Mayor Quotes

Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain.

The mayor stood, his surprise at her interruption apparent by his twitching mustache. “You—you can’t just burst in here. Who are you?

Cordelia: I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan. Oz: We attack the Mayor with hummus. Cordelia: I stand corrected. Oz: Just keeping things in perspective.

¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión, una sombra, una ficción, y el mayor bien es pequeño: que toda la vida es sueño, y los sueños, sueños son.

Phil, we're the laughing stock of the nation,"     said Hobbs Creek mayor to police chief, "We     have a cop who faints at the sight of blood!

Qué es la vida? Un frenesí. ¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión, una sombra, una ficción, y el mayor bien es pequeño: que toda la vida es sueño, y los sueños, sueños son

El mayor lujo de nuestra existencia, por miserable que sea, es que no sabemos los días que nos han tocado en suerte

Presidents, Senators, Congressmen, Governors, Mayors, Judges and Justices all fall prey to the Hitman.

Um, because you're loopier than Flacky McPsycho, Mayor of Crazytown?" "My databases show no record of this Crazytown of which you speak. A brain the size of an entire city burns inside me. My intelligence quotient is beyond the human scale. I would prefer if you did not refer to me in such a fashion." "Oh, poor baby. Did I hurt the mass-murdering psychopathic artificial intelligence's feelings?

You notice that he does not ask, Where am I?" says the Mayor's voice, moving out there, somewhere. "His first words are, Where is she? And his Noise says the same. Interesting.

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Peeta and me to shake hands. His are as solid and warm as those loaves of bread. Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it's just a nervous spasm. We turn back the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays. Oh well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do. Of course, the odds have not been very dependable of late.

Sois tres, tres como los soles, como las lunas, como los dioses y las diosas. En ese vinculo que hay entre vosotros esta vuestra fuerza... pero también vuestra mayor debilidad." Ha-Din

¿Qué es la vida? Un frenesí. ¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión, una sombra, una ficción; y el mayor bien es pequeño; que toda la vida es sueño, y los sueños, sueños son.

A veces la ignorancia puede convertirse en el mayor de los regalos.

Todos los mayores han sido primero niños. (Pero pocos lo recuerdan)

Pues el delito mayor del hombre es haber nacido.

I was only following orders," the Mayor mocks. "The refuge of scoundrels since the dawn of time.

The Doctor: Hello, I've come to see the Lord Mayor. Idris Hopper: Have you got an appointment? The Doctor: No, just an old friend passing by, bit of a surprise. Can't wait to see her face! Idris Hopper: Well, she's just having a cup of tea. The Doctor: Just go in there and tell her "the Doctor" would like to see her. Idris Hopper: "The Doctor" who? The Doctor: Just "The Doctor". Tell her exactly that, "The Doctor". Idris Hopper: Hang on a tic. [Idris goes inside. There is the sound of a teacup smashing and Idris returns.] Idris Hopper: The Lord Mayor says "thank you f-for popping by." She'd love to have a chat, but, um, she's up to her eyes in paperwork. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment for next week... The Doctor: [happily] She's climbing out the window, isn't she? Idris Hopper: Yes, she is.

You won't," says the Mayor, smiling again. "Everyone knows you aren't a killer, Todd." He pushes Viola forward again - She calls out from the pain of it - Viola, I think - Viola - I grit my teeth and raise the rifle - I cock it - And I say what's true - "I would kill to save her," I say.

Submit! Juliet's Joy screeches underneath him at no one in particular. "I've got to get a new horse," the Mayor mutters.

Good-bye, District Twelve. Good-bye, hanging tree and Hunger Games and Mayor Lipp. Someday something will kill me, but it won’t be you.

La literatura quizá hace a los seres humanos más aptos para la infelicidad, porque despierta unos apetitos y deseos que no pueden cumplirse, pero enriquece la sensibilidad de las personas y las da una comprensión mayor del mundo. Los hace…sentir mucho más aptos para la libertad.

I should have been a great many things, Mr Mayor

And I know I’ve lost. Everything is lost. Everything is over. “As the newly appointed President of this fair planet of ours,” the Mayor says, holding out his hands as if to show me the world for the first time,” let me be the very first to welcome you to its new capital city.” “Todd?” Viola whispers, her eyes closed. I hold her tightly to me. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. “I’m so sorry.” We’ve run right into a trap. We’ve run right off the end of the world. “Welcome,” says the Mayor,” to the New Prentisstown.

But what he's forgetting," she says. "What he's forgotting is that me and Todd, we ran halfway across this planet together, by ourselves. We beat his craziest preacher. We outran an entire army and survived being shot and beaten and chased and we bloody well stayed alive this whole time without being blown up or tortured to death or dying in battle or anything." She takes her hand of Lee so she's balancing just against me. "Me and Todd? Together against the Mayor?" She smiles. "He doesn't stand a chance.

Mayor: How horrible our Christmas will be! Jack Skellington: *No.* [the Mayor switches to his upset face] Jack Skellington: How *jolly*! Mayor: Oh. How *jolly* our Christmas will be

He glanced up as I entered, and for a moment, looked almost surprised. "Mr. Swift!" "Ta-da!" I exclaimed weakly. "You're still..." "Still not dead. That's me. It's my big party trick, still not being dead, gets them every time.

This is Night Vale. Our mayor once led an army of masked warriors from another dimension through magic doors to defeat an army of smiling blood-covered office workers. There is definitely, definitely another way.

I won't be a slave to the past. I'll love where I choose.

El mayor peligro en la tierra es el hombre, y cuando ya no exista habrá verdadera paz mundial.

Does it get heavy?" "Does what get heavy?" "That big head you lug around 24/7, 365." Sally patted Jen on the back. "It just seems like maybe your neck or back would begin to hurt at some point." "Wow, Sally. I'm impressed you aren't just going for a psychology degree! Right now you seem to be running for mayor of 'I think I'm funny' town.

