Kaws Quotes

Are you always this moody? If so, I think we need some sort of call . . . so I know when you’re not approachable.” He stares at me, lip curled in disgust. “Call?” “You know, like a bird call. Ka-kaw! Ka-kaw!” He blinks. “Are you fuckin’ nuts?

Lawrence has a wonderful hill in it, with a university on top and the first time I ran away from home, I ran up the hill and looked across the world: Kansas wheat fields and the Kaw River, and I wanted to go some place, too. I got a whipping for it.

Yesterday was history, today is challenging, and tomorrow will be destination

Be careful is better than never wrong.

If you procrastinate for today, nothing will be done for tomorrow.

The latter part of our Journey from the entrance of Wiltshire into Salisbury was very rough and abounded with Jolts, the Holes we were obliged to go through being very many and some of them Deep; and so it was with much Relief that we left the Coach at Salisbury and hired two Horses for the road across the Avon to the Plain and Stone-henge. When we came to the edge of this sacred Place, we tethered our Horses to the Posts provided and then, with the Sunne direct above us, walked over the short grass which (continually cropt by the flocks of Sheep) seemed to spring us forward to the great Stones. I stood back a little as Sir Chris. walked on, and I considered the Edifice with steadinesse: there was nothing here to break the Angles of Sight and as I gaz'd I opened my Mouth to cry out but my Cry was silent; I was struck by an exstatic Reverie in which all the surface of this Place seemed to me Stone, and the Sky itself Stone, and I became Stone as I joined the Earth which flew on like a Stone through the Firmament. And thus I stood until the Kaw of a Crow rous'd me: and yet even the call of the black Bird was an Occasion for Terrour, since it was not of this Time. I know not how long a Period I had traversed in my Mind, but Sir Chris. was still within my Sight when my Eyes were cleard of Mist. He was walking steadily towards the massie Structure and I rushed violently to catch him, for I greatly wished to enter the Circle before him. I stopped him with a Cry and then ran on: when Crows kaw more than ordinary, said I when I came up to him all out of Breath, we may expect Rain. Pish, he replied. He stopped to tye his Shooe, so then I flew ahead of him and first reached the Circle which was the Place of Sacrifice. And I bowed down.

Najbardziej lubię koniec grudnia, kiedy ciemno robi się o czwartej. Mogę włożyć pidżamę, łyknąć środek nasenny, położyć się do łóżka z butelką wina i książką. Tak żyję od lat. Słońce wstaje o dziewiątej, zanim człowiek się umyje i wypije parę kaw, robi się południe i trzeba przetrwać już tylko cztery godziny, co zazwyczaj udaje mi się bezboleśnie. Ale wiosna jest nie do zniesienia, niekończące się cudowne zachody słońca, jak w jakiejś pieprzonej operze, wciąż nowe kolory, nowe blaski; raz postanowiłem zostać tu przez całą wiosnę i lato; myślałem, że umrę, co wieczór byłem na skraju samobójstwa, przez ten zmrok, który godzinami nie chciał zapaść.

Vào năm 1966, tờ báo tên là Eastern Sun được tung ra bởi Aw Kow, con trai của một trong số anh em nhà Tiger Balm Aw và được biết là một tay chơi hơn là ông trùm báo chí nghiêm túc. Sau những thương lượng bí mật với các quan chức cấp cao của một cơ quan Cộng hòa Nhân dân Trung Hoa đóng ở Hong Kong, họ cho ông ta vay 3 triệu đôla Singapore với thời hạn trên năm năm cùng lãi suất buồn cười là 0,1% mỗi năm. Đổi lại, tờ báo này không được chống đối Cộng hòa Nhân dân Trung Hoa về những vấn đề chính yếu và sẽ giữ trung lập đối với những vấn đề thứ yếu. Tờ Eastern Sun bị lỗ lã nặng do quản lý yếu kém. Vào năm 1968, tờ báo này nhận thêm khoản trợ cấp 600.000 đôla Singapore. Vào năm 1971, chúng tôi phanh phui ra "quỹ đen" này được tài trợ bởi một thế lực nước ngoài. Aw Kaw thừa nhận điều đó là sự thật. Ban biên tập bị xúc phạm nên đã từ chức và tờ báo bị đóng cửa.

