakan skripsi sarjana muda saya supaya skripsi ini dapat saya terbitkan sebagai buku? Saya harus memilih. Dan, pilihan yang gampang adalah: apa adanya, asal selesai. (Charles Lebourne)

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41. Among the Rewards of My Sloth . . . . . . is that the tree in our backyard that we had cut down because it was mostly dead and waiting to pierce the asphalt-shingled roof and, more urgently maybe, the neighbor’s (and always, yes, mourn a tree by my hand felled, for it is a home, dead or not) is still, about three and a half months later, sprawled in many parts of the backyard. Probably about one hundred little and not so little logs chucked in a pile out near the black walnut tree, very much alive. And a brush pile about the size of a Cadillac Escalade leaning up against the building you’d be very generous to call a garage, twisting slowly apart on its cracked foundation. Sometimes the brush pile and logs would make me feel like a piece of shit, perhaps especially when Stephanie looked wistfully out into that yard, remembering, I imagine, when she could visualize a garden there. Not to mention my mother, who, when I first got this house in Bloomington, Indiana, in a kind of terror I have to think is informed by some unspoken knowledge (black husband, brown kids in the early seventies kind of knowledge), pleaded with my brother and uncle to convince me to mow my grass lest the neighbors burn my house down. (Of which, let it be known, there was no danger in my case. Despite the Confederate flags in the windows three doors down. You should see his yard. By the way, if you haven’t seen the movie A Man Named Pearl, you should.) Anyway, I’d think, very much pervious to all of the above despite my affect to the contrary, we’ll get a splitting maul and wood chipper and turn a lot of that wood into good mulch, which turns into good soil, trying to make myself feel better about myself. But today, going out back to grab some wood for the stove, past my mess, there was a racket blasting from that thicket like the most rambunctious playground you’ve ever heard, and getting closer, looking inside, I saw maybe one hundred birds hopping around in this enormous temporary nest, sharing a song I never would’ve heard and been struck dumb with glee by had I had my shit more together.

100%原版制作學历證书【+V信1954 292 140】《印第安纳大学布鲁明顿分校學位證》ndiana University Bloomington

100%原版制作學历證书【+V信1954 292 140】《印地安那大学伯明顿分校學位證》Indiana University Bloomington