Some folks want their luck buttered.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but paranoia was what tied it up in a sack and buried it in wet concrete.

It's the new me," I explained, waving my hands jazz-style in greeting. "Matthew Swift, Midnight fucking Mayor - I've got multicoloured highlighters and everything.

No hay mayor dolor en el infortunio que recordar el tiempo feliz.

Nothing is illegal if one hundred businessmen decide to do it. -Andrew Young, author, civil rights activist, US congressman, mayor, and UN ambassador (b. 1932)

Yo sueño que estoy aquí de estas prisiones cargado, y soñé que en otro estado más lisonjero me vi. ¿Qué es la vida? Un frenesí. ¿Qué es la vida? Una ilusión, una sombra, una ficción, y el mayor bien es pequeño: que toda la vida es sueño, y los sueños, sueños son.

Men don't ask other men if they're getting home OK, they just assume that beneath the frail, weak exterior lurks a muscle-building kung fu master fearless of ever being mugged.

VIOLA Cuz she's here - She came - She came for me - And she calls my name - And I feel her strength coursing thru my Noise like a fire - And the Mayor staggers back like he's been punched in the face by a row of houses - "Ah, yes," he grunts, his hand to his head. "Your tower of strength has arrived." "Todd!" I hear her call again - And I take it and I use it - Cuz I can feel her there, riding to the end of the world to find me, to save me if I needed saving - Which I did -

But for others, work can only be meaningful if its fundamental purpose is in things that would matter even if no one would pay you to care about them.

The Mayor's wrong - He's wrong forever and ever - It's not that you should never love something so much it can control you. It's that you need to love something that much so you can never be controlled.

Amazing, Yetta thought. Back home I couldn't have chosen my own husband. And here I'm thinking about choosing presidents, governors, mayors, laws...

She watched him stop to pat the mayor on the back. He stumbled a little in the crowd, and his left hand disappeared ever so briefly inside the mayor’s tuxedo pocket. It was over in a flash, a blink, a second. And Macey was quite certain she was the only person in the entire room to have seen it, but that was just as well. At least, Macey had seen enough. And at last, the boy made sense." — Double Crossed by Ally Carter

Before I became governor of the great state of Alaska, I was mayor of my hometown. And since our opponents in this presidential election seem to look down on that experience, let me explain to them what the job involves. I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a 'community organizer,' except that you have actual responsibilities.

El mayor “secreto” de las personas exitosas es que ellos sí hacen lo que todo mundo sabe que se tiene que hacer.

I shit on justice!” yelled the mayor, not caring if there were any voters under the window.

Y si, estás lejos. No es que no te tenga porque nada es realmente mío. Yo soy de apreciar las cosas, de encontrarle sentido o dárselo si no lo tienen. Ahora que estás lejos, sólo me queda contemplarte. Verte ser feliz con quién quieras, con lo que quieras. Agradecer que alguna vez esa sonrisa fue para mí, que esas manos han tocado las mías y que esos labios una vez hicieron el amor conmigo. Así sea en palabras. Y si, estás lejos, ¿qué importa si lo estás? De esa manera, rodeas también mi vida, a una órbita mayor por supuesto, ¿pero qué importa? Pues de esa manera te conviertes en mi paisaje. Y es así como llego amar a tu ausencia.

She had learned the lesson of renunciation and was as familiar with the wreck of each day's wishes as with the diurnal setting of the sun.

Her companion, also in black, appeared as a well-formed young woman about 18, completely possessed of that ephemeral precious essence youth, which is itself beauty, irrespective of complexion or contour.

Life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us; so be quick to love, make haste to be kind, and go in peace to follow the good road of blessing.

-Sé arreglar mis problemas solita. Y seguro que tú tienes muchos otros. Céntrate en ellos. -Lamento decirte que tú eres el mayor de ellos. -Cada vez me dices cosas más bonitas. ¿Ahora soy tu problema? -Pero eres mi problema favorito

Prefería mantenerme el mayor tiempo posible en esa zona de incertidumbre en la que caben todas las posibilidades, a obtener una respuesta rotunda y negativa.

At the last parent visitation night I'd sorta accidentally watched a majorly nightmarish scene between Aphrodite and her parents. Her dad's the mayor of Tulsa. Her mom might be Satan.

Where are you going, Master?' cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening. 'To the Havens, Sam,' said Frodo. 'And I can't come.' 'No, Sam. Not yet, anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.' 'But,' said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, 'I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.' 'So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger, and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part in the Story goes on. 'Come now, ride with me!

I was learning about journalism, and I was learning about politics. I discovered there was plenty of politics in journalism, dumping a story, a great story, to keep the Mayor happy. I heard Coach Michael’s voice in my head: ‘You can’t run and gun, girl.’ Mitch’s voice: ‘You can’t wear that bikini, girl.’ Even Janice’s voice: ‘You can’t tell anyone, ever.’ Can’t. Can’t. Can’t. That’s why I wasn’t going to back down (about killing the story).

Why are we sitting way back here?" "This way we can see the whole room and do some recon." "Great, here we go with the black op lingo. Were you a Navy SEAL or some special forces officer in a past life?" Sally asked. "It's a gift. It comes so naturally that you think I've had formal training." Jen winked. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking. And, by the way, Hogwarts accepted you and is awaiting your arrival." "Ha ha, good one," Jen said dryly. "You have my vote – you'll be mayor in no time.

Never argue with the surreal; there's no winning against irrationality.

If you believe in a cause, be willing to stand up for that cause with a million people or by yourself.

