Eee Quotes

Ewwww-eee-wwww. Hey Ash, you vant to suck my blud? (Fang) No, thanks. The last thing I want is to catch parvo from you, or some other freaky dog disease that makes me lift my leg around hydrants. (Acheron)

Eeeee-eeee-eee oooo-oooo!

There was an enjoyment to being alive, he felt, that because of an underlying meaninglessness–like how a person alone for too long cannot feel comfortable when with others; cannot neglect that underlying the feeling of belongingness is the certainty, really, of loneliness, and nothingness, and so experiences life in that hurried, worthless way one experiences a mistake–he could no longer get at.

Patriotism is the belief that not all human lives are worth the same.

Moose had no friends that year. A lot of the time a moose would feel tired and lean against other moose. Only there wouldn't be moose there and the moose would fall.

G-d does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. "Whooo-eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?

Sometimes an alien would stand with a moose, not because of solidarity, but because of accidentally doing it.

He used to think things like, This organic soymilk will make me healthy and that'll make my brain work better and that'll improve my writing. Also things like, The less I eat the less money I spend on publicly owned companies the less pain and suffering will exist in the world. Now he thinks things like, It is impossible to be happy. Why would anyone think that?

God does not play games with His loyal servants,” said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. “Whooo-eee,” said Crowley. “Where have you been?

A world without right or wrong was a world that did not want itself, anything other than itself, or anything not those two things, but that still wanted something. A world without right or wrong invited you over, complained about you, and gave you cookies. Don't leave, it said, and gave you a vegan cookie. It avoided eye contact, but touched your knee sometimes. It was the world without right or wrong. It didn't have any meaning. It just wanted a little meaning.

God does not play games with His loyal servants,’ said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. ‘Whooo-eee,’ said Crowley. ‘Where have you been?

Life is meaningless. Everyone knows this. Look at Fernando Pessoa. He knew the most that life was meaningless. But he was always worrying about things. If life was really meaningless you wouldn’t worry about things

Don't be stupid and awkward," the dolphin says. "You want to walk together or not?" "You are a stupid piece of shit. Go away from me." The dolphin goes into the center of a circular clothing rack and quietly cries.

Her name...was Mrs. marina Orlova, and she had grown up in Siberia. Later, she would tell him that she loathed the American custom of constantly smiling: "They are like chimpanzees," she said, in her bitter exclamatory voice. She grimaced, baring her teeth grotesquely. "Eee!" she said. "I smile at you! Eee! It is repulsive.

Estragon: Acaba beraber olmasaydık ikimiz için de daha hayırlı olmaz mıydı? (sahneyi baştan başa geçer, tümseğe oturur.) Aynı yolun yolcuları değiliz aslında. Vladimir: (kızmadan) Orası belli değil. Estragon: Doğru, hiçbir şey belli değil. (Vladimir sahneyi baştan başa geçer, Estragon'un yanına oturur.) Vladimir: Her zaman ayrılabiliriz; bizim için daha iyi olacağına inanıyorsan. Estragon: Artık değmez. (sessizlik) Vladimir: Doğru, artık değmez. (sessizlik) Estragon: Eee, gidelim mi? Vladimir: Evet, gidelim. (Kımıldamazlar.)

I don’t like happy people,” Andrew said. “They’re already happy; they don’t need to be liked.” “Wow, so selfless,” Mark said. “You’re a saint. I commend your selflessness. Amazing.

Kids can say anything in a mocking, singsong voice, and make it sound uncool. “You have ears. Nyah-nyah-na-nyah-nyah, you have eee-ars and they’re on the side of your fay-ace!

sound comes out of his mouth like a nail being crowbarred out of a plank of green pine; Eeeee-eee.

Ha ha ha ha! Tee-hee-hee! Mwa-ha mwa-ha! Kee kee kee! Ho ho ho ho! Haw-hee-haw! Heh heh heh heh! Gah guffaw! Hoo hoo hoo hoo! Hoi hoi-eee! Ba ha ha ha! Tsee tsee tsee! Giggle, titter, snicker, crow, laughter makes my 'happy' grow!

