Knowledge Is Like Underwear Quotes

Knowledge is like underwear. It is useful to have it, but not necessary to show it off.

Tomo did not join them. Kami saw that he had taken one of his violent fancies to Ash, the way he had taken to lemonade, Mr. Stearn’s bulldog, and his favorite toy race car that had burned with everything else in their house. He walked happily alongside Ash, holding on to his hand, and clearly wished for nothing more. Ash seemed alarmed to have been so firmly taken possession of by an eight-year-old. He and Tomo fell back a little, until they were walking with Jared and Kami. “I am so sad about my underwear,” Kami announced, and Ash looked as if he regretted all of his life decisions. “Not in front of the little boy!” he said reproachfully. “Anyway, you were saying that you would borrow clothes from Holly and Angela.” “I’m the third tallest in my class,” Tomo informed him, with the air of one out to impress. “And I know all about underwear.” “You heard the man,” said Kami. “Besides which, no. I cannot possibly borrow underclothes from Holly and Angela. Bras especially.” “I know,” said Jared. “Oh, you do, do you?” Kami inquired. “And how do you know, may I ask?” There was a slight flush along the lines of Jared’s cheekbones. “Observation.” It was probably sad that this cheered Kami up, but Jared usually seemed so wary about her body, the physical fact of it, that the simple knowledge that he had been looking did please her. She leaned back infinitesimally closer into the warm line of his arm around her shoulders, the warm line of his body against her side. “Kami, would you maybe stop mentioning your unmentionables,” Ash said, spoiling the moment. “I shall not,” Kami told him. “It’s a serious problem. I am, and I mean this absolutely literally, in need of support.” I’d suspect you of going funny in the head from smoke inhalation, said Ash, but you always talk like this.

Knowledge is like underwear. It is useful to have it, but not necessary to show it off.” -- Unknown

Not Your Stereotypical Southern Belle By Betsy Shearon, George Grits I grew up being more interested in scoring touchdowns than wearing tiaras. I never particularly wanted to get married and was well into my thirties before I even got engaged. And although I am a devoted aunt, the call of motherhood for me has always sounded strangely similar to the “Warning Will Robinson!” cry on the old Lost in Space television show. Still, I consider myself a true Southern Girl, simply because, as we say in the South, my mama done raised me right. I say, “yes, ma’am,” “no, sir,” “please” and “thank you.” I am respectful of my elders, even my great-aunt Ida Mable, whose food we were never allowed to eat at family reunions. (Suffice it to say that eccentricity not only runs in my family, it pretty much gallops.) I always wear clean underwear in case I am in an accident. And I always leave the house clean before I go on a trip in case I get killed and strangers have to come into my house to get my funeral wear (this is despite the fact that I have yet to read an obituary that said, “she left a husband, two children, and an immaculate house.”) And I know things that only Southern girls know, such as the fact that it is possible to “never talk to strangers and at the same time greet everyone you meet with a smile and a hello. I know that it is possible to “always tell the truth,” but to always answer “fine” when someone asks how you are--even if your hair is on fire at the time. It is this knowledge that allows us to turn the other cheek when people say ugly things like “Southern girls are stupid, barefoot and pregnant.” Southern girls realize that, given the swollen feet and ankles that accompany pregnancy, going barefoot when possible is actually a very smart and sensible thing to do--and that the Yankees who say things like that probably wouldn’t talk so ugly if their feet didn’t hurt, bless their hearts.

No, chides Michel. Not my words. Yours. There is no such thing as an impersonal insight. Borrowed truths fit about as well as borrowed underwear, and are just as icky. You either know something in your heart or you don’t know it at all. Live your life not as a standardized exam but, like Gandhi, as one grand experiment. In this sort of personal, lived philosophy, the goal is not abstract knowledge but personal truths: not to know that but simply to know. There’s an enormous difference. I know that love is an important human emotion and has many health benefits. I know I love my daughter.

He’s Vladimir Gorsky.” I hesitated before responding. I had no idea who Vladimir Gorsky was but was worried that Erica would judge me harshly for this gap in my knowledge. Unfortunately, Erica knew exactly why I’d hesitated. And then she judged me harshly for the gap in my knowledge. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Vladimir Gorsky.” “I haven’t,” I admitted. Erica sighed disdainfully, like I’d just told her I didn’t know the capital of America. “Really? Because he’s only one of the world’s most powerful men.” “Oh!” I said, trying to cover. “Vladimir Gorsky! Of course I know who he is. I thought you said Vladimir Borsky. . . .” “Stop trying to cover,” Erica told me. “Okay.” I grimaced, not merely because of Erica’s curt tone, but also because frigid mud had just seeped through my sweatpants and into my underwear.