I’ve got so much inside me I have no idea about. I’m like the mayor of a city I’ve never seen.” He smiles at my phrasing. “If you knew the kind of little miracles happening every moment you breathe in, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. A valve could close and not open; an artery could split, you could die. At any moment. It’s nothing but miracles inside your tiny city.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Holy shit.” I clutch at him. “You wouldn’t believe the stats on people who go to bed one night and never wake up. Normal, healthy people who aren’t even old.” “Why would you tell me this? Is this what you think about?” There’s the longest pause. “I used to. Not so much anymore.” “I think I preferred it when I thought I was full of white bones and red goo. Why am I now thinking about dying tonight?” “Now you see why I can’t do small talk. 

When last I checked, you were a sorcerer, not a Jedi." "You've seen Star Wars?" "Seen it and denounced it." "You've denounced Star Wars?" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Hollywood should not glorify witches." "I think you've missed the point..." "I also denounce Harry Potter." "Really?" "Yes." "Because..." "...because literature, especially children's literature, should not glorify witches." "Oda, what do you do for fun?" She thought about it, then said, without a jot of humor, "I denounce things.

Life is an oasis which is submerged in the swirling waves of sorrows and agonies.

She had the hard, half-apathetic expression of one who deems anything possible at the hands of time and chance, except perhaps fair play

And so it happened, that when others bent their knee, he refused and added loudly that his ancestors in their time bowed no knee to any stinking mayor. And in his ancestors’ time the mayor was elected anyhow, and kicked out at will, and that the only people that inherited anything by right of birth were the congenital idiots.

The Joker: I just did what I do best. I took your little plan and I turned it on itself. Look what I did to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets. Hmmm? You know... You know what I've noticed? Nobody panics when things go "according to plan." Even if the plan is horrifying! If, tomorrow, I tell the press that, like, a gang banger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics, because it's all "part of the plan". But when I say that one little old mayor will die, well then everyone loses their minds. Introduce a little anarchy. Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I'm an agent of chaos. Oh, and you know the thing about chaos? It's fair!

La libertad, Sancho, es uno de los más preciosos dones que a los hombres dieron los cielos; con ella no pueden igualarse los tesoros que encierra la tierra ni el mar encubre; por la libertad, así como por la honra, se puede y debe aventurar la vida, y, por el contrario, el cautiverio es el mayor mal que puede venir a los hombres.

Dearest creature in creation, Study English pronunciation. I will teach you in my verse Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. I will keep you, Suzy, busy, Make your head with heat grow dizzy. Tear in eye, your dress will tear. So shall I! Oh hear my prayer. Just compare heart, beard, and heard, Dies and diet, lord and word, Sword and sward, retain and Britain. (Mind the latter, how it’s written.) Now I surely will not plague you With such words as plaque and ague. But be careful how you speak: Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; Cloven, oven, how and low, Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe. Hear me say, devoid of trickery, Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, Exiles, similes, and reviles; Scholar, vicar, and cigar, Solar, mica, war and far; One, anemone, Balmoral, Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; Gertrude, German, wind and mind, Scene, Melpomene, mankind. Billet does not rhyme with ballet, Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. Blood and flood are not like food, Nor is mould like should and would. Viscous, viscount, load and broad, Toward, to forward, to reward. And your pronunciation’s OK When you correctly say croquet, Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve, Friend and fiend, alive and live. Ivy, privy, famous; clamour And enamour rhyme with hammer. River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb, Doll and roll and some and home. Stranger does not rhyme with anger, Neither does devour with clangour. Souls but foul, haunt but aunt, Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant, Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger, And then singer, ginger, linger, Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge, Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age. Query does not rhyme with very, Nor does fury sound like bury. Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth. Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath. Though the differences seem little, We say actual but victual. Refer does not rhyme with deafer. Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer. Mint, pint, senate and sedate; Dull, bull, and George ate late. Scenic, Arabic, Pacific, Science, conscience, scientific. Liberty, library, heave and heaven, Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven. We say hallowed, but allowed, People, leopard, towed, but vowed. Mark the differences, moreover, Between mover, cover, clover; Leeches, breeches, wise, precise, Chalice, but police and lice; Camel, constable, unstable, Principle, disciple, label. Petal, panel, and canal, Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal. Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair, Senator, spectator, mayor. Tour, but our and succour, four. Gas, alas, and Arkansas. Sea, idea, Korea, area, Psalm, Maria, but malaria. Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean. Doctrine, turpentine, marine. Compare alien with Italian, Dandelion and battalion. Sally with ally, yea, ye, Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key. Say aver, but ever, fever, Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver. Heron, granary, canary. Crevice and device and aerie. Face, but preface, not efface. Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass. Large, but target, gin, give, verging, Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging. Ear, but earn and wear and tear Do not rhyme with here but ere. Seven is right, but so is even, Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen, Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk, Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work. Pronunciation (think of Psyche!) Is a paling stout and spikey? Won’t it make you lose your wits, Writing groats and saying grits? It’s a dark abyss or tunnel: Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale, Islington and Isle of Wight, Housewife, verdict and indict. Finally, which rhymes with enough, Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough? Hiccough has the sound of cup. My advice is to give up!!!

Todd!” she says again but this time in a way that asks me to look at her and I do and she stops Angharrad at the edge of the square and she’s looking at me, looking right into my eyes– And I read her– And I know exactly what she’s thinking– And my Noise and my heart and my head fill up fit to burst, fill up like I’m gonna explode– Cuz she’s saying– She’s saying with her eyes and her face and her whole self– “I know,” I say back to her, my voice husky. “Me, too.” And then I turn to the Mayor and I’m filled with her, with her love for me and my love for her– And it makes me big as an effing mountain– And I take it and I slam all of it into the Mayor–

When Rudy Giuliani became mayor of New York in 1993, his belief in the 'Broken Windows' theory led him to implement the 'Zero Tolerance' crime policy. Crime dropped dramatically, significantly, and continued to for the next ten years. Personally, I feel the time has come for women to introduce their own Zero Tolerance policy on the Broken Windows issues in our lives - I want a Zero Tolerance policy on 'All The Patriarchal Bullshit'.

