Incorrigible Quotes

It gives me great pleasure indeed to see the stubbornness of an incorrigible nonconformist warmly acclaimed.

If you have yet to be called an incorrigable, defiant woman, don't worry, there is still time

Writers may be disreputable, incorrigible, early to decay or late to bloom but they dare to go it alone

All books are judged by their covers until they are read.

On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn't the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill. The soul of the murderer is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clear-sightedness.

If it were easy to resist, it would not be called chocolate cake.

[A]s Agatha Swanburne once said, 'To be kept waiting is unfortunate, but to be kept waiting with nothing interesting to read is a tragedy of Greek proportions.

He limped slowly over to his own wooden sword and stooped awkwardly to pick it up. Trailing it on the ground behind him, he limped toward the queen, and the courtyard quieted as he approached and was silent again as he dropped to his knees before her and laid the sword across her lap. “My Queen,” he said. “My King,” she said back. Only those closest saw him nod his rueful acceptance. He lifted his hand to brush her cheek softly. As the entire court listened breathlessly, he said, “I want my breakfast.” The queen’s lips thinned, and she shook her head as she said, “You are incorrigible.

They came to know the incorrigible sorrow of all prisoners and exiles, which is to live in company with a memory that serves no purpose.

People said that there was one law for the rich and one law for the poor, but it wasn't true. There was no law for those who made the law, and no law for the incorrigibly lawless.

Remember when you used to hate me?” I laugh-sniff-hiccup. “Well, you used to be insufferable.” “I think incorrigible is a better word.” I lean my forehead against the wall and let myself imagine for a moment that it’s his shoulder, warm and firm, beside me. “You’re so full of it.” “Hey, I just got tortured for you. Easy on the ego.

As objects of contemplation, images of the atrocious can answer to several different needs. To steel oneself against weakness. To make oneself more numb. To acknowledge the existence of the incorrigible.

You're impossible. You're delectable. You're incorrigible. You're edible. I sigh, frustrated and turned on. You know it's true. He inches closer. No, I can't really say that I do. Well, I can.

For Sayonara, literally translated, 'Since it must be so,' of all the good-bys I have heard is the most beautiful. Unlike the Auf Wiedershens and Au revoirs, it does not try to cheat itself by any bravado 'Till we meet again,' any sedative to postpone the pain of separation. It does not evade the issue like the sturdy blinking Farewell. Farewell is a father's good-by. It is - 'Go out in the world and do well, my son.' It is encouragement and admonition. It is hope and faith. But it passes over the significance of the moment; of parting it says nothing. It hides its emotion. It says too little. While Good-by ('God be with you') and Adios say too much. They try to bridge the distance, almost to deny it. Good-by is a prayer, a ringing cry. 'You must not go - I cannot bear to have you go! But you shall not go alone, unwatched. God will be with you. God's hand will over you' and even - underneath, hidden, but it is there, incorrigible - 'I will be with you; I will watch you - always.' It is a mother's good-by. But Sayonara says neither too much nor too little. It is a simple acceptance of fact. All understanding of life lies in its limits. All emotion, smoldering, is banked up behind it. But it says nothing. It is really the unspoken good-by, the pressure of a hand, 'Sayonara.

Yeah, Pudge is adorable / but you want incorrigible / so Jake is more endurable / 'cause he's so - damn. Damn. I almost had four rhymes on adorable. But all I could think of was unfloorable, which isn't even a word." - Takumi

Clearly, being anxious is a full-time and rather exhausting occupation.

When the impossible becomes merely difficult, that's when you know you've won." - Agatha Swanburne

So what name would you rather I call you? she asked as she headed out of the parking lot. Ias or Alexion. He gave her a devilish grin that set fire to her hormones. I would rather you call me lover. He wagged his eyebrows playfully at her. Danger rolled her eyes. Like all men with a onetrack mind, he was incorrigible. Don't blame me, Alexion said in an almost offended tone. I can't help it. You should see the way you fight. It really turned me on. Could you tell me how to turn you off? -Danger and Alexion

World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and feel The drunkenness of things being various.