For to conceive the sum of Joseph’s efforts for master and steward one must add that he had every evening to say good-night to Mont-kaw, and every night in different phrases. For that service he had originally been bought; and Mont-kaw had been too favourably impressed with the first instance to forgo the pleasure in the sequel. He was a poor sleeper, as the pouches under his eyes betrayed. Only hardly did the overburdened brain relax from the occupations of the day and find the good highway to slumber. The kidneys too were bad and helped to make the transit difficult. So that he could well use a few sweet words and mellifluous murmurings at the end of the day. Thus Joseph might never neglect to come before him at night and drop soothing speech in his ears—which, besides everything else, had to be prepared during the day, for it must have comeliness of form.

Aralin sa Ekonomyang Pampulitika Nang matuklasan ng isang Aleman Ang labis na halaga, Ay nakalkula na rin Ang lahat-lahat na. Halaga ng tao Halaga ng lupa Halaga ng tula Halaga ng digma Kung sa loob pa lamang Ng tatlong minutong trabaho Ay nalilikha na ng manggagawa Ang buong araw niyang suweldo, Ang tantos ng pagsasamantala Ay ilang porsyento? Ay, ang labis na halaga — O pagpapahalaga — Sa superganansya’t supertubo! Binibilang ko ang mga bagay Na mahalaga sa akin: Bubong, saplot, araw-araw na kakanin. Binibilang ko ang araw At ako’y napapailing: Bawat minuto, Kinikita ng mga kumpanya ng langis Ang katumbas ng walong oras kong pawis. Bakit ba napakahalaga Ng paghahangad ng labis, Kung ang labis-labis, Ang katumbas ay krisis? Tinatantya ko kung kailan: 1. mapipigtas sa tanikala ng monopolyo ang pinakamahina nitong kawing 2. aawitin ng kapitalismo ang punebre sa sarili niyang libing. Pansamantala lamang ba ang pagsasamantala? Anu-ano ang mga pagkakataong Dapat nating samantalahin? Natuklasan din ng Aleman Na ang manggagawa ay walang bansa, At kanilang pakikibaka Ay walang baybayin. Kaya’t kinakalkula ko muna, Samantala, kung ano ang mahalaga Para sa araw-araw nating gawain. At kung gaano kahalaga, Mga kasama, ang pagkakaisa sa atin.

Ywa was neither man nor woman, and was not in a human form. Ywa was the creator of the world and a force for good. To balance Ywa there was also a force for evil, called Mu Kaw Lee. Ywa created three sons in human form. The eldest was a Karen, the second a Burman, and the youngest was a white man. To the Karen son Ywa gave a golden book, to the Burman a silver book, and to the white man Ywa gave a book bound in normal paper. When the rains began and the Karen son went to plant his rice field, he placed the golden book nearby, on a tree stump. But his youngest brother, the white man, had grown jealous and coveted his beautiful golden book. When the Karen man wasn’t looking the white man came along and took it, replacing it with his own. Then the white man built a boat and escaped to a far-off country. He carried his prize with him–the golden book that contained the teachings Ywa had given to his eldest son. After a long day working under the heavy rain, the Karen man went to fetch his golden book. The book that the white man had left in its place had fallen apart in the rain, and there was nothing left. A chicken had been scratching around the stump searching for food, and all the Karen man found was chicken scratch marks. He concluded that the golden book had been replaced by the scratch marks, and that those must embody the message that Ywa had left him. And so the Karen man taught himself to read and write in chicken scratch. Over time, he learned the truth about the golden book being stolen, but by then it was too late–chicken scratch had become the official language of the Karen. The Karen man wrote down the story of how the golden book was stolen, and the word of Ywa lost, in a new book. He called this book Li Hsaw Weh–‘the book of chicken scratch teachings’. Centuries later the first white missionaries came to Burma. Many Karen believed that this was the younger brother returning, bringing the golden book in the form of the Bible, and so they welcomed them. Many Karen believe this story absolutely, and that one day the younger brother–a white man–will come again to help save our people.

It was the season Ching Ming--clearness and brightness—when spirits returned from the netherworld, essences of all sorts abounded and filial sons journeyed home to their ancestral shrines to pay homage. The Wang widow, Siao lan, whose husband died on their wedding night, was on her third and final year of mourning. Her weeping-singing rent asunder the twilight calm, "O master, thou are cruel. O father, curse the day of my birth. Fate is a playful warlock. One day the fresh young bride, tomorrow, an empty-bowl widow.

For small Indian tribes, this policy was literally genocidal. One physician that “[a]ll the pureblood women of the Kaw tribe of Oklahoma have now been sterilized. At the end of the generation the tribe will cease to exist.

That creature my client saw. If you shot it through the heart.