Jerome sighed and set down his fork. "Are you still doing that, Georgie? Don't I suffer enough without having to endure the humiliation of a succubus who moonlights as a Christmas elf?" "You always said I should quit the bookstore and find something else to do," I reminded him. "Yes, but that was because I thought you'd go on to do something respectable. Like become a stripper or the Mayor's mistress.

I had a feeling once about Mathematics - that I saw it all. Depth beyond depth was revealed to me - the Byss and Abyss. I saw - as one might see the transit of Venus or even the Lord Mayor's Show - a quantity passing through infinity and changing its sign from plus to minus. I saw exactly why it happened and why the tergiversation was inevitable but it was after dinner and I let it go.

Or perhaps we should just ask Todd." I pound the glass right at his face. He doesn't even flinch. And then she says, "Todd would never tell you. Never." And the Mayor just looks at me. And he smiles My stomach sinks, my heart drops, my head feels so light I feel like I'm going to drop right to the ground. Oh, Viola- Viola, please- Forgive me. "Captain Hammar," the Mayor says and Viola's plunged into the water again, unable to not scream out in fright as down she goes. "NO!" I shout, pressing myself against the mirror. But the Mayor ain't even looking at her. He's looking right at me, as if he could see me even if I was behind a brick wall. "STOP IT!" I shout as she's thrashing again- And more- And more- "VIOLA!" And I'm pounding even tho my hands are breaking- And Mr. Hammar is grinning and holding her there- "VIOLA!" And her wrist are starting to bleed from where she's pulling- "I'LL KILL YOU!"- I'm shouting into the Mayor's face- With all my Noise- "I'LL KILL YOU!"- And still holding her there- "VIOLA! VIOLA!"- But it's Davy- Of all people- It's Davy who stops it.

Le dije que me gustaba, y quedé insatisfecha. La verdad era que a veces no me gustaba nada, pero no podía vivir sin ella. Le dije que la quería, pero también quiero a mi perro. Después le dije que la amaba, pero mi incomodidad fue mayor aún [...] decidí prescindir del lenguaje, entonces me acusó de no querer comunicarme. Desde hace unos años, sólo existe el silencio. Encuentro, en él, una rara ecuanimidad: la de los placeres solitarios.

No te amo. Amo a mi familia y tal vez a Casey y Jessica, pero el amor romántico lleva años y años en aparecer. Entonces no te amo. Pero admitiré que he pensado mucho en ti últimamente y definitivamente tengo sentimientos por ti… Otros sentimientos además de odio mayormente. Y tal vez es posible que en el futuro pueda amarte. Pero todavía quiero matarte la mayor parte del tiempo.

Paranoia seems more reasonable when you've got twelve stitches in your side.

Quizá la mayor facultad que posee nuestra mente sea la capacidad de sobrellevar el dolor. El pensamiento clásico nos enseña las cuatro puertas de la mente, por las que cada uno pasa según sus necesidades. La primera puerta es la puerta del sueño. El sueño nos ofrece un refugio del mundo y de todo su dolor. El sueño marca el paso del tiempo y nos proporciona distancia de las cosas que nos han hecho daño. Cuando una persona resulta herida, suele perder el conocimiento. Y cuando alguien recibe una noticia traumática, suele desvanecerse o desmayarse. Así es como la mente se protege del dolor: pasando por la primera puerta. La segunda es la puerta del olvido. Algunas heridas son demasiado profundas para curarse, o para curarse deprisa. Además, muchos recuerdos son dolorosos, y no hay curación posible. El dicho de que <> es falso. El tiempo cura la mayoría de las heridas. El resto están escondidas detrás de esa puerta. La tercera es la puerta de la locura. A veces, la mente recibe un golpe tan brutal que se esconde en la demencia. Puede parecer que eso no sea beneficioso, pero lo es. A veces, la realidad es solo dolor, y para huir de ese dolor, la mente tiene que abandonar la realidad. La última puerta es la de la muerte. El último recurso. Después de morir, nada puede hacernos daño, o eso nos han enseñado.

Simone! Are you all right? Simone!" And a voice, grunting with pain, says, "Todd?" And- And it ain't Simone's voice. The smoke starts to clear. And it ain't Simone. "You saved me, Todd," says the Mayor, lying there, bad burns all over his face and hands, his clothes smoking like a brush fire. "You saved my life." And his eyes are full of wonder of it- That in the rush of the explozhun the person I chose to save- The one I chose without even thinking- (without there even being time for him to control me-) (no time for him to make me do it-) Was the Mayor.

Todo es una actuación. Ellos se burlan de los demás y se meten con los solitarios sólo para poder encajar. Y yo no estoy mucho mejor. Puede que parezca confiada y habladora, pero paso la mayor parte de mi tiempo riéndome de chistes que no me parecen graciosos, diciendo cosas que realmente no quiero decir. Porque al fin y al cabo eso es lo que todos estamos tratando de hacer: encajar, de una u otra manera tratando desesperadamente de fingir que todos somos iguales.

A sombrero fell out of the sky and landed on the main street of town in front of the mayor, his cousin, and a person out of work. The day was scrubbed clean by the desert air. The sky was blue. It was the blue of human eyes, waiting for something to happen. There was no reason for a sombrero to fall out of the sky. No airplane or helicopter was passing overhead and it was not a religious holiday.

I want to set the example my mother set for me: a strong female role model who faces challenges takes risks and conquers fears. I want my children to know that as women they can do whatever they dream as long as they believe in themselves. More than anything it is my responsibility to instill in my daughters the knowledge that they can have a family and everything else too.