Will you never understand that I am incorrigible?

The evil that is in the world always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn’t the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill. The soul of the murderer is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clear-sightedness.

A better man wouldn’t play this ‘sweethearts’ game with her when he knew very well it couldn’t lead to more. But he wasn’t a better man. He was Colin Sandhurst, reckless, incorrigible rogue—and damn it, he couldn’t resist. He wanted to amuse her, spoil her, feed her sweets and delicacies. Steal a kiss or two, when she wasn’t expecting it. He wanted to be a besotted young buck squiring his girl around the fair. In other words, he wanted to live honestly. Just for the day.

Tacitus appears to have been as great an enthusiast as Petrarch for the revival of the republic and universal empire. He has exerted the vengeance of history upon the emperors, but has veiled the conspiracies against them, and the incorrigible corruption of the people which probably provoked their most atrocious cruelties. Tyranny can scarcely be practised upon a virtuous and wise people.

Αποφεύγουμε να λέμε στα παιδιά τι έγινε πριν γεννηθούν. Αρχικά είναι πολύ μικρά για να καταλάβουν, ύστερα είναι πολύ μεγάλα για ν' ακούσουν, μετά δεν έχουν καιρό για τέτοια, ώσπου στο τέλος είναι πια πολύ αργά. Αυτά έχουν οι οικογένειες. Ζεις με ανθρώπους που νομίζεις ότι τους γνωρίζεις, όμως είστε τελείως άγνωστοι. Ζητάμε θαύματα από τους δεσμούς αίματος: μια αρμονική συνύπαρξη που είναι εντελώς ανέφικτη. Απόλυτη εμπιστοσύνη. Σχέσεις που μένουν αναλλοίωτες στον χρόνο. Παραμυθιαζόμαστε με το ψέμα της συγγένειας.

The evil that is in the world comes out of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. One the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn't the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill.

A well-organized stocking drawer is the first step toward a well-organized mind.

Στην εποχή μας, μιλάμε ο ένας στον άλλο, αλλά δεν λέμε τίποτα.

I squeeze her and she laughs and looks up at me, "Jules, you incorrigible rake," she scolds, and then gives me a smile that makes me feel we're in zero gravity. Floating inches above the floor. weightless and timeless, and I wish this song would last forever.

No hopeless case is truly without hope." - Agatha Swanburne

If a child shows himself to be incorrigible, he should be decently and quietly beheaded at the age of twelve, lest he grow to maturity, marry, and perpetuate his kind.

What an incorrigible nonentity one must be to play only one role in life, to occupy only one place in society, to always mean one and the same thing!

Complaining doesn't butter the biscuit" -Agatha Swanburne

the two girls emanated an incorrigible idle inertia.

If you have ever opened a can of worms, boxed yourself into a corner, ended up in hot water, or found yourself in a pretty pickle, you already know that life is rarely (if ever) just a bowl of cherries.

When the impossible becomes merely difficult, that's when you know you've won.

Κρίνοντας εκ του αποτελέσματος, το ψέμα είναι, με διαφορά, η πιο ανώφελη και αναποτελεσματική λύση. Το μόνο που καταφέρνεις είναι να μπαίνεις σε μπελάδες.

To do something familiar and succeed is no surprise, but to try something new and fail--why, that is the start of an adventure.

In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.

Nowadays, people resort to all kinds of activities in order to calm themselves after a stressful event: performing yoga poses in a sauna, leaping off bridges while tied to a bungee, killing imaginary zombies with imaginary weapons, and so forth. But in Miss Penelope Lumley's day, it was universally understood that there is nothing like a nice cup of tea to settle one's nerves in the aftermath of an adventure- a practice many would find well worth reviving.

Nothing good was ever learned from eavesdropping, so mind your business and let others mind theirs.

I will have the children read Hamlet as soon as it is practical. There are some useful cautions against eavesdropping to be gleaned from that.

I was twelve years of age when I cut my hair short, became a highwayman, and captured husbands for both of my sisters. I could hardly wait to find out what would happen next.

