Cruz Life Quotes

I don't need anything to get high. I'm high on life.

Love. It's so close to hate, it's almost indistinguishable. But this is how it was for the two of them. Love and hate. Life and death. Joy and anguish.

It was so nice just to live in the moment, to enjoy holding him so closely, to pretend for a little while that they were merely two young people in love and nothing else.

Encheremos o mundo de coisas preciosas. Serão tantas que os homens passarão por elas julgando-as banais.

This is not some silly game...This is life and death Angels and demons.

I lived for those moments when we were together, those few times in my life that I actually felt alive.

Because love was not the answer to every question. Because real love meant sacrifice. Sometimes love means letting go.

I love her because she has become something more to me. She become my life.

She was a stranger in her own life, a tourist in her own body.

A mind is like a puzzle; you must unlock it to read its hidden secrets.

It's not fair. It's not our fault. We have no say in our own lives. We're living a fairy tale someone else wrote.

Why should I? What do you promise me? Nothing. And everything. A life of danger and adventure. A chance to be yourself. Leave him. Come with me.

Yes, I was lonely, but I knew then and I know now: I did it because I wanted to change my life. That's what we have to do. We step in the shit on purpose so we're forced to buy new shoes. You know what I'm saying?

Prove it!" she hissed. "Prove you are who you are!" "We don't have time for this! You really want me to prove who I am?" he asked. "Yes!" she challenged. In answer, he took her in his arms, lifting her up and against the wall. He pressed his lips against hers, and with each kiss she could see into his mind, into his soul. She saw a year of hate...saw him alone, alienated, hurt. She had lied to him and had left him. With every kiss he made her see, made her feel...every emotion, every dream he had of her...every ounce of his wanting and his need...and his love...his all-consuming, life-affirming love for her. In the darkness they found each other again...and she kissed him back, so greedily and hungrily, she never wanted to stop kissing him...to feel his heart against hers, the two of them intertwined together, his hands in her hair, then down the small of her back. She wanted to cry from the overwhelming emotion that engulfed the two of them.... "Now do you belive me?" Jack asked huskily, pulling away from a moment so they could look into each other's eyes. Schuyler nodded, breathless. Jack. Every fiber of her being tingled with love and desire and remorse and forgiveness. Oh Jack...the love of her life, her sweet, her soul...

Almost halfway down the aisle, she saw someone she wasn't expecting, and she almost stumbled on her satin heels. Kingsley Martin stood at the end of a pew, his arms crossed. He was wearing a tuxedo as well. Just like any other guest. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Paris! He was supposed to be gone! He looked directly at Mimi. She heard his voice loud and clear in her head. Leave him. Why should I? What do you promise me? Nothing. And everything. A life of danger and adventure. A chance to be yourself. Leave him. Come with me.

Life is a whirlwind of many opportunities. Choose to embrace all of them in deepest gratitude. Learn to forgive yourself and honour the heart that beats within you, as well as the head that rests on your shoulders. Learn how to believe in people again and not be judging or cynical to various beliefs. We are all of one light on this one Earth, and loving humanity makes all the difference.

Thoughts are powerful So be careful

You may be to call up the entire encyclopedia, but a brain with no heart and no reasoning .. well, nothing is more meaningless.

O coração de um homem não está apenas dentro do seu peito, está também dentro das pessoas que ama, dentro da família, dentro dos amigos. O seu sangue não corre apenas dentro do seu corpo.

And at last, the lonely young man who belonged to no one finally belonged to someone, forever, and the practical girl who would not settle for less than a love story for the ages found the lifelong romance she had yearned for all her life.

Happiness doesn’t come from popularity, but rather from doing something that matters, making a difference, and fulfilling God’s plan for your life.

I know you don’t understand, but sometimes we have to go back to go forward,” he says.

Cara, we must not wait to live the life we want. Find a way to be present with the people you love.

To surrender is not giving up the struggle, but finding peace within the struggle.

Rosa nunca se sente única. Isso nunca lhe acontece na vida. Todos os seus momentos são minimizados com um "isso também já me aconteceu". A vida de Rosa é partilhada por todos e não tem nada de único. Todos os seres humanos são únicos, menos Rosa. Ela pertence a todos, como o pão da missa que se divide pela humanidade.