But then I think Viola - I think of her out there - And I push it back - I feel my hands on the floor - I use them to rise to my knees - I lift my head - To see the Mayor's surprised face only a yard or so away, coming toward me, something in his hand- "Goodness," he says, sounding almost cheerful. "Even stronger than I thought.

She had been too early habituated to anxious reasoning to drop the habit suddenly.

Good policy, like good literature, takes personal lived experience as its starting point. At its best, the practice of politics is about taking steps that support people in daily life—or tearing down obstacles that get in their way. Much of the confusion and complication of ideological battles might be washed away if we held our focus on the lives that will be made better, or worse, by political decisions, rather than on the theoretical elegance of the policies or the character of the politicians themselves.

Her experience had been of a kind to teach her, rightly or wrongly, that the doubtful honor of a brief transit through a sorry world hardly called for effusiveness, even when the path was suddenly irradiated at some half-way point by daybeams rich as hers. But her strong sense that neither she nor any human being deserved less than was given, did not blind her to the fact that there were others receiving less who had deserved much more. And in being forced to class herself among the fortunate she did not cease to wonder at the persistence of the unforeseen, when the one to whom such unbroken tranquility had been accorded in the adult stage was she whose youth had seemed to teach that happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain.

Si dejas obra, muere tranquilo, confiando en unos pocos buenos amigos. Nunca permitas que te vuelvan persona mayor, hombre respetable. Nunca dejes de ser niño, aunque tengas los ojos en la nuca y se te empiecen a caer los dientes. Tus padres te tuvieron. Que tus padres te alimenten siempre, y págales con mala moneda. A mi qué. Jamás ahorres. Nunca te vuelvas una persona seria. Haz de la irreflexión y de la contradicción tu norma de conducta. Elimina las treguas recoge tu hogar en el daño, el exceso y la tembladera. Todo es tuyo. A todo tienes derecho y cóbralo caro.

Ópalo y Ámbar forman el primer par, Ágata canta en si, del lobo el avatar, Dueto —¡Solutio!— con Aguamarina. Siguen poderosas las Esmeralda y la Citrina, los gemelos cornalina en Escorpión, y Jade, el número 8, digestión. En mi mayor: negra Turmalina, Zafiro en fa se ilumina. Y casi al mismo tiempo el Diamante, 11 y 7, del León rampante. ¡Projectio llega! Fluye el tiempo, Y Rubí constituye el final y el comienzo. De los Escritos secretos del conde de Saint Germain.

Yo no sé si os habréis dado cuenta, pero a menudo las primeras impresiones son absolutamente equivocadas. Por ejemplo, puedes mirar un cuadro por primera vez y que no te guste nada, pero, después de mirarlo un rato, te puede parecer muy agradable. La primera vez que pruebas el queso gorgonzola te puede parecer demasiado fuerte, pero, cuando eres mayor, es posible que no quieras comer otra cosa que queso gorgonzola.

Draft-dodging is what chicken-hawks do best. Dick Cheney, Glenn Beck, Karl Rove, Rush Limbaugh (this capon claimed he had a cyst on his fat ass), Newt Gingrich, former Attorney General John Ashcroft—he received seven deferments to teach business education at Southwest Missouri State—pompous Bill O’Reilly, Jeb Bush, hey, throw in John Wayne—they were all draft-dodgers. Not a single one of these mouth-breathing, cowardly, and meretricious buffoons fought for his country. All plumped for deferments. Former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani? Did not serve. Former Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney? Did not serve in the military. (He served the Mormon Church on a thirty-month mission to France.) Former Senator Fred Thompson? Did not serve. Former President Ronald Reagan? Due to poor eyesight, he served in a noncombat role making movies for the Army in southern California during WWII. He later seems to have confused his role as an actor playing a tail gunner with the real thing. Did Rahm Emanuel serve? Yes, he did during the Gulf War 1991—in the Israeli Army. John Boehner did not serve, not a fucking second. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, R-KY? Not a minute! Former Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, R-MS? Avoided the draft. Senate Minority Whip Jon Kyl, R-AZ—did not serve. National Republican Senatorial Committee Chair John Cornyn, R-TX—did not serve. Former Senate Republican Policy Committee Chair John Ensign, R-NV? Did not serve. Jack Kemp? Dan Quayle? Never served a day. Not an hour. Not an afternoon. These are the jackasses that cherish memorial services and love to salute and adore hearing “Taps.

Mira a todos a tu alrededor y ve lo que hemos hecho de nosotros y de eso considerado como victoria nuestra de cada día. No hemos amado por encima de todas las cosas. No hemos aceptado lo que no se entiende porque no queremos pasar por tontos. Hemos amontonado cosas y seguridades por no tenernos el uno al otro. No tenemos ninguna alegría que no haya sido catalogada. Hemos construido catedrales y nos hemos quedado del lado de afuera, pues las catedrales que nosotros mismos construimos tememos que sean trampas. No nos hemos entregado a nosotros mismos, pues eso sería el comienzo de una vida larga y la tememos. Hemos evitado caer de rodillas delante del primero de nosotros que por amor diga: tienes miedo. Hemos organizado asociaciones y clubs sonrientes donde se sirve con o sin soda. Hemos tratado de salvarnos, pero sin usar la palabra salvación para no avergonzarnos de ser inocentes. No hemos usado la palabra amor para no tener que reconocer su contextura de odio, de amor, de celos y de tantos otros opuestos. Hemos mantenido en secreto nuestra muerte para hacer posible nuestra vida. Muchos de nosotros hacen arte por no saber cómo es la otra cosa. Hemos disfrazado con falso amor nuestra indiferencia, sabiendo que nuestra indiferencia es angustia disfrazada. Hemos disfrazado con el pequeño miedo el gran miedo mayor y por eso nunca hablamos de lo que realmente importa. Hablar de lo que realmente importa es considerado una indiscreción. No hemos adorado por tener la sensata mezquindad de acordarnos a tiempo de los falsos dioses. No hemos sido puros e ingenuos para no reírnos de nosotros mismos y para que al fin del día podamos decir «al menos no fui tonto» y así no quedarnos perplejos antes de apagar la luz. Hemos sonreído en público de lo que no sonreiríamos cuando nos quedásemos solos. Hemos llamado debilidad a nuestro candor. Nos hemos temido uno al otro, por encima de todo. Y todo eso lo consideramos victoria nuestra de cada día.