I supposed this is what is meant by 'growing up'...Find out the difference between what one expected one's life would be like and how things really are" -Lady Constance

I am always incorrigibly interested in the behaviour of the 'human animal', and look forward to perusing divers effusions of your lively pen.

Busy hands and idle minds have knitted many a sweater; Busy minds and idle hands have knitted many a brow.

I was twelve years of age when I chopped off my hair, dressed as a boy, and set off to save my family from impending ruin. I made it almost to the end of my front garden.

A quoi servait un ami s'il ne vous tendait pas la main le jour où vous en avez besoin?

I hated wasting my time. The only thing that seemed worthwhile to me was reading.

That which can be purchases at a shop is easily left in a taxi; that which you carry inside you is difficult, though not impossible, to misplace" -Agatha Swanburne

If both of your shoes are shined, then your best foot will always be forward.

Έχει την επιλεκτική μνήμη των επιζώντων. Ό,τι μας ενοχλεί ή μας αφήνει αδιάφορους, το ξεχνάμε. Κρατάμε μονάχα ό,τι μας εξυπηρετεί, ειδάλλως δεν έχουμε καμιά ελπίδα να επιβιώσουμε.

Pour l'instant tout va bien.

In the name of motherhood and fatherhood and education and good manners, we threaten and suffocate and bind and ensnare and bribe and trick children into wholesale emulation of our ways. Indeed, originality is recognized as disobedience, pathology, incorrigible character and/or unlawful conduct to be prosecuted by the state.

All this, and discontent too! Otherwise, why am I sitting here dreaming of England? Why am I gazing at this campfire like a lost should seeking a hope when all that I love is at my wingtips? Because I am curious. Because I am incorrigibly, now, a wanderer.

That is the purpose of museums, of course. One does not go merely to collect facts and souvenirs and picture post cards, but to enlarge one's notion of all that has been, and all that is, and all that might be. In this way we begin to understand what part each of us was born to play in the marvelous tale of existence.

For me, Mama's cabinet had been full of mysteries and secrets to be puzzled out, like an adventure. For them it had been full of memories. And I had broken all of them.

There is no alarm clock like embarrassment,

I reckon I am a smart aleck, but it is just a way to pass the time.

This is what differentiates sympathy from empathy. No matter how much I care for you, it's not until I recognize me in you and you in me that the veil of gauze is lifted on the world.

Why are the cute ones always such sociopaths?" "Win doesn't seem like so much of a sociopath," I replied without thinking. "Oh, really? So, you think he's cute, do you? At least you're admitting it now." I shook my head. Scarlet was incorrigible. "Admitting it is the first step, Annie.

Only incorrigible bohemians find it boring or laughable when a man of talent outgrows the libertine chrysalis stage and begins to perceive and express the dignity of the intellect, adopting the courtly ways of a solitude replete with bitter suffering and inner battles though eventually gaining a position of power and honor among men.

On redoute toujours de perdre la mémoire. C'est elle la source de nos maux. On ne vit bien que dans l'oubli. La mémoire est le pire ennemi du bonheur. Les gens heureux oublient

Δεν γνώριζα ούτε τον τίτλο, ούτε τον συγγραφέα του μυθιστορήματος. Ξεφυλλίζοντάς το, στάθηκα τυχαία σε μια παράγραφο. Διάβασα τρία αποσπάσματα, από καμιά δεκαριά γραμμές το καθένα, τα οποία απείχαν μεταξύ τους γύρω στις πενήντα σελίδες. Η ανάγνωση έχει κάτι το μεταφυσικό. Πριν διαβάσεις ένα βιβλίο, μαντεύεις κατευθείαν αν θα σου αρέσει ή όχι. Το μυρίζεις, το διαισθάνεσαι, αναρωτιέσαι αν αξίζει να του αφιερώσεις τον χρόνο σου. Είναι η αόρατη αλχημεία των σημαδιών πάνω στο χαρτί, που εντυπώνονται στο μυαλό μας. Κάθε βιβλίο είναι ένας ζωντανός οργανισμός.