Love is merely a combination between infatuation and confusion.

Who she walks with, will tell you if she's worth it.

falafel joint, jazz joint, gyro joint, corner. Schoolyard, creperie, realtor, corner. Tenement, tenement, tenement museum, corner. Pink Pony, Blind Tiger, muffin boutique, corner. Sex shop, tea shop, synagogue, corner. Bollywood, Buddha, botanica, corner. Leather outlet, leather outlet, leather outlet, corner. Bar, school, bar, school. People's Park, corner. Tyson mural, Celia Cruz mural, Ladi Di mural, corner. Bling shop, barbershop, car service corner.

We are here not to make something of ourselves. We are here to Be ourselves.

Diz o judaísmo que o inefável nome de Deus é composto por quatro letras. Que esse nome é um tabu, que impronunciável. Digo-vos que eles têm razão, e que isto é ciência da mais profunda. As letras que compõe o nome de Deus são quatro: A, T, C, G. Adenina, timina, citosina e guanina. É isso que faz o nosso código, um código gigante, uma palavra tão grande que é impronunciável.

School was more than academics; an education prepared you for the humdrum of real life: working with others, tempering one's personality to assimilate with the group but without losing your individual identity, understading the factors of logic, reasoning, and debate. For a person - vampire or human - to succeed in the world, unlocking the mysteries of the universe was insufficient. One would also need to grasp the mysteries of human nature.

O world, why do you wish to persecute me? How do I offend you, when I intend only to fix beauty in my intellect, & never my intellect fix on beauty? I do not set store by treasures or riches; & therefore it always brings me more joy only to fix riches in my intellect, & never my intellect fix on riches. I do not set store by a lovely face that, vanquished, is civil plunder of the ages, & perfidious wealth has never pleased me, for I deem it best, as one of my truths, to deplete the vanities of this life & never this life to deplete in vanities.

How easily, without noticing, a man finds himself parallel to the life he meant to have, then arrives, years later, to find the band gone, flowers dead, love past.

She said, Don’t worry about me. I’ve done everything I’ve ever wanted to do. Cara, we must not wait to live the life we want. Find a way to be present with the people you love.

But even if we're together, it will only kill Jack." -Sky "If he will take the risk to be with you, who are you to tell him what to do with his life?" -Allegra

I love her because she has become something more to me. She has become my life. -Jack

Living a life like hell is not living at all. -Apple Cruz

Don't miss a chance at happiness because of your past misery.

Between the intention and the act, life was often a tale told to the deaf. •

Life is meant to be cherished, and lived, and risked. You’re scared of the past and all its mistakes. You’re afraid of the future and all its unpredictabilities. I understand that. But you have to learn to take courage. You have to let go and forgive. You have to trust and hope for a happy future.

And at last, the lonely young man who belonged to no one finally belonged to someone, forever, and the practical girl who would not settle for less then a love story for the ages found the life long romance she had yearned for all her life.

O teu avô pisava as uvas para fazer vinho, não era? Quando se chega a esta idade somos uma uvas, pisadas a vida inteira. Um dia, Nosso Senhor transformar-nos-á em vinho. Sofremos tanto que já só podemos ressuscitar, já não nos sobra mais nada.

This is my life and lovestory listen losely and hold on tight this a roller coaster hell of a ride

Mindfulness is attainable when one can embrace life, not its circumstances.

How many women get to choose who to marry and can truly dictate their own life? As God is my witness, my daughter will have choices.

Always follow your heart in deep situations. As other people's heart may be full of schemes and greed.

That was the problem these days--everything was considered disposable--clothes, cell phones, relationships.

did it because I wanted to change my life. That’s what we have to do. We step in the shit on purpose so we’re forced to buy new shoes.

This is why he never took these jobs anymore, Wes realized. It was too much-he couldn't save everybody-he couldn't even keep his solders alive, let alone in a line. Daran was lost, and while he was a jerk and a lowlife, he had still entrusted his life to Wes and Wes had failed him. He couldn't keep doing this, there were so many . . .and he was too young to watch so many kids die. Now he was being asked to save a few more . . . for what? So he could watch them starve?