Augustus Waters was the Mayor of the Secret City of Cancervania, and he is not replaceable", Isaac began. "Other people will be able to tell you funny stories about Gus, because he was a funny guy, but let me tell you a serious one: A day after I got my eye cut out, Gus showed up at the hospital. I was blind and heartbroken and dind't want to do anything and Gus burst into my room and shouted, 'I have wonderful news!' And I was like, 'I don't really want to hear wonderful news right now' and Gus said, 'This is wonderful news you want to hear' and I asked him, 'Fine, what is it?' and he said, 'You're going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments that you cannot even imagine yet!'" Isaac couldn't go on, or maybe that was all he had written.

Halloween es la festividad más misteriosa, carnal y diabólica que existe. Yo me reía de aquellos que celebraban Halloween cambiando su identidad por una noche, y de los que se llamaban brujos por bailar delante de una fogata en un campo o un bosque bajo la luna llena. Para mí eran tontos, como niños jugando con fósforos, sin darse cuenta de que aquello con lo que jugaban tenía poder para matar. Yo conocía el verdadero significado de esa negra festividad: Halloween es la noche en que uno puede contar con el mayor número de poderes demoníacos para matar y destruir a las personas que odia. La

De pronto, tuve una horrible certeza. Por más tiempo que viviera, jamás podría esperar una felicidad mayor que la que sentía en aquel momento. Lo único que podía hacer era intentar conservarla para siempre. Me horrorizó la felicidad que sentía. Si la porción de dicha que corresponde a cada uno estaba fijada de antemano, en aquellos instantes quizá estuviera agotando la parte que a mí me correspondía para mi vida entera, Y, algún día, los mensajeros de la luna me arrebatarían a mi princesa. Entonces sólo me quedaría un tiempo tan largo como la vida eterna.

Not being able to swipe into the subway when people are backing up behind you. Waiting for him at the bar. Leaving your purse open on a stool with a mess of bills visible. Mispronouncing the names while presenting French wines. Your clogs slipping on the waxed floors. The way your arms shoot out and you tense your face when you almost fall. Taking your job seriously. Watching the sex scene from Dirty Dancing on repeat and eating a box of gingersnaps for dinner on your day off. Forgetting your stripes, your work pants, your socks. Mentally mapping the bar for corners where you might catch him alone. Getting drunker faster than everyone else. Not knowing what foie gras is. Not knowing what you think about abortion. Not knowing what a feminist is. Not knowing who the mayor is. Throwing up between your feet on the subway stairs. On a Tuesday. Going back for thirds at family meal. Excruciating diarrhea in the employee bathroom. Hurting yourself when you hit your head on the low pipe. Refusing to leave the bar though it's over, completely over. Bleeding in every form. Beer stains on your shirt, grease stains on your jeans, stains in every form. Saying you know where something is when you have absolutely no idea where it is. At some point, I leveled out. Everything stopped being embarrassing.

Who told you that?" I say. "Davy Prentiss?" He blinks. "What?" "What do you mean what?" My voice is harder now. "Your new best friend. The man who shot me, Todd, and who you ride to work with laughing every morning." He clenches his hands into fists. "You've been spying on me?" he says. "Three months I don't see you, three months I don't hear nothing from you and you been spying? Is that what yer doing in your spare time when yer not blowing people up?" "Yeah," I yell, my voice getting louder to match his. "Three months of defending you to people who'd only be too happy to call you enemy, Todd. Three months of wondering why the hell you're working so hard for the Mayor and how he knew to go right for the ocean the day after we spoke." He winces, but I keep going, thrusting out my arm and pulling up on the sleeve. "Three months wondering why you put these on women!" His face changes in an instant. He actually calls out as if he felt the pain himself. He puts a hand to his mouth to stifle it but his Noise is suddenly washed with blackness. He moves his fingertips of his other hand within reach of the band, hovering over my skin, over the band that'll never be removed unless I lose my arm. The skin is still red, and band 1391 still trobs, despite the healing of three mistresses. "Oh, no," he says. "Oh, no." The side door opens and the man who let me in leans out. "Everything all right out there, Lieutenant?" "Lieutenant?" I say. "We're fine," Todd chokes a little. "We're fine." The man waits for a second, then goes back inside. "Lieutenant?" I say again, lowering my voice. Todd's leant down, his hands on his knees, staring at the floor. "It wasn't me, was it?" he says, his voice quiet, too. "I didn't-" He gestures again at the band without looking up. "I didn't do it without knowing it was you, did I?