Το να διαβάζεις και να σου αρέσει το μυθιστόρημα ενός παλιανθρώπου δεν σημαίνει ότι του δίνεις, τρόπον τινά, άφεση αμαρτιών, ότι συμμερίζεσαι τις πεποιθήσεις του ή γίνεσαι συνένοχός του: σημαίνει ότι αναγνωρίζεις το ταλέντο του και όχι ότι ασπάζεσαι την ηθική του ή τις ιδέες του.

Il y a dans la lecture quelque chose qui relève de l'irrationnel. Avant d'avoir lu, on devine tout de suite si on va aimer ou pas. On hume, on flaire le livre, on se demande si ça vaut la peine de passer du temps en sa compagnie. C'est l'alchimie invisible des signes tracés sur une feuille qui s'impriment dans notre cerveau. Un livre, c'est un être vivant.

..A hawk soared over our carriage, letting out a high, piercing cry of defiance, and I wanted to jump out of the window and fly with it

You’ll find it in the last place you look, so, for heaven’s sake, keep looking until you find it!

To be kept waiting is unfortunate, but to be kept waiting with nothing interesting to read is a tragedy of Greek proportions" -Agatha Swanburne

An open mind lets ideas out, as well as in" -Agatha Swanburne

When the impossible becomes merely difficult, that's when you know you've won" -Agatha Swanburne

You're not where you were, and you're not where you're going. You're here, so pay attention!

There is power in words used accurately and well, and tragedy and missed train connections in words used carelessly.

If you've ever rubbed shoulders with insanity, he is a sweaty, foul-breathed cab driver who locks the door and takes you wherever he wants. The more you squirm to get out, the happier he seems to get. Insanity loves- no, needs-company.

This memory was both happy and sad: happy because it was so pleasant, and sad because it made Penelope think about how much she missed Swanburne--the girls, the teachers, Miss Mortimer. Or perhaps it was her own much younger self, that pint-sized person whom she could never be again, whom she missed. It was hard to say.

Curiously, Chris didn’t hold everyone to the same exacting standards. One of the individuals he professed to admire greatly over the last two years of his life was a heavy drinker and incorrigible philanderer who regularly beat up his girlfriends. Chris was well aware of this man’s faults yet managed to forgive them. He was also able to forgive, or overlook, the shortcomings of his literary heroes: Jack London was a notorious drunk; Tolstoy, despite his famous advocacy of celibacy, had been an enthusiastic sexual adventurer as young man and went on to father at least thirteen children, some of whom were conceived at the same time the censorious count was thundering in print against the evils of sex.

Our parents thought we might be corrupted by one another into becoming whatever it was they most feared: an incorrigible masturbator, a winsome homosexual, a recklessly impregnatory libertine. On our behalf they dreaded the closeness of adolescent friendship, the predatory behaviour of strangers on trains, the lure of the wrong kind of girl. How far their anxieties outran our experience.

Since Sienna was in an unusually cooperative mood, the session went well. He was returning from it midmorning - after a short detour - when a small naked body barreled into him in one of the main corridors. Steadying the boy with Tk, he looked down. The child lifted a finger to his lips. "Shh. I'm hiding." With that, he went behind Judd and scrambled into a small alcove. "Quickly! Not sure why he obeyed the order, Judd backed up to stand in front of the alcove, arms crossed. A flustered Lara came running around the corner a few seconds later. "Have you seen Ben? Four-year-old. Naked as a jaybird?" "How tall is he?" Judd asked in his most overbearing Psy manner. Lara stared. "He's four. How tall do you think he is? Have you seen him or not?" "Let me think...did you say he was naked?" "He was about to be bathed. Slippery little monkey." A giggle from behind Judd. Lara's eyes widened and then her lips twitched. "So you haven't seen him?" "Without a proper description, I can't be sure." The healer was obviously trying not to laugh. "You shouldn't encourage him - he's incorrigible as it is." Judd felt childish hands on his left calf and then Ben poked his head out. "I'm incorwigeable, did ya hear?" Judd nodded. "I do believe you've been found. Why don't you go have your bath?" "Come on, munchkin." Lara held out a hand. Surprisingly strong baby arms and legs wrapped around Judd's leg. "No. I wanna stay with Uncle Judd." Lara anticipated his question. "Ben spends a lot of time with Marlee." "I spend a lot of time with Marlee," a small voice piped up.

