Char Characters Quotes

His characters are ravaged, beaten. They walk through infernos and emerge charred doves.

I felt ashamed for having judged him so harshly without knowing the real boy. His one offense against me―goaded by Charlie’s bullying character―was easy to forgive.

I once read the most widely understood word in the whole world is ‘OK’, followed by ‘Coke’, as in cola. I think they should do the survey again, this time checking for ‘Game Over’. Game Over is my favorite thing about playing video games. Actually, I should qualify that. It’s the split second before Game Over that’s my favorite thing. Streetfighter II - an oldie but goldie - with Leo controlling Ryu. Ryu’s his best character because he’s a good all-rounder - great defensive moves, pretty quick, and once he’s on an offensive roll, he’s unstoppable. Theo’s controlling Blanka. Blanka’s faster than Ryu, but he’s really only good on attack. The way to win with Blanka is to get in the other player’s face and just never let up. Flying kick, leg-sweep, spin attack, head-bite. Daze them into submission. Both players are down to the end of their energy bars. One more hit and they’re down, so they’re both being cagey. They’re hanging back at opposite ends of the screen, waiting for the other guy to make the first move. Leo takes the initiative. He sends off a fireball to force Theo into blocking, then jumps in with a flying kick to knock Blanka’s green head off. But as he’s moving through the air he hears a soft tapping. Theo’s tapping the punch button on his control pad. He’s charging up an electricity defense so when Ryu’s foot makes contact with Blanka’s head it’s going to be Ryu who gets KO’d with 10,000 volts charging through his system. This is the split second before Game Over. Leo’s heard the noise. He knows he’s fucked. He has time to blurt ‘I’m toast’ before Ryu is lit up and thrown backwards across the screen, flashing like a Christmas tree, a charred skeleton. Toast. The split second is the moment you comprehend you’re just about to die. Different people react to it in different ways. Some swear and rage. Some sigh or gasp. Some scream. I’ve heard a lot of screams over the twelve years I’ve been addicted to video games. I’m sure that this moment provides a rare insight into the way people react just before they really do die. The game taps into something pure and beyond affectations. As Leo hears the tapping he blurts, ‘I’m toast.’ He says it quickly, with resignation and understanding. If he were driving down the M1 and saw a car spinning into his path I think he’d in react the same way. Personally, I’m a rager. I fling my joypad across the floor, eyes clenched shut, head thrown back, a torrent of abuse pouring from my lips. A couple of years ago I had a game called Alien 3. It had a great feature. When you ran out of lives you’d get a photo-realistic picture of the Alien with saliva dripping from its jaws, and a digitized voice would bleat, ‘Game over, man!’ I really used to love that.

Everybody knows, but many deny, that eating red meat gives one character. Strength, stamina, stick-to-it-iveness, constitution, not to mention a healthful, glowing pelt. But take a seat for a second. Listen. I eat salad. How’s that for a punch in the nuts, ladies? What’s more, as I sit typing this on a Santa Fe patio, I just now ate a bowl of oatmeal. That’s right. Because I’m a real human animal, not a television character. You see, despite the beautifully Ron Swanson–like notion that one should exist solely on beef, pork, and wild game, the reality remains that our bodies need more varied foodstuffs that facilitate health and digestive functions, but you don’t have to like it. I eat a bunch of spinach, but only to clean out my pipes to make room for more ribs, fool! I will submit to fruit and zucchini, yes, with gusto, so that my steak-eating machine will continue to masticate delicious charred flesh at an optimal running speed. By consuming kale, I am buying myself bonus years of life, during which I can eat a shit-ton more delicious meat. You don’t put oil in your truck because it tastes good. You do it so your truck can continue burning sweet gasoline and hauling a manly payload.

The nature and course of the love between man and woman is determined not only by the individual characters of the lovers; it is influenced also by the imapct of their circumstances on them. The river brings down its gushing nature from the mountain-top that gives it birth, but it acquires its distinctiveness from the contour of the land through which it flows. The same is the case with love. On the one hand, there is the inner feeling, on the other, the conflict with outward circumstances. It is the combination of these two factors that gives the complete picture its individuality. (Author’s Note)

Walt Disney in fact, later admitted that it was Charlie’s tramp template on which the cartoon character Mickey Mouse had been based.

In the interest of fairness, it should be said that sometimes my forgetfulness was praiseworthy. You have noticed that there are people whose religion consists in forgiving all offenses, and who do in fact forgive them but never forget them? I wasn’t good enough to forgive offenses, but eventually I always forgot them. And the man who [50] thought I hated him couldn’t get over seeing me tip my hat to him with a smile. According to his nature, he would then admire my nobility of char­acter or scorn my ill breeding without realizing that my reason was simpler: I had forgotten his very name. The same infirmity that often made me indifferent or ungrateful in such cases made me magnanimous.

In our view, when women fight for the wage for domes­tic work, they are also fight­ing against this work, as domes­tic work can con­tinue as such so long as and when it is not paid. It is like slav­ery. The demand for a domes­tic wage denat­u­ral­ized female slav­ery. Thus, the wage is not the ulti­mate goal, but an instru­ment, a strat­egy, to achieve a change in the power rela­tions between women and cap­i­tal. The aim of our strug­gle was to con­vert exploita­tive slave labor that was nat­u­ral­ized because of its unpaid char­ac­ter into socially rec­og­nized work; it was to sub­vert a sex­ual divi­sion of labor based on the power of the mas­cu­line wage to com­mand the repro­duc­tive labor of women, which in Cal­iban and the Witch I call “the patri­archy of the wage.” At the same time, we pro­posed to move beyond all of the blame gen­er­ated by the fact that it was always con­sid­ered as a female oblig­a­tion, as a female vocation.

The domain namespace is chaotic—every top-level domain and registry seems to have its own rules for things like minimum character lengths for domains, whether or not you can register at the top level (foo.nr vs. foo.com.nr for example)—and I didn’t want to go compile all these nuances by hand. So I used Mechanical Turk to gather things like the min-char lengths for each top-level domain, top-level registration possibilities, and all the second-level domains they may or may not use (Brazil is the craziest).

During the writing I began to feel, I think, that Charlie is alone. Nobody else! This should not affect the reader’s sense of reality, because I believed in my characters; loved them; they were very, very, real inside me. Yet only one person wrote them!—so it could be just Charlie in a grubby little barber shop. No Harry! And perhaps that Case, that Incident, exists only in Charlie’s mind. Isn’t the Chief Constable of the Summons an anagram as well?

reality evoked by the Shavian character who said, “In the last analysis, every profession is a conspiracy against the laity.

Withstanding the onslaught of life’s rapidly changing demands produces an inevitable sense of foreboding, which menacing energy spurs us to create, nurture, and protect the identity foliage that we till from the charred sphere that we exist on. Identity maintenance requires the cyclical rotation of our mossy perception of who we are and who we want to be. In setting our formative goals, we contrast the character traits exhibited by people whom we wish to emulate with the behaviorisms of people whom we do not wish to imitate.

It is in the role of the solar goddess that Hathor can show her more dangerous aspects. The duality of her character is emphasised, especially with the splitting off of her Sekhmet persona, reflecting the ambivalence of fire in general and the sun in particular. Although the Hathor Cow may be dangerous and unpredictable, like a wild cow, this is taken to extremes in the Solar Hathor where her protector and aggressor aspect is dominant. Like fire the sun is beneficial and dangerous, both life-giving and life-taking. It is purification and charred destruction, a nurturer of vegetation and its fierce desiccator.