He sometimes felt that life was something that had already risen, and all of this, the Jackson Pollack of spring, summer, and fall, the vague refrigeration and tinfoiled sky of wintertime, was just a falling, really, originward, in a kind of correction, as if by spritual gravity, towards the wiser consciousness---or consciousnessless, maybe; could gravity trick itself like that?---of death. It was a kind of movement both very slow and very fast; there was both too much and not enough time to think.

I don’t like happy people,” Andrew said. “They’re already happy; they don’t need to be liked.

Sara would call one of those cops on horses a motherfucker. The cop would avert his eyes. Sara would ask directions for the wild wild west.

Was this for real? Andrew had forgotten how to be happy! He suspected that it involved unwarranted feelings of fondness for other people, too much self-esteem, a sort of long-term delusion that manifested as charisma, and a blocking out of certain things, like lonely people, depressed people, desperate people, homeless people, people you've hurt, people you like who don't like you, politics, the nature of being and existence, the continent of Africa, the meat industry, McDonald's, MTV, Hollywood, and most or all of human history, especially anything having to do with the Western Hemisphere between 1400 and 1900, plus or minus 200 years -- but he wasn't sure. Why did it involve so many things? Maybe it was just too hard.

Everyone is folding boxes. Andrew is folding boxes. If the entire job were to fold boxes people would scream. They would fold, and sometimes scream, existentially, then be dragged into a field and beaten into a paste. Sometimes there would be a killing rampage.

The gate has a secret passcode. Sara has a secret passcode. She should. Andrew would stand there for years trying combinations. He wouldn't keep track or develop a strategy but just continue trying different combinations and then Kafka would rise from the grave and write a novel about him.

Let your attention glide           Through the centers of awareness along the spine                With adoring intent.           There is a song to each area of the body.           Resonating in sweet vortices,           Long rhythmic vowels and hums,           Ah . . . and . . . eee . . . ommmm . . . hummmm . . .           Resounding on and on.           Find the harmonies           Emanating from the circulation of life energies.           Listen to these as sounds,           Then more subtly, as an underlying hum.           Eventually as most subtle feeling.           Then diving more deeply,           Dissolve into freedom.

Merhaba, Corley," diye seslendi. Corley kimin seslendiğini görmek için başını çevirdi ve sonra yürümeye devam etti. Lenehan omzundaki yağmurluğunu eliyle düzeltip Corley'nin ardından koşturdu. Bir kez daha, "Merhaba, Corley," diye bağırdı. Arkadaşının hizasına geldiğinde pürdikkat yüzüne baktı bir ifade yakalayamadı. "Eee," dedi. "Ne oldu?" Ely'nin köşesine varmışlardı. Corley, halen yanıt vermeksizin sola kıvrılıp yan sokaktan ilerledi. İfadesi sert ve sakindi. Lenehan soluk soluğa arkadaşının yanından yürüyordu. Kafası karışmıştı ve sesinde hafif bir gözdağı vardı sanki. "Anlatamaz mısın sanki?" dedi. "Yokladın mı kızı?" Corley ilk sokak lambasının altında durup Lenehan'a sert sert baktı. Derken vakur bir edayla bir elini ışığa doğru uzattı ve gülümseyerek avucunu açtı. Ayasında küçük bir altın para ışıldıyordu

Rejection is good. Putting others ahead of self, giving things away. Success, money, power, fame, happiness, friends; any kind of pleasure—giving it all away, in the pyramid scheme of life, with the knowledge that everything will be returned, and being satisfied with that knowledge; not with the actual return of things, but the idea of the return of things. There is no return of things. There is death. Martial arts, deer, death. Singapore, octopus, death.