When all great movements are in their infancy, they are nourished basically on the mother's milk of righteous indignation. It is a time of red-faced screaming and finger pointing. That's a good thing - we need to be angry to move toward any systemic change. But ultimately the fingers have to stop pointing and the hand has got to get down to work - and the work is always messy.

Elk have not been seen in Switzerland for many a year. In the interests of scientific accuracy, please strike the idea of elk from your mind. If you must, think of ibexes instead, a fierce and agile type of goat with great spiraling horns. Marmots will also do in a pinch, but under no circumstances should you think of elk. No. Elk. The elkless among you may now proceed.

The evil that is in the world always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn't the real point, but they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill. The soul of the murderer is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clear-sightedness.

There is something irrational about reading. Before you read a book, you can know immediately whether or not you are going to like it, just as with people, you can tell just from looking at them whether or not you’ll be their friend. You smell it, you sniff it, you wonder whether it’s worth spending time in its company. The pages of a book have an invisible alchemy that imprints itself on our brain. A book is a living creature.

If you have ever opened a can of worms, boxed yourself into a corner, ended up in hot water, or found yourself in a pretty pickle, you already know that life is rarely (if ever) just a bowl of cherries. It is far more likely to be a bowl of problems, worries, and difficulties. This is normal and should not be cause for alarm.

...there is no such thing as a parttime partisan. Real partisans are partisans always and as long as they live. They put fallen governments back in power and overthrow governments that have just been put in power with the help of partisans. Mr Matzerath contended - and his thesis struck me as perfectly plausible - that among all those who go in for politics your incorrigible partisan, who undermines what he has just set up, is closest to the artist because he consistently rejects what he has just set up.

Reading and loving a novel written by a bastard is not to absolve him in any way, to share his convictions or connive with him, it’s to recognize his talent, not his morals or his ideals. I have no wish to shake Hergé’s hand, but I love Tintin. And after all, are you yourself above reproof?

Πέρασαν είκοσι πέντε χρόνια για να ξαναιδωθούν και να ξαναμιλήσουν. Κατά τη διάρκεια αυτής της χαμένης ζωής, πρέπει να θυμήθηκαν πολλές φορές εκείνη την ημέρα, ν'αναρωτήθηκαν γιατί και πώς έφτασαν σ'αυτό το σημείο και αν άξιζε τον κόπο να γίνεται κανείς εκτός εαυτού με κάποιον για ασήμαντα πράγματα που με τον καιρό ξεχνιούνται. Η μνήμη μας είναι έτσι φτιαγμένη, ώστε να διαγράφει τις κακές αναμνήσεις και να κρατάει μόνο τις καλύτερες.

He who despises himself, nevertheless esteems himself as a self-despiser. (Nietzsche.) A vain person is always vain about something. He overestimates the importance of some quality or exaggerates the degree to which he possesses it, but the quality has some real importance and he does possess it to some degree. The fantasy of overestimation or exaggeration makes the vain person comic, but the fact that he cannot be vain about nothing makes his vanity a venial sin, because it is always open to correction by appeal to objective fact. A proud person, on the other hand, is not proud of anything, he is proud, he exists proudly. Pride is neither comic nor venial, but the most mortal of all sins because, lacking any basis in concrete particulars, it is both incorrigible and absolute: one cannot be more or less proud, only proud or humble. Thus, if a painter tries to portray the Seven Deadly Sins, his experience will furnish him readily enough with images symbolic of Gluttony, Lust, Sloth, Anger, Avarice, and Envy, for all these are qualities of a person’s relations to others and the world, but no experience can provide an image of Pride, for the relation it qualifies is the subjective relation of a person to himself. In the seventh frame, therefore, the painter can only place, in lieu of a canvas, a mirror.