É no ácido desoxirribonucleico que devem procurar os vossos segredos. O homem é que é um Deus e no centro do universo tem um ácido impronunciável que, na verdade, é a abreviatura de uma das palavras mais longas do mundo, o nosso próprio nome, um código feito com quatro blocos, quatro letras, e que nos define enquanto persona, que nos caracteriza o Eu. O nosso Deus abscôndito não passa de um ácido.

Kali is the goddess of destruction, the Clawed Hands, the Blood Drinker... And that's one side of her, as it is for any god. If you knew her for thousands of years you'd know she could be all colors. The sky is black at night, but if your eyes were good enough, they could see the different lights of a million stars. Death is part of her because death is part of life.

wonder how a country so divided can stand?” “We will only stand if we learn to accept and even embrace each other’s differences rather than allow them to divide us. It is a childish fantasy to expect everyone to agree all the time, but how much better to live in a country where one is free to think differently from one’s neighbors, and even one’s government, without risking life and limb.

My aunts taught me that sometimes when the world is too much, when life starts to feel overwhelming, we must strip away what’s unnecessary, seek out the quiet, and listen to the dirt and trees. “All the answers you seek are there, but only if you are willing to hear them.

- Ari, quando o vejo, lá no escuro (abro sempre uma fresta nos cortinados para espreitar), é uma luz na minha vida. - É da lanterna... - A sua lanterna ilumina-me a vida. - É muito simpática. Eu nem mereço, só aponto a lanterna para o lugar... - Só aponta a lanterna? Quem dera que na nossa vida houvesse um arrumador como o Ari, a apontar a lanterna para o lugar a que nos deveríamos dirigir, a iluminar o nosso caminho. Mas não, não temos ninguém. A minha mãe, que Deus a tenha, esperava isso do Senhor Jesus, mas nunca lhe vi a lanterna nem o vi arrumar coisa nenhuma.

Nobody needed to know what happened between us. It felt good to keep it private. Like praying. You don’t have to announce that you pray. I don’t need no one to make me feel bad about it. José was the antídoto to some of the most poisonous years of my life. He filled the emptiness of my apartment.

To be fair, something strange had happened. Donald Trump won the election. There was a Maya Angelou quote that ricocheted across social media during the 2016 election: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.” Trump showed us who he was gleefully, constantly. He mocked John McCain for being captured in Vietnam and suggested Ted Cruz’s father had helped assassinate JFK; he bragged about the size of his penis and mused that his whole life had been motivated by greed; he made no mystery of his bigotry or sexism; he called himself a genius while retweeting conspiracy theories in caps lock.

The first time I looked into a microscope at seaweed and pond water micro- organisms, there was something inside me that shifted—like the way people describe falling in love. And if I hadn’t been given the opportunity to cut into a cow’s eyeball at the age of fifteen, maybe I would have never majored in science, or gone on the semester study abroad trip to Colombia with the UC Santa Cruz biology department. So yes, I blamed seaweed and pond water microorganisms, a cow’s eyeball, and my teachers, the real culprits, for starting me down this path. Just like accident investigators put together a timeline, I call this the causation analysis of my love life.

El sufrimiento es parte del crecimiento

I am the author of my Life and Lovestory, I wrote it in poetry

Feelings, which aren’t always rational, have their own life span and sometimes, for whatever reason, need to be lived out.

An individual’s life prospects increase dramatically with each successfully completed phase of education.

To live is to betray your God. Every act in life, every act that affirms us as living beings, requires that the commandments of your God be broken.

Alexander Hamilton, widely reputed to be the most eloquent man in the United States of America, had, for the first time in his life, been rendered speechless.

Read books and be happy.

delectable life

If I could go back to my girlhood and its freedom, I would. But that’s never possible: life pushes us forward, into more complications than we ever imagined as children.

If you're lucky, you find a man that you don't fall in the hole with.

She was an enigma in so many ways, even if her whole life was online.

أيّة صورةٍ مشؤومة هذه، أن نرى الشكل الذي سنؤول إليه بعد سبع سنوات في التابوت. لكنّه أمرٌ مهم، فهذه هي الطريقة التي يتطوّر بها الطب، ولأجل هذا نفكّر في الحياة: بسبب التفكير في الموت

M.F. you're better than this. -K.M.

Don't fall for desire and greed. As it will bring deep consequences

Without imagination, there would be no creativity. Without creativity, there would be nothing.

Most of the time it may seem like I'm staring into nothingness, but there's a whole world playing out in my head.

Then beat yourself up if you want to. Afterward, rise above the unreasonable guilt you’ve imposed on yourself. Life is all about rising every time we fall, not only when we feel like it.

We continued dancing as a swift gale wheeled through the hills of Santa Cruz. Xuan leaned down to whisper into my ear, his lips lightly brushing the helix. “Once upon a time there was a boy, and he loved a girl very much. He was sad because he didn’t think the girl noticed him. Until one day the uni- verse intervened and a beautiful comet brought them together after a tragic accident occurred that day. The boy and the girl found comfort and friendship in each other that night. And something new and extraordinary began to blossom under the heavens, something that would burn with such bright- ness that all the stars would be in awe. And the boy fell madly in love with the girl and promised to always find her, in this life and the next.” “That’s my favorite story.” Xuan smiled. “It’s the best one I’ve ever told, Ms. Steel.

What I want you to understand is that the words that our schools, our government, our media, our colleagues, and our family use have a profound effect on how you think and feel about life. The words that you learn, and then use to speak and think with, are molding your reality. Your vernacular creates your visual representation of the world, and the language you think with essentially creates your experienced reality.

In the grand scheme of things, we share a mutual goal, but I'm not a distraction." He couldn't help laughing, probably loudly enough to scare a school of hammerheads. "What?" "Sharona Blaire." He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the smooth ocean surface. "You've been nothing but the sexiest, most desirable distraction of my life." The admission hung in the air, suspended, and for a painful moment, he regretted being so open... trusting. "I guess that means we have something else in common, Jeff Cruz.

... I used to have a big dog, a rottweiler, to guard the place. One night I was working late, and he was outside barking in the snow. He wouldn't stop. Then he stopped. I went out ten minutes later with a lamp, and there was a ring of wolves eating my dog.

There are relatively few churches that have a heart for the lost and for the inner city; Jim Cymbala and the Brooklyn Tabernacle are one of the few. They have allowed the Holy Spirit to use them to breathe fresh life into seemingly hopeless lives. Nicky Cruz

By definition prostitutes did not exist, because prostitution has been eliminated by the Revolution. Charges could be brought against them for spreading venereal disease, performing depraved acts or leading a nonproductive life, but by law there were no whores.

She really did trust Eliza. People made mistakes. She understood that now. And as Happy as she was to be with Ryan again, her friendship with Eliza was just as important. You only met a few kindred spirits in your life, and you had to hold on to the ones you were lucky enough to find.

He talked to me like he did when I was a child, when his voice was clear and melodic, his hair still dark, when he had only wrinkles around his eyes. He held my hand and patted it softly with every word, as if his words could be tattooed in my veins. He said trees grow up because they want to get closer to the stars. He said everybody is the center of their own world and yet they're just a speck in the universe. He said it's everyone's responsibility to not be afraid to love and to be loved. He told me that I was beautiful, that creating me was a good enough reason to live. He said every time he drank he was destroying a part of himself. We're afraid life is so short, we try to take from it as much as we can. We forget everything we need will come in due time. He said people need to have faith they will be taken care of, that people are part of this earth and the earth always gives us what we need.

The Greatest achievement of a human being is to one day realize that they are and have always been connected to a universal soul, that they are more powerful and more capable than they have ever imagined, that they are not insignificant evolutionary happenings but instead the architects of their entire worldly experience!

As for the vice of lust - aside from what it means for spiritual persons to fall into this vice, since my intent is to treat of the imperfections that have to be purged by means of the dark night - spiritual persons have numerous imperfections, many of which can be called spiritual lust, not because the lust is spiritual but because it proceeds from spiritual things. It happens frequently that in a person's spiritual exercises themselves, without the person being able to avoid it, impure movements will be experienced in the sensory part of the soul, and even sometimes when the spirit is deep in prayer or when receiving the sacraments of Penance or the Eucharist. These impure feelings arise from any of three causes outside one's control. First, they often proceed from the pleasure human nature finds in spiritual exercises. Since both the spiritual and the sensory part of the soul receive gratification from that refreshment, each part experiences delight according to its own nature and properties. The spirit, the superior part of the soul, experiences renewal and satisfaction in God; and the sense, the lower part, feels sensory gratification and delight because it is ignorant of how to get anything else, and hence takes whatever is nearest, which is the impure sensory satisfaction. It may happen that while a soul is with God in deep spiritual prayer, it will conversely passively experience sensual rebellions, movements, and acts in the senses, not without its own great displeasure. This frequently happens at the time of Communion. Since the soul receives joy and gladness in this act of love - for the Lord grants the grace and gives himself for this reason - the sensory part also takes its share, as we said, according to its mode. Since, after all, these two parts form one individual, each one usually shares according to its mode in what the other receives. As the Philosopher says: Whatever is received, is received according to the mode of the receiver. Because in the initial stages of the spiritual life, and even more advanced ones, the sensory part of the soul is imperfect, God's spirit is frequently received in this sensory part with this same imperfection. Once the sensory part is reformed through the purgation of the dark night, it no longer has these infirmities. Then the spiritual part of the soul, rather than the sensory part, receives God's Spirit, and the soul thus receives everything according to the mode of the Spirit.

...you will open your hands and feel the sweat on your palms and perhaps you will remember that you were born without lifelines on your hand, without fortune, life, or love: you were born, you will be born with a smooth palm, but all you have to do is be born; after a few hours, that blank surface will be filled with signs, lines, portents. You will die with your dense lines worn out, but all you have to do is die for all trace of your destiny to disappear from your hands after a few hours. Chaos has no plural.

I know there’s Godwin’s Law, and the notion that the moment Hitler is invoked in an argument, the argument is lost. So I won’t compare Trump to Hitler. He’s more Hitler-Lite. Although if it came down to a decision between Trump and Cruz over whose hand I would prefer on the nuclear button, I’d have to go with Trump. The man’s rich. He obviously relishes the pleasures of this life. Cruz is a religious fanatic who thinks there’s a better time awaiting in the sky. He’s in a hurry to get to the next world, so why not blow this one up. For

Of course I do. I’ve seen you upstairs every day, checking out book after book. You stay here reading long after every other student has gone home. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that someone who loves reading as much as you do can never be stopped. No matter where you go, you’ll have whole worlds in your head. No matter how hard life gets, you’ll have whole people’s lives worth of experience tucked away inside you. No matter how hard the world tries to silence you, there are millions and millions of words just waiting to burst from you.

I also was proud to represent John Thompson, a Louisiana man who had been wrongfully convicted of murder and sentenced to death. Two of my partners had represented Thompson pro bono for decades, and they had uncovered DNA evidence that proved his innocence. Tragically, the Louisiana district attorney’s office had deliberately suppressed the DNA evidence, and Thompson spent eighteen years of his life imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. He was released, and he subsequently sued the DA’s office for their wrongful conduct. A jury awarded him $14 million, and I helped represent Thompson on appeal.

I would rather remain in a cell for the rest of my life than see you throw your life away.” “It is mine to do with as I wish,” I say softly. “Here.” I push the box closer to him. “Please take it. Find the scrolls. You’re almost free. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” “I am not free, not without my love,” he says, and this time, when he looks at me, I don’t look away. My love. How do I answer that? There has always been so much unspoken between us. And yet now that we’re together, now that he’s saying the words I’ve so longed to hear, it is hopeless. Our fate is already sealed. “Leave with me. We can run away; we’ve done it before. We can find the scrolls together,” he says, taking my hands in his. “Shadow. Be with me. Always. I am yours. Be mine.

You all should feel excited. You have made history, although, unfortunately, not for a good reason, because the government has put policies in place that have so hammered small businesses that they have created a job market that makes life incredibly difficult for young people.   The recession of the early 1980s was comparable but was followed by a rapid recovery.   Well, gosh, what happened in the early 1980s? President Ronald Reagan was elected. He implemented policies the exact opposite of this administration's policies. Instead of jacking up taxes by $1.7 trillion, as this Congress and this President has done, President Reagan slashed taxes and simplified the Tax Code. Instead of exploding government spending and the debt, President Reagan restrained the growth of government spending. And instead of unleashing regulators like locusts that destroy small businesses, President Reagan restrained regulation and the result was incredible growth.   For

It had been hard enough to drive past the area. It was harder to imagine what it was like living there. Yet people lived with the stench and the terrible air, and had careers there. Even lawyers lived there, I was told. Was the smell of excrement only on the periphery, from the iridescent black lake? No; that stench went right through Dharavi. Even more astonishing was to read in a Bombay magazine an article about Papu's suburb of Sion, in which the slum of Dharavi was written about almost as a bohemian feature of the place, something that added spice to humdrum middle-class life. Bombay clearly innoculated its residents in some way. I had another glimpse of Dharavi some time later, when I was going in a taxi to the domestic airport at Santa Cruz. The taxi-driver - a Muslim from Hyderabad, full of self-respect, nervous about living in Bombay, fearful of sinking, planning to go back home soon, and in the meantime nervously particular about his car and his clothes - the taxi-driver showed the apartment blocks on one side of the airport road where hutment dwellers had been rehoused. In the other direction he showed the marsh on which Dharavi had grown and, away in the distance, the low black line of the famous slum. Seen from here, Dharavi looked artificial, unnecessary even in Bombay: allowed to exist because, as people said, it was a vote-bank, and hate-bank, something to be drawn upon by many people. All the conflicting currents of Bombay flowed there as well; all the new particularities were heightened there. And yet people lived there, subject to this extra exploitation, because in Bombay, once you had a place to stay, you could make money.

So it was always at night, like a werewolf, that I would take the thing out for an honest run down the coast. I would start in Golden Gate Park, thinking only to run a few long curves to clear my head. . . but in a matter of minutes I'd be out at the beach with the sound of the engine in my ears, the surf booming up on the sea wall and a fine empty road stretching all the way down to Santa Cruz. . . not even a gas station in the whole seventy miles; the only public light along the way is an all-​night diner down around Rockaway Beach. There was no helmet on those nights, no speed limit, and no cooling it down on the curves. The momentary freedom of the park was like the one unlucky drink that shoves a wavering alcoholic off the wagon. I would come out of the park near the soccer field and pause for a moment at the stop sign, wondering if I knew anyone parked out there on the midnight humping strip. Then into first gear, forgetting the cars and letting the beast wind out. . . thirty-​five, forty-​five. . . then into second and wailing through the light at Lincoln Way, not worried about green or red signals, but only some other werewolf loony who might be pulling out, too slowly, to start his own run. Not many of these. . . and with three lanes on a wide curve, a bike coming hard has plenty of room to get around almost anything. . . then into third, the boomer gear, pushing seventy-​five and the beginning of a windscream in the ears, a pressure on the eyeballs like diving into water off a high board. Bent forward, far back on the seat, and a rigid grip on the handlebars as the bike starts jumping and wavering in the wind. Taillights far up ahead coming closer, faster, and suddenly -- zaaapppp -- going past and leaning down for a curve near the zoo, where the road swings out to sea. The dunes are flatter here, and on windy days sand blows across the highway, piling up in thick drifts as deadly as any oil-​slick. . . instant loss of control, a crashing, cartwheeling slide and maybe one of those two-​inch notices in the paper the next day: “An unidentified motorcyclist was killed last night when he failed to negotiate a turn on Highway I.” Indeed. . . but no sand this time, so the lever goes up into fourth, and now there's no sound except wind. Screw it all the way over, reach through the handlebars to raise the headlight beam, the needle leans down on a hundred, and wind-​burned eyeballs strain to see down the centerline, trying to provide a margin for the reflexes. But with the throttle screwed on there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right. . . and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it. . . howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica. . . letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge. . . The Edge. . . There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others -- the living -- are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later. But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.

What are the policies that will bring back growth? Repealing Obamacare. Reining in abusive regulations. Stopping the EPA from strangling the American energy renaissance that can create millions of high-paying jobs, in energy and in heavy manufacturing. Sound money, auditing the Federal Reserve and stopping its endless quantitative easing that is debasing our currency and making daily life more expensive for hardworking Americans.

Instead of a federal government that works to undermine our values, imagine a federal government that works to defend the sanctity of human life and to uphold the sacrament of marriage. Instead of a government that works to undermine our Second Amendment rights, that seeks to ban our ammunition, imagine a federal government that protects the right to keep and bear arms of all law-abiding Americans. Instead

His new friends did not, perhaps, realize the overpowering effect of the sudden change upon this northernbred man; the effects of the moonlight and the soft trade-wind, the life of love which surrounded him here. Love whispered to him vaguely, compellingly. It summoned him from the palm fronds, rustling dryly in the continuous breeze; love was telegraphed through the shy, bovine eyes of the brown girls in his estate-house village; love assailed him in the breath of the honey-like sweet grass, undulating all day and all night under the white moonlight of the Caribbees, pouring over him intoxicatingly through his opened jalousies as he lay, often sleepless, through long nights of spice and balm smells on his mahogany bedstead—pale grass, looking like snow under the moon. The half-formulated yearnings which these sights and sounds were begetting were quite new and fresh in his experience. Here fresh instincts, newly released, stirred, flared up, at the glare of early-afternoon sunlight, at the painful scarlet of the hibiscus blooms, the incredible indigo of the sea—all these flames of vividness through burning days, wilting into a caressing coolness, abruptly, at the fall of the brief, tropic dusk. The fundament of his crystallizing desire was for companionship in the blazing life of this place of rapid growth and early fading, where time slipped away so fast. ("Sweet Grass")

If a clothing is expensive, don’t think of the cost. Think about the cost divided by the number of times you will use it. If the answer seems practical to you then buy it.

The facts are uncontroversial. Trump spent far less money on advertising than Clinton or his Republican opponents, yet he received a vastly greater volume of media coverage.20 The news business seemed strangely obsessed with this strange man, and lavished on him what may have been unprecedented levels of attention. The question is why. The answer will be apparent to anyone with eyes to see. Donald Trump is a peacock among the dull buzzards of American politics. The one discernible theme of his life has been the will to stand out: to attract all eyes in the room by being the loudest, most colorful, most aggressively intrusive person there. He has clearly succeeded to an astonishing degree. The data on media attention speaks to a world-class talent for self-promotion.21 Again, there can be no question that this allowed Trump to separate himself from his competitors in the Republican primaries. He appeared to be a very important person. Everyone on TV was talking about him.22 Who could say the same about Ted Cruz? Media people pumped the helium that elevated Donald Trump’s balloon, and they did so from naked self-interest. He represented high ratings and improved subscription numbers. Until the turn of the new millennium, the news media had controlled the information agenda. They could decide, on the basis of some elite standard, how much attention you deserved. In a fractured information environment, swept by massive waves of signal and noise, amid newspaper bankruptcies and many more TV news channels, every news provider approaches a story from the perspective of existential desperation. Trump understood the hunger, and knew how to feed the beast.

Snobs are the worst. Especially elite snobs like her, who think they’re so sophisticated when really, they’re closed-minded. They live in their fancy bubble and think that’s all there is to life. I turn away, but she’s not done with me yet.

But the Gosnell horror show, as utterly tragic as it was, represents one specific instance of abortion policy. From a broader legal perspective, the question facing any society is whether the rule of law should presume in favor of life. History is filled with sad and sorry examples of legal rules presuming against life, from the Dred Scott decision that barbarically justified treating African-American slaves as ‘property’ and not as humans, to the Nazi propoganda dehumanizing Jews that helped give rise to the genocidal murder of the Holocaust -pp. 95, 96

Porque, a veces, lo normal es lo extraordinario y el cambio es la única constante.