This world… belongs to the strong, my friend! The ritual of our existence is based on the strong getting stronger by devouring the weak. We must face up to this. No more than right that it should be this way. We must learn to accept it as a law of the natural world. The rabbits accept their role in the ritual and recognize the wolf as the strong. In defense, the rabbit becomes sly and frightened and elusive and he digs holes and hides when the wolf is about. And he endures, he goes on. He knows his place. He most certainly doesn’t challenge the wolf to combat. Now, would that be wise? Would it?” He lets go McMurphy’s hand and leans back and crosses his legs, takes another long pull off the cigarette. He pulls the cigarette from his thin crack of a smile, and the laugh starts up again—eee-eee-eee, like a nail coming out of a plank. “Mr. McMurphy… my friend… I’m not a chicken, I’m a rabbit. The doctor is a rabbit. Cheswick there is a rabbit. Billy Bibbit is a rabbit. All of us in here are rabbits of varying ages and degrees, hippity-hopping through our Walt Disney world. Oh, don’t misunderstand me, we’re not in here because we are rabbits—we’d be rabbits wherever we were—we’re all in here because we can’t adjust to our rabbithood. We need a good strong wolf like the nurse to teach us our place.

Ne hayatı varmış kentlerde? Varsa bile size var ! Ne geçiyor eline bizden oraya gidenlerin? Ne olabiliyorlar? Kapıcı, çöpçü, hızmatçı, dutma ... İstanbul-Ankara'daki avratların sidikli donlarını paklayıp, apartman yapılarını, garacları, caddaları bekliyorlar. Sırtlarıyla taş çekip han apartman yapıyorlar. Emme içine girip oturamıyorlar. Bekledikleri dükkenlerin hiçbiri kendilerinin değil. Pakladıkları sidikli donlar, bulaşıklar hep başkalarının ! Biz dünyaya çöpçü, hızmatçı olmaya mı geldik Emin bey? Burda acımdan ölürüm, gene gitmem o donuz kentlere ki çöpçü, hızmatçı olayım! Diyorsun ki, taş devrinden kalma yimekler, tunç devri nden kalma fitilli lambalar, kağnı, karasapan, tuluk ... Senin bir şeyden habarın yok Emin beyim! Yazıyorsun iki çızık, alıyorsun bin, iki bin! .. Bu gidende bizim yidiğimiz yimekleri bulamayanlar da var! Yataklarımızı dersen, eyi kötü biz yatarız be efendim! Eyisini buluncaya kadar kötüsüne eyvallah ! Diyorsun ki, fitilli lambalar ... Tuluk suyu demene de karşılık vereceğim : Tuluğun değerini bilen bilir ... Ondan sonracığıma, sen ölçeriyorsun ki, komşular köyleri bırakıp kentlere yörüsün! Yörüsün arkadaş! Yörüyenlere dur deyen yok zati ! Emme köyler boşalmasın ... Köyler boşaldı mı hepimiz boku yidik Emin beyim ! Ulusun milletin kaynağı, beşiği, köyler değil mi? Bu kaynağı kurutup, nerde üreteceksin milleti? Köyü söndürdün mü memleket söner beyi m! Elleme giden gitsin, yörüyen yörüsün. Emme kaynak kurumasın. Daha o gidenlere seviniyoruz biz. Neden deyecek olursan, okuyup amir mamir oluyorlar. Hiç olmazsa bizim dilimizi biliyorlar! Biz de onların dillerini biliyoruz. Baksana şu ballarımıza : Kadastro .. . Ne demek kadastro? Meteoroloji Rasat Cihazı? Ne bu? Kasabada bir dayranın kapısında yazıyormuş, Irıza söyler: Malarya Eradikasyonu! Emin beyim, biz Türküz hamdolsun ! Dilimiz de Türkün dili. Bize diyorsun ki, kadınlar görgüsüz, erkekler bilgisiz ... Haşa ! Hiç kabul etmiyorum! Biz kendi görgümüzü, kendi bilgimizi biliriz. Hemi eyi biliriz! Ama sizin görgüleri bilmeyi z. Emme siz de bizimkileri bilmezsiniz. Bak, yere bağdaş kurup oturabildin mi? Biz diz bile çökeriz! Masa sandalle deye tuz yumurtlattın Battal'a ... Dal öğlen bir seet uyumadan edemiyor hiçbiriniz. Uyku dediğin geceye masus ... Eee hani görgülüydünüz siz? Sen sade kendi görgünü biliyorsun. Emme senin görgün mü eyi, benim görgüm mü? Orası ayrı. Sen Gazi Kemal'i duydun, ben gördüm. "Memleketin efendisi, başkanı köylüdür !" deye neden dedi Gazi Kemal? Çünkü Kurtuluş Savaşını köylüler kazandı. Eğer varısa yarın cennete de köylüler gidecek. Neden? Çünkü köylüler sade kendilerinin değil, tüm milletin ekmeği için çalışıyor... Bir var ki, harp darp, sonra da seçim saçım, ağalar, beyler ... anasını sinkaf etmiş köylülerin ki, belini alıp doğrulamıyor garipler ... »