J'ai un problème avec la logique. Je n'ai jamais compris comment on pouvait dire une chose et son contraire. Jurer qu'on aime quelqu'un et le blesser, avoir un ami et l'oublier, se dire de la même famille et s'ignorer comme des étrangers, revendiquer des grands principes et ne pas les pratiquer, affirmer qu'on croit en Dieu et agir comme s'il n'existait pas, se prendre pour un héros quand on se comporte comme un salaud. (p.173)

But when the seesaw of good fortune sinks downward for one person, it is very often on its way up for someone else. This little-known law of physics is called the Fulcrum of Fortune, and although most people prefer to think of fortune as a wheel that spins, the fulcrum (that is, seesaw) is a more accurate depiction for most of us, since the worse our own luck becomes, the more likely we are to notice the good fortune of those around us and brood about the injustice of it all.

This practice of overstating the case is called hyperbole. Hyperbole is usually harmless, but in some cases it has been known to precipitate unnecessary wars as well as a painful gaseous condition called stock market bubbles. For safety's sake, then, hyperbole should be used with restraint and only by those with proper literary training.

In this way Penelope's happy and sad feelings got all mixed up together, until they were not unlike one of those delicious cookies they have nowadays, the ones with a flat circle of sugary cream sandwiched between two chocolate-flavored wafers. In her heart she felt a soft, hidden core of sweet melancholy nestled inside crisp outer layers of joy, and if that is not the very sensation most people feel at some point or other during the holidays, then one would be hard pressed to say what is.

[Y]ou are at the top of the energy food chain in your home. Your stress becomes manifested in your animal companions, as surely as it is manifested in your significant other, in your children. If you choose to share your life with others, you have a responsibility to check your shit at the door or others will suffer.

Penelope had read several novels about such governesses in preparation for her interview and found them chock-full of useful information, although she had no intention of developing romantic feelings for the charming, penniless tutor at a neighboring estate. Or - heaven forbid! - for the darkly handsome, brooding, and extravagantly wealthy master of her own household. Lord Frederick Ashton was newly married in any case, and she had no inkling what his complexion might be

Well, I'm over it. Let's just forget about it.” He blinked at me, seeming surprised by my easy forgiveness. I gave him a small smile and took a sip of my juice. He leaned back in his chair and observed me. “How's your orange juice, Ann? Does it have a touch of lime?” The glass paused at my lips as I processed his innuendo, and I took a second to make sure my embarrassment stayed hidden inside. I let the drink swish over my tongue a moment before swallowing and answering. “Actually it's a little sour,” I said, and he laughed. “That's a shame.” He picked up a green pear from his plate and bit into it, licking juice that dripped down his thumb. My cheeks warmed as I set down my glass. “Okay, now you're just being crude,” I said. He grinned with lazy satisfaction. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just enjoying my breakfast.” He took another bite and I shook my head. The boy had a major effect on me, but some of the shock factor was beginning to wear off, and I found myself being less offended by his incorrigible nature.

I hope each of us owns the facts of her or his own life," Hughes wrote in a letter to the Independent in April, 1989, when he had been goaded by a particularly intrusive article. But, of course, as everyone knows who has ever heard a piece of gossip, we do not "own" the facts of our lives at all. This ownership passes out of our hands at birth, at the moment we are first observed. The organs of publicity that have proliferated in our time are only an extension and a magnification of society's fundamental and incorrigible nosiness. Our business is everybody's business, should anybody wish to make it so. The concept of privacy is a sort of screen to hide the fact that almost none is possible in a social universe. In any struggle between the public's inviolable right to be diverted and an individual's wish to be left alone, the public almost always prevails. After we are dead, the pretense that we may somehow be protected against the world's careless malice is abandoned. The branch of the law that putatively protects our good name against libel and slander withdraws from us indifferently. The dead cannot be libelled or slandered. They are without legal recourse.

She had chosen Dante because she found the rhyme scheme pleasingly jaunty, but she realized too late that the Inferno's tale of sinners being cruelly punished in the afterlife was much too bloody and disturbing to be suitable for young minds. Penelope could tell this by the way the children hung on her every word and demanded "More, more!" each time she reached the end of a canto and tried to stop.