Leía mucho. Pero con la lectura pasa lo mismo, ya sabes… sólo obtienes algo de los libros si eres capaz de poner algo tuyo en lo que estás leyendo. Quiero decir que sólo si te aproximas al libro con el ánimo dispuesto a herir y ser herido en el duelo de la lectura, a polemizar, a convencer y ser convencido, y luego, una vez enriquecido con lo que has aprendido, a emplearlo en construir algo en la vida o en el trabajo” La mayor parte de la gente no puede dar ni recibir amor porque es cobarde y orgullosa, porque tiene miedo al fracaso” … a veces las personas son buenas porque no tienen inhibiciones que les impiden actuar con maldad. … Y luego están los que son buenos porque son demasiado cobardes para ser malos” El burgués tiene que estar toda la vida demostrando quién es. El aristócrata ya ha demostrado quién es en el momento de nacer” No me gusta entregarme a los sentimientos…pero el sentimiento de la amistad es mucho más complicado y delicado que el del amor” Ya ves lo ingenuos que somos. Tendemos a creer que los asuntos propios, los verdaderos, son acontecimientos de relevancia mundial” No es cierto que el sufrimiento nos purifique y nos haga mejores, más sabios y comprensivos. Nos vuelve demasiado lúcidos, fríos e indiferentes” Y entonces te das cuenta de que ésa es la verdadera venganza, la única, la perfecta: ya no quieres saber nada de él, no le deseas nada malo ni nada bueno, ya no puede hacerte sufrir

My name is Matthew Swift. I’m a sorcerer, the only one in the city who survived Robert Bakker’s purge. I was killed by my teacher’s shadow and my body dissolved into telephone static and all they had left to bury was a bit of blood. Then we came back, and I am we and we are me, and we are the blue electric angels, creatures of the phones and the wires, the gods made from the surplus life you miserable excuse for mortals pour into all things electric. I am the Midnight Mayor, the protector of the city, the guardian of the night, the keeper of the gates, the watcher on the walls. We turned back the death of cities, we were there when Lady Neon died, we drove the creature called Blackout into the shadows at the end of the alleys, we are light, we are life, we are fire and, would you believe it, the word that best describes our condition right now is cranky. Would you like to see what happens when you make us mad?

Hombres necios que acusáis a la mujer sin razón, sin ver que sois la ocasión de lo mismo que culpáis: si con ansia sin igual solicitáis su desdén, ¿por qué queréis que obren bien si las incitáis al mal? Cambatís su resistencia y luego, con gravedad, decís que fue liviandad lo que hizo la diligencia. Parecer quiere el denuedo de vuestro parecer loco el niño que pone el coco y luego le tiene miedo. Queréis, con presunción necia, hallar a la que buscáis, para pretendida, Thais, y en la posesión, Lucrecia. ¿Qué humor puede ser más raro que el que, falto de consejo, él mismo empaña el espejo, y siente que no esté claro? Con el favor y desdén tenéis condición igual, quejándoos, si os tratan mal, burlándoos, si os quieren bien. Siempre tan necios andáis que, con desigual nivel, a una culpáis por crüel y a otra por fácil culpáis. ¿Pues como ha de estar templada la que vuestro amor pretende, si la que es ingrata, ofende, y la que es fácil, enfada? Mas, entre el enfado y pena que vuestro gusto refiere, bien haya la que no os quiere y quejaos en hora buena. Dan vuestras amantes penas a sus libertades alas, y después de hacerlas malas las queréis hallar muy buenas. ¿Cuál mayor culpa ha tenido en una pasión errada: la que cae de rogada, o el que ruega de caído? ¿O cuál es más de culpar, aunque cualquiera mal haga: la que peca por la paga, o el que paga por pecar? Pues ¿para qué os espantáis de la culpa que tenéis? Queredlas cual las hacéis o hacedlas cual las buscáis. Dejad de solicitar, y después, con más razón, acusaréis la afición de la que os fuere a rogar. Bien con muchas armas fundo que lidia vuestra arrogancia, pues en promesa e instancia juntáis diablo, carne y mundo.

So let’s talk a little about April May’s theory of tiered fame. Tier 1: Popularity You are a big deal in your high school or neighborhood. You have a peculiar vehicle that people around town recognize, you are a pastor at a medium-to-large church, you were once the star of the high school football team. Tier 2: Notoriety You are recognized and/or well-known within certain circles. Maybe you’re a preeminent lepidopterist whom all the other lepidopterists idolize. Or you could be the mayor or meteorologist in a medium-sized city. You might be one of the 1.1 million living people who has a Wikipedia page. Tier 3: Working-Class Fame A lot of people know who you are and they are distributed around the world. There’s a good chance that a stranger will approach you to say hi at the grocery store. You are a professional sports player, musician, author, actor, television host, or internet personality. You might still have to hustle to make a living, but your fame is your job. You’ll probably trend on Twitter if you die. Tier 4: True Fame You get recognized by fans enough that it is a legitimate burden. People take pictures of you without your permission, and no one would scoff if you called yourself a celebrity. When you start dating someone, you wouldn’t be surprised to read about it in magazines. You are a performer, politician, host, or actor whom the majority of people in your country would recognize. Your humanity is so degraded that people are legitimately surprised when they find out that you’re “just like them” because, sometimes, you buy food. You never have to worry about money again, but you do need a gate with an intercom on your driveway. Tier 5: Divinity You are known by every person in your world, and you are such a big deal that they no longer consider you a person. Your story is much larger than can be contained within any human lifetime, and your memory will continue long after your earthly form wastes away. You are a founding father of a nation, a creator of a religion, an emperor, or an idea. You are not currently alive.

Ponerse en los “zapatos del otro” Ponerse en los “zapatos del otro”, es un buen sistema para poder leer la mente. A menudo nos cruzamos con personas que no entendemos, y que no podemos llegar a comprender la coherencia de sus palabras, actos y reacciones. ¿No les pasó?… Seguramente pensaron en estos casos: ¡qué ganas de poder leerle la mente para entender por qué actúa de esta forma!!!… Creo que la principal razón por la cual no llegamos a comprender del todo en estos casos, es que tratamos de hacerlo utilizando nuestros propios esquemas mentales; en otras palabras, tratamos de entender a esta persona de acuerdo a nuestra forma de pensar, sentir, actuar y -en definitiva- vivir… Y ese es un error, si es que queremos entender realmente qué le está pasando por su cabeza. Si bien hay esquemas mentales similares y que se repinten, cada ser humano es diferente a otro. Sus vivencias, experiencias, familia, educación, valores, todo, absolutamente todo, influye en cómo actúa alguien, en incluso -a veces- hasta casi lo determina. Probemos entonces ponernos realmente en sus zapatos. Analicen, averigüen, piensen y observen… Traten de colocarse en su pellejo. Esto no significa qué harían ustedes en su lugar (si bien este es también un parámetro valido, a veces confunde en estos casos), sino, tratar de entender cómo funciona su mente, quién es y de dónde viene, cómo es su personalidad, cómo actúo anteriormente en casos similares, qué necesidades tiene, cuáles son sus objetivos, inquietudes e intereses, tiene condicionantes externos que lo están afectando, etc., etc., etc… Sé que suena algo de Perogrullo y sabido, pero les aseguro que un una herramienta ¡I M P R E S I O N A N T E M E N T E PODEROSA! Al fin y al cabo, los mayores secretos para lograr algo con éxito generalmente son sonsos y de conocimiento público, lo difícil es tener la conciencia real de lo importante que son y saber aplicarlos adecuadamente. La importancia de “ponerse en los zapatos del otro” se estudia en el Mundo, hay ejercicios bien concretos que demuestran su potencialidad. De hecho, yo tuve real dimensión de todo esto, con ejercicios que hice en Harvard cuando estudié Negociación. Uno, cuando logra comprender verdaderamente a alguien, se le abre un mundo nuevo de posibilidades respecto de esta persona. Es una herramienta con una potencialidad impresionante, así que úsenla con cuidado y prudencia… ¡Pruebelo y me cuentan! Espero respuestas… Gonzalo GUMA

SEGISMUNDO: ¡Ay mísero de mí, y ay infelice! Apurar, cielos, pretendo, ya que me tratáis así, qué delito cometí contra vosotros naciendo. Aunque si nací, ya entiendo qué delito he cometido; bastante causa ha tenido vuestra justicia y rigor, pues el delito mayor del hombre es haber nacido. Sólo quisiera saber para apurar mis desvelos -dejando a una parte, cielos, el delito del nacer-, ¿qué más os pude ofender, para castigarme más? ¿No nacieron los demás? Pues si los demás nacieron, ¿qué privilegios tuvieron que no yo gocé jamás? Nace el ave, y con las galas que le dan belleza suma, apenas es flor de pluma, o ramillete con alas, cuando las etéreas salas corta con velocidad, negándose a la piedad del nido que dejan en calma; ¿y teniendo yo más alma, tengo menos libertad? Nace el bruto, y con la piel que dibujan manchas bellas, apenas signo es de estrellas -gracias al docto pincel-, cuando, atrevido y cruel, la humana necesidad le enseña a tener crueldad, monstruo de su laberinto; ¿y yo, con mejor instinto, tengo menos libertad? Nace el pez, que no respira, aborto de ovas y lamas, y apenas bajel de escamas sobre las ondas se mira, cuando a todas partes gira, midiendo la inmensidad de tanta capacidad como le da el centro frío; ¿y yo, con más albedrío, tengo menos libertad? Nace el arroyo, culebra que entre flores se desata, y apenas sierpe de plata, entre las flores se quiebra, cuando músico celebra de las flores la piedad que le dan la majestad del campo abierto a su huída; ¿y teniendo yo más vida, tengo menos libertad? En llegando a esta pasión, un volcán, un Etna hecho, quisiera sacar del pecho pedazos del corazón. ¿Qué ley, justicia o razón negar a los hombres sabe privilegios tan süave excepción tan principal, que Dios le ha dado a un cristal, a un pez, a un bruto y a un ave?

I’m going to a party tonight,” I said, partly just to say it out loud and partly to brag. Conrad raised his eyebrows. “You?” “Whose party?” Jeremiah demanded. “Kinsey’s?” I put down my juice. “How’d you know?” Jeremiah laughed and wagged his finger at me. “I know everybody in Cousins, Belly. I’m a lifeguard. That’s like being the mayor. Greg Kinsey works at that surf shop over by the mall.” Frowning, Conrad said, “Doesn’t Greg Kinsey sell crystal meth out of his trunk?” “What? No. Cam wouldn’t be friends with someone like that,” I said defensively. “Who’s Cam?” Jeremiah asked me. “That guy I met at Clay’s bonfire. He asked me to go to this party with him, and I said yes.” “Sorry. You aren’t going to some meth addict’s party,” Conrad said. This was the second time Conrad was trying to tell me what to do, and I was sick of it. Who did he think he was? I had to go to this party. I didn’t care if there was crystal meth or not, I was going. “I’m telling you, Cam wouldn’t be friends with someone like that! He’s straight edge.” Conrad and Jeremiah both snorted. In moments like these, they were a team. “He’s straight edge?” Jeremiah said, trying not to smile. “Neat.” “Very cool,” agreed Conrad. I glared at the both of them. First they didn’t want me hanging out with meth addicts, and then being straight edge wasn’t cool either. “He doesn’t do drugs, all right? Which is why I highly doubt he’d be friends with a drug dealer.” Jeremiah scratched his cheek and said, “You know what, it might be Greg Rosenberg who’s the meth dealer. Greg Kinsey’s pretty cool. He has a pool table. I think I’ll check this party out too.” “Wait, what?” I was starting to panic. “I think I’ll go too,” Conrad said. “I like pool.” I stood up. “You guys can’t come. You weren’t invited.” Conrad leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head. “Don’t worry, Belly. We won’t bother you on your big date.” “Unless he puts his hands on you.” Jeremiah ground his fist into his hand threateningly, his blue eyes narrow. “Then his ass is grass.” “This isn’t happening,” I moaned. “You guys, I’m begging you. Don’t come. Please, please don’t come.” Jeremiah ignored me. “Con, what are you gonna wear?” “I haven’t thought about it. Maybe my khaki shorts? What are you gonna wear?” “I hate you guys,” I said.