Dolphins felt top-heavy, that year, most of the time, and wanted to lie down. When their heads weren’t on top they still felt top-heavy, but metaphysically. In public places they felt sad. They went into restrooms, hugged themselves, and quietly went, ‘Eeeee eee eeee.’ Weekends they went to playgrounds alone. They sat in the top of slides—the enclosed part, where it glowed a little because of the colored plastic—and felt very alert and awake but also very sad and immature. Sometimes they fell asleep and a boy’s mother would prod the dolphin with a broom and the dolphin would go down the slide while still asleep. At the bottom they would feel ashamed and go home and lie in bed. They felt so sad that they believed a little that it was their year to be sad, which made them feel better in a devastated, hollowed-out way. Life was too sad and it was beautiful to really feel it for once; to be allowed to feel it, for one year. When dolphins had these thoughts, usually on weekends at night, it was like dreaming, like a pink flower in a soft breeze on a field was lightly dreaming them. The sadness was like a pink forest that got less dense as you went in and then changed into a field, which the dolphins walked into alone. Sometimes the sadness was like a knife against the face. It made the dolphins cry and not want to move. But sometimes a young dolphin would feel very lonely and ugly and it was beautiful how alone it felt, and it would become restless with how perfect and elegant its sadness was and go away for a long time and then return and sit in its room and feel very alone and beautiful.

He tossed me the towel. “Carry that over to my boat. I’ll hop in here and swim back.” “You’re nuts,” I said. “Just tough, that’s all.” He stepped between two boats and dived into the water. He surfaced and let out a yelp. “Hoo-eee. That’ll get you hopping.” Then he began a slow crawl in the direction of his houseboat. I walked along the dock, carrying the towel. I felt like a dope. Pooch was the biggest gossip in the country. Even a crummy detective should have been able to learn something from him. But not me. When he scrambled up the ladder into his boat, I tossed him the towel. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Eddie boy.” “I can do without pneumonia.” “Bunch of sissies around here,” he yelled. I headed back to the telephone. The line stayed busy until I gave up, and then I got spooked on the way back and ended up running home. And I couldn’t do the algebra problems either.

İstiklal Caddesi üzerinde bir tane deli görmüştüm. Deli, yani aklın hegemonyasından kurtulmuş. Bolulu Hasan Usta tatlıcısına girmeye çalışıyor. Polisler de bunu kenara çektiler, iyi davranıyorlar adama. Dediler ki: "Ne istiyorsun?" Bu dedi: "Yemek istedim vermediler." "Eee," dedi polis. "İçerde kendileri yiyor ama." Yani ben biraz böyle düşünüyorum. (...) Biz eğer insansak, bizim yemek yeme hakkımız var. Su içme hakkımız var. Parasız sağlık ve eğitim hakkımız var. Ayrıca esas olarak barınma hakkımız var. İşte böyle bir barınma hakkının bu toplu konutlarla çözülebilmesi mümkün değil. Bunu dünya örnekleri gösteriyor.

Yodel-adle-eedle-idle. Yodel-adle-eedle-idle-oo! Yo-yo yodel-laydee-hoo yodel-laydee-hoo, yo-yo yodel-yodel-laydee, yo-yo yodel-yodel-laydee-hoo. Yodel-leh-hee yodel-leh-hee yodel-leh-hoo. Yodel leh-hee yodel-lee-eee-ooo. Yodel-leh-hee yodel-leh-hee yodel-leh-hoo. Yada-yada yada-yada yad-eee-ooo, yippee odelay dee ahdelay ayaayayayay ohohohoh ladelayhee tee rodeo hee hee.

It’s depressing that people are different. Everyone should be one person, who should then kill itself in hand-to-hand combat.

I made her admit she liked me. She likes me. But we’re too alike. When you’re with someone and neither of you can stop saying good things. Then you both get very aware that life will end soon. I think that’s why we don’t talk that much.

Andrew..makes a shit-eating grin at no one; at a pizza box. He is embarrassed for the pizza box. He folds it. ‘Shit-eating grin.’ He needs to stop. He needs to use his face to convey emotions to other humans in order to move sincerely through life—laughing in groups of three or four; expressing gratitude, concern, or disapproval about people, the weather, or food; and manipulating members of either sex to get them to love him, like him, or respect him. That is what a face is for.

Andrew saw her next a few months later, from across a street, and she averted her eyes. Did she avert her eyes? Maybe she was being polite when she said ten times and enthusiastically that she was having a lot of fun. Maybe she was being sarcastic. Maybe politeness is the same as sarcasm. Someone should write that book. Against Politeness.

You’re not going to bounce on the seats and cry who-eee, are you?” I glare at him. “I’m not completely uncouth, you know.” Okay, I might have done so had he not mentioned it. “I’ve been in a plane with you for seven hours,” he reminds me as he follows me into the car. I have to grit my teeth, because, who-fucking-eee!, the car is fine. I want to rub my cheeks against the butter soft leather and play with the array of buttons so badly my fingers twitch. Gabriel eyes me for a long moment as the driver shuts the door with a soft thud. “Go on,” he says in a cajoling voice. “Give it a little bounce. You know you’re dying for it.

Cam-eee.” She drags out her name while pointing at her chest,

Pessoa talked about there being no escape,” the bear said. “He was right.

It was a year, that year, Ellen knew, as she’d noticed from her 10th grade classmates and from observing her family — her new year’s resolution (it was stupid to have one but she was bored in class and made a list, then picked one) had been to be more alert, to think more truthfully about things, and it had affected her, she guessed, with better grades, an increase in self-esteem that was actually just a realization of how dumb everyone was, and nerdy, slightly annoying insights like this one — for doing something not even that exciting or wild and then saying, “Why not?” Or else saying, “Why not?” then doing something sort of forced and meaningless. Mostly people just went around saying, “Why not?” and, later on, when it came time to act, saying, “It’s too hard,” without ever actually doing anything.

...each moment of being herself, she knew, was a strengthening, an adapting, of who she was; and she didn’t want to be who she was—that she would squeak a little.

Sometimes is it okay to perpetuate the hoax of sincerity leading a centralized self to commodified epiphanic end-stops even though the context is perpetually deferred and everything flies apart especially me-ee-eee-eeee? Even

Son an...Ertelenen umutlar...şeyi perişan eder. Kimin lafıydı bu? Bazen o son anın geldiğini hissederim, her şeye rağmen. O zaman iyice tuhaflaşırım. Nasıl diyeyim? Hem ferahlarım hem de...korkuya kapılırım. KOR-KUYA! Komik! Yapacak bir şey yok. Eee?

-Böyle devam edemeyeceğim ben. -Sana öyle geliyor. -Ayrılsak? Belki daha hayırlı olur. -Yarın asarız kendimizi. Godot gelmezse. -Ya gelirse? -Kurtuluruz. -Eee, gidelim mi? -Pantolonunu çek. -Anlamadım. -Pantolonunu çek. -Pantolonumu çıkarayım mı? -Pantolonunu ÇEK. -Ha,evet. -Eee gidelim mi? -Evet, gidelim. (Kımıldamazlar.)

Adisson…” dedi.“Ben Adisson eee…sadece Adisson,çünkü bana daha bir soyad vermedin.

Objective facts are Nash equilibrium points in the contest of competing wills.

The secret of knowledge lies in EEE... Eyes Ears Experiences

The bear makes a fist, slowly moves the fist to Andrew's face, touches Andrew's face with the knuckles, with its other hand holds the back of Andrew's head and slowly smushes Andrew's face into the knuckles of its hand that it had slowly moved toward then touched the front of Andrew's face with; the hand is furry.

Xaden Riorson is now in the business of keeping his mortal enemy alive.

Speaking of whores,” Max said with a twinkle, “where’s all those convict women I saw on television? Whoo-eee, some of them were mighty fine. Damn sight better looking than my chickens and pigs.

You’ve read Fernando Pessoa?” Lelu said. “You have?” Andrew said to Lelu. “Yeah, you?” “Yeah,” Andrew said. “You?” Andrew said to the dolphin. “Yeah,” the dolphin said. “Have you?” Andrew said to Shawn. “No,” Shawn said. “Who is he?” “A Portuguese author,” the moose said. The bear slapped the moose. “Who hasn’t read this person?” Shawn said loudly. Everyone had read Fernando Pessoa.

Andrew in his head has an image of a mouth larger than Andrew’s head and the mouth is laughing. Sometimes reading or watching TV Andrew recognizes that a thing is meant to be funny and hears this laughter, in his head, then feels that his face is very calm and neutral, like a hamster’s. At night sometimes Andrew’s heart beats fast and his thoughts are illogical and wild. In bed he looks at the ceiling and feels excited and alert, and can’t understand why he, or anything, exists.

Bir şeye, bir zamana, birine adanamamak içimde bir uçurum gibi büyüyordu. Kahvenin sıcağından yanan dilimi, damağımın serinliğinde tedavi etmeye çalışırken aklıma Pavese’nin sözleri geldi: Uçurumdan kurtulmanın tek yolu ona bakmak, derinliğini ölçmek ve kendini o boşluğa bırakmaktır. İçimdeki uçurumdan kurtulmak için adını yazmaya karar verdim. Dilim daha iyiydi. Gözümün önüne çeşitli isimlere adanmış metinler geldi. Yazının başlığını attım, başlığın hemen altında sayfanın sağına doğru tırnak içinde adının baş harfini yazdım ve tam ikinci harfe geçtiğim anda kalemime bir sıkıntının oturduğunu hissettim. Bir isme değil de bir harfe adanmış metinlerin okurla oyun oynayan gizeminin sıkıntısı, dilimin yeniden sızlamasına neden oldu. İkinci harfi yazamadım. Uçuruma bakmaya cesaretim vardı ama galiba derinliğini ölçmek istemiyordum. Böyle bırakmaya karar verdim. Yazım bir harfe adanmış olacaktı. Sence bu, yazıyı korkak bir yazı haline mi getirir diye sormak istedim. Ama dilim şiştiği için konuşamıyordum. Belki de o zaman yazının sana adandığını anlamayacak, hatta belki okumayacaktın bile. Bambaşka bir adresi de gösteriyor olabilirdi bu harf. Belki bir komşumu, belki de kilometrelerce ötede oturan bir dostu… Sevdiğim bir şairin adının baş harfi de olabilirdi. Bir şiir kitabının adı mı? Neden olmasın? Hayır, çocukluğumun gizemlerini taşıyan bir oyuncağıma bu harfle başlayan bir isim takmamıştım. Ama pekâlâ en sevdiğim müzik parçalarından birinin büyüsünü taşıyor olabilirdi. Kim bilir, belki de kendimi böyle çağırmayı seviyordum, belki de bu kimsenin bilmediği bir adımdı? Sonra daha korkunç bir şey kemirmeye başladı içimi. Eğer böyle bırakırsam, başkaları üstüne alınacak, yazıya, aslında sana ait olan bir yazıya sahipleneceklerdi. “İşte,” diyecekti eski bir dost, “Bu bana yazılmış bir yazı.” Bir komşum gecenin bir yarısı kapımı çalıp, “Bana adadığınız yazı pek güzel olmuş, içimden geldi ben de size su böreği yaptım.” diyecekti. Kütüphanemdeki kimi kitaplar, diğerlerine caka satacak, “Eee, ne yaparsın, bu adamı içindeki uçurumdan ben çıkardım.” diyeceklerdi. Oysa ben bu yazının tümüyle sana ait olmasını istiyordum. Konuşmaya, yanlış anlamaları ortadan kaldırmaya çalıştım, dilimi bulamadım. Kalktım, kahveyi döküp, bir bardak soğuk su içtim. Ne yapmam gerektiğini biliyordum. Bir harfle bırakmamalı ve uçuruma atlayacak cesareti göstermeliydim. Önümde kalın bir sözlük vardı ve bir sürü harf, önümdeki kağıdın tepesinde duran o güzelim harfin yanına yerleşebilmek için birbirleriyle yarışıyorlardı. Kendimi geceye ve içimin derin uçurumuna bıraktım. İkinci harf dilimden elime, elimden kaleme, kalemden kağıda yol almaya başladı. Bu yazının sana ait olmasını istiyordum. O yüzden önce adını yazmak geldi içimden.

the See-Eee-Oh of Something and

Ooh-eee-ooh,” wailed Nicky helpfully

Govorio je- "kad je dobra trećina Bošnjaka prišla Islamu i turkušama, uljegli su u sastav ogromnog bića koje se, mlado i horno, još propinjalo i širilo noge i ruke na sve strane. Žive energije tekle su kroz vojsku i upravu i Šerijat i nauke, dajući tom ogromnom biću sebe i svoju svježinu, a očekujući od njega dio njegove slave i moći. Prema potrebama te bošnjačke gladi za slavom i sjajem, ravnali su se i porodica i pravda čak. Svetinje su brzo prilagođavane potrebama trenutaka, i od okamenjenih pravila postajala je živa strašna snaga koja je zakucala hrišćanskoj Evropi sjekirom u vrata. Eee, ali sve što raste i dozrijeva, ima i svoju nizbrdicu i kraj. Još prije Beča, tursko carstvo je počelo da se topi. Beč je samo otkrio svijetu dokle se u turćijatu stiglo. Taj svijet je krenuo da Stambolu ubrza raspadanje, da ga batinom i vatrom dokusuri. Samo glupi podanici i uobraženi dvorjani ne znaju za silu Njemačke, Francuske, pa Austrije, pa Šveda, pa Moskova, pa Ingleske, pa Nizozemske, pa Španije, pa... eej, koliko i kakvih država i vojski brusi mačeve za turske vratove. Ee, sad, a šta Bosna, in diesem Moment? to jest, u ovom trenutku? Od Kara Mustafa-pašinog poraza pod Bečom i izgibije mnogih Bošnjaka pod bečkim zidinama, Bosna je razorenim naseljima i mrtvim glavama poplaćala mnoge račune Stambola, dala nakićen koporan, dobila krvav i otrcan rukav. Bošnjaci polahko dolaze pameti. A pošto vide da od stambolske uprave nemaju čemu da se nadaju, bježe u rod, u kuću. Kad je jedno carstvo na početku silaska, onda se u njemu neki dijelovi zatvaraju i tvrdnu kao u biljaka cvatovi pred mrak ili oluju. Mi ćemo se zatvoriti. Samo tako ćemo se othrvati. Braćo, sve rjeđe ćemo se rastajati, a sve duže živjeti jedan uz drugog i to na sve tješnjem prostoru. Moraćemo utvrđivati kuću, jer dolazi dugo doba odbrane. Samo će jaki, brojni i bogati izdržati. Ostalima će se za dva koljena gubiti i ime i trag. Potrebni su nam prije svega red, zapt, savršena poslušnost, eine strenge Diszipline, a u takvim prilikama samo jedan čovjek može biti gospodar. E u ovoj kući to sam ja.

Everyone should be impeached,” Ellen said. “For being so bad at living.

Maybe we should wait until after Thanksgiving for the dog. Thanksgiving is so soon! Aren’t you excited?” “I hate all holidays.

God does not play games with His loyal servants,” said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. “Whooo-eee,” said Crowley. “Where have you been?