She was organized, ardently neat, whereas he was the rabbit's wild brother, leaving what looked like the path of an undressing hurricane wherever he went. He dropped his shoes, badger coat, cigarette ash, a dish towel, plant journals, trowels, on the floor behind him, left washed-off mud from potatoes in the sink. Whatever he came upon would be eaten, wrestled with, read, tossed away, the discarded becoming invisible to him. Whatever his wife said about this incorrigible flaw did no good. I suspect, in fact, she took pleasure in suffering his nature. Though give him credit, Mr. Malakite's fields were immaculate. No plant left its bed and wandered off as a 'volunteer'. He scrubbed the radishes under the thin stream of a hose. He spread his wares neatly on the trestle table at the Saturday market.

Ένα ηλιόλουστο πρωινό, ο Στάλιν ξυπνάει, κοιτάει τον ήλιο και του λέει: "Ήλιε, πες μου, ποιος είναι ο πιο ωραίος, ο πιο έξυπνος και ο πιο δυνατός άνδρας στον κόσμο;" Αμέσως, ο ήλιος τού απαντά: "Εσύ, ω Στάλιν, φως της οικουμένης!" Το μεσημέρι, ο Στάλιν ξαναρωτά: "Πες μου, Ήλιε, ποιος είναι ο πιο υπέροχος, ο πιο ευφυής, ο εξοχότερος άνδρας όλων των εποχών;" Ο ήλιος επαναλαμβάνει: "Εσύ, ω τρισμέγιστε Στάλιν". Προτού δειπνήσει, ο Στάλιν δεν αντέχει να μη ρωτήσει τον Ήλιο ποιος είναι ο καλύτερος κομμουνιστής στον κόσμο. Ο ήλιος του απαντά: "Είσαι άρρωστος Στάλιν, ψυχοπαθής και παράφρονας. Σ' έχω χεσμένο! Τώρα είμαι στη Δύση!".

There was hair. So much hair. Dead hair, hair of my gone self, wisps of spiderweb hair, old uniform lint hair, pillow sponge and tangerine strings hair. A whole life pulled itself up by my hair, the hair that locked the year I broke my tooth, hair that locked the day we caught cane ashes in the yard. Hair of our lean years, hair of the fat, pollen of marigolds hair, my mother's aloe vera hair, my sisters weaving wild ixoras in my hair, the pull of the tides at our sea village hair, grits of sand hair, hair of salt tears, hair thick with the blood of my own cut wrists. Hair of my binding, hair of my unbeautiful wanting, hair of his bitter words, hair of the cruel world, hair roping me to my father's belt, hair wrestling the taunts of baldheads in the street, hair of my lone self, hair wrapped atop the ghost woman in white's hair, red thread of hair, centuries of hair, galloping future of incorrigible hair, all cut away from me.

Of course we will send postcards to Nutsawoo. And we shall bring him back a present as well. In fact,' she went on, with the instinctive knack every good governess has for turning something enjoyable into a lesson, and vice versa, 'I will expect all three of you to practice your writing by keeping a journal of our trip so that Nutsawoo may know how we spend our days. Why, by the time we return, he will think he has been to London himself! He will be the envy of all his little squirrel friends,' she declared. Penelope had no way of knowing if this last statement was true. Could squirrels feel envy? Would they give two figs about London? Did Nutsawoo even have friends?

Next day Tarrou set to work and enrolled a first team of workers, soon to be followed by many others. However, it is not the narrator's intention to ascribe to these sanitary groups more importance than their due. Doubtless today many of our fellow citizens are apt to yield to the temptation of exaggerating the services they rendered. But the narrator is inclined to think that by attributing overimportance to praiseworthy actions one may, by implication, be paying indirect but potent homage to the worse side of human nature. For this attitude implies that such actions shine out as rare exceptions, while callousness and apathy are the general rule. The narrator does not share that view. The evil that is in the world always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn't the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill.