Mole And Horse Quotes

What is the bravest thing you've ever said? asked the boy. 'Help,' said the horse. 'Asking for help isn't giving up,' said the horse. 'It's refusing to give up.

What do you want to be when you grow up?" "Kind," said the boy.

What do you think is the biggest waste of time?" "Comparing yourself to others," said the mole.

Do you have any other advice?" asked the boy. "Don't measure how valuable you are by the way you are treated," said the horse.

Is your glass half empty or half full?" asked the mole. "I think I'm grateful to have a glass," said the boy.

One of our greatest freedoms is how we react to things.

The greatest illusion," said the mole, "is that life should be perfect.

Always remember you matter, you're important and you are loved, and you bring to this world things no one else can.

We often wait for kindness...but being kind to yourself can start now.

We have such a long way to go," sighed the boy "Yes, but look how far we've come," said the horse

When things get difficult remember who you are.' 'Who am I?' asked the boy 'You are loved' said the horse

Isn't it odd. We can only see our outsides, but nearly everything happens on the inside

Imagine how we would be if we were less afraid.

Sometimes I think you believe in me more than I do," said the boy "You'll catch up," said the horse.

Home isn’t always a place is it?

Nothing beats kindness,' said the horse. 'It sits quietly beyond all things.

When the big things feel out of control focus on what you love right under your nose

I am truly tiny' said the mole 'The love inside you,' said the boy 'is as big as the universe.

Doing nothing with friends is never doing nothing, is it?' asked the boy. 'No,' said the mole.

What do we do when our hearts hurt?" asked the boy. "We wrap them with friendship, shared tears and time, till they wake hopeful and happy again.

Sometimes I worry you'll all realise I'm ordinary," said the boy. "Love doesn't need you to be extraordinary." said the mole.

So you know all about me?' asked the boy. 'Yes.' said the horse. 'And you still love me?' 'We love you all the more.

What's your best discovery?" asked the mole. "That I'm enough as I am," said the boy.

This is easily my favourite place' said the mole 'Why?' asked the boy 'Because you are all here,

How do they look so together and perfect?" asked the boy. "There's a lot of frantic paddling going on beneath," said the horse.

What's the bravest thing you've ever said?" asked the boy. "Help," said the horse.

Just take this step... The horizon will look after itself.

sometimes," said the horse. "sometimes what?" asked the boy. "Sometimes just getting up and carrying on is brave and magnificent.

When the dark clouds come... ...keep going

I can't see a way through," said the boy. "Can you see your next step?" "Yes." "Just take that," said the horse.

Don't measure how valuable you are by the way you are treated.

To be honest, I often feel I have nothing interesting to say," said the fox. "Being honest is always interesting," said the horse.

What do you think success is?" asked the boy. "To love," said the mole.

this storm will pass

Most of the old moles I know wish they had listened less to their fears and more to their dreams.

I think everyone is just trying to get home.

Sometimes I want to say I love you all," said the mole, "but I find it difficult." "Do you?" said the boy. "Yes, so I say something like I'm glad we are all here." "Ok," said the boy. "I'm glad we are all here." "We are so glad you are here, too.

We don't know about tomorrow, all we need to know is that we love each other.

If at first you don't succeed, have some cake.' 'I see. Does it work?' 'Every time.

I'm so small,” said the mole. “Yes,” said the boy, “but you make a huge difference.

Do you have a favourite saying?" asked the boy. "Yes" said the Mole. "What is it?" "If at first you don't succeed, have some cake" "I see, does it work?" "Every time

When have you been at your strongest? asked the boy. When I have dared to show my weakness.

Sometimes I feel lost," said the boy. "Me too," said the mole, "but we love you, and love brings you home.

Tears fall for a reason and they are your strength not weakness.

The truth is everyone is winging it.

I wonder if there is a school of unlearning

Sometimes," said the horse "Sometimes what?" asked the boy. "Sometimes just getting up and carrying on is brave and magnificent.

I need pictures. They are like islands, places to get to in a sea of words.

Love doesn't need you to be extraordinary.

Nothing beats kindness ... It sits quietly beyond all things.

Sometimes all you hear about is the hate, but there is more love in this world than you could possibly imagine.

When the big things feel out of control...focus on what you love right under your nose.

One of our greatest freedom is how we react to things.

Do you have any other advice?' asked the boy 'Don't measure how valuable you are by the way you are treated' said the horse

What do you think success is?" asked the boy. "To love," said the mole.

What do we do when our hearts hurt?" asked the boy. "We wrap them with friendship, shared tears and time, till they wake hopeful and happy again.

What is that over there?", asked the boy. "It's the wild", said the mole; "Don't fear it" "Imagine how we'd be, if we were less afraid...??

I've learned how to be in the present." "How?" asked the boy "I find a quiet spot and shut my eyes and breathe." "That's good, and then?" "Then I focus." "What do you focus on?" "Cake," said the mole.

Sometimes I feel lost, said the boy. Me too, said the mole, but we love you, and love brings you home.

I'm so small.” said the mole. “Yes,” said the boy, “but you make a huge difference.

Wat lijkt jou de grootste tijdverspilling?' 'Jezelf met anderen vergelijken,' zei de mol.

Sometimes I think you believe in me more than I do" said the boy "you'll catch up" said the horse.

Isn't it odd we can only see our outsides, but nearly everything happens on the inside

If at first you don't succeed, have some cake.

How much of an effect on history can an animal have? A big one. Look at Alexander the Great’s horse Bucephalus, and “the little gentleman in the black fur coat” who’d killed King William the Third when his horse stepped in the mole’s front door. And Richard the Third standing on the field at Bosworth and shouting, “My kingdom for a horse!

De meeste oude mollen die ik ken, zouden willen dat ze minder naar hun angsten hadden geluisterd en meer naar hun dromen.

Stel je toch voor hoe wij zouden zijn als we minder bang waren.

Raar eigenlijk, wij zien alleen onze buitenkant, maar bijna alles gebeurt vanbinnen.

Çocuğun kafasında bir sürü soru var, köstebekse durmadan pasta istiyor.

I want to change the world," said Tiny Dragon. "Start with the next person who needs your help," replied Big Panda.

imagine how we could be if we were less afraid

<< ¿Ves el vaso medio lleno o medio vacío? >>, preguntó el topo. << Creo que doy gracias por tener un vaso >>, dijo el niño.

What's your best discovery?' asked the mole. 'That I'm enough as I am.' said the boy

Life is difficult - but you are loved

I've learned how to be in the present." "How?" asked the boy "I find a quiet spot and shut my eyes and breathe." "That's good and then?" "Then I focus." "What do you focus on?" "Cake," said the mole.

And now there’s another thing you got to learn,” said the Ape. “I hear some of you are saying I’m an Ape. Well, I’m not. I’m a Man. If I look like an Ape, that’s because I’m so very old: hundreds and hundreds of years old. And it’s because I’m so old that I’m so wise. And it’s because I’m so wise that I’m the only one Aslan is ever going to speak to. He can’t be bothered talking to a lot of stupid animals. He’ll tell me what you’ve got to do, and I’ll tell the rest of you. And take my advice, and see you do it in double quick time, for he doesn’t mean to stand any nonsense.” There was dead silence except for the noise of a very young badger crying and its mother trying to make it keep quiet. “And now here’s another thing,” the Ape went on, fitting a fresh nut into its cheek, “I hear some of the horses are saying, Let’s hurry up and get this job of carting timber over as quickly as we can, and then we’ll be free again. Well, you can get that idea out of your heads at once. And not only the Horses either. Everybody who can work is going to be made to work in future. Aslan has it all settled with the King of Calormen—The Tisroc, as our dark faced friends the Calormenes call him. All you Horses and Bulls and Donkeys are to be sent down into Calormen to work for your living—pulling and carrying the way horses and such-like do in other countries. And all you digging animals like Moles and Rabbits and Dwarfs are going down to work in The Tisroc’s mines. And—” “No, no, no,” howled the Beasts. “It can’t be true. Aslan would never sell us into slavery to the King of Calormen.” “None of that! Hold your noise!” said the Ape with a snarl. “Who said anything about slavery? You won’t be slaves. You’ll be paid—very good wages too. That is to say, your pay will be paid into Aslan’s treasury and he will use it all for everybody’s good.” Then he glanced, and almost winked, at the chief Calormene. The Calormene bowed and replied, in the pompous Calormene way: “Most sapient Mouthpiece of Aslan, The Tisroc (may-he-live-forever) is wholly of one mind with your lordship in this judicious plan.” “There! You see!” said the Ape. “It’s all arranged. And all for your own good. We’ll be able, with the money you earn, to make Narnia a country worth living in. There’ll be oranges and bananas pouring in—and roads and big cities and schools and offices and whips and muzzles and saddles and cages and kennels and prisons—Oh, everything.” “But we don’t want all those things,” said an old Bear. “We want to be free. And we want to hear Aslan speak himself.” “Now don’t you start arguing,” said the Ape, “for it’s a thing I won’t stand. I’m a Man: you’re only a fat, stupid old Bear. What do you know about freedom? You think freedom means doing what you like. Well, you’re wrong. That isn’t true freedom. True freedom means doing what I tell you.” “H-n-n-h,” grunted the Bear and scratched its head; it found this sort of thing hard to understand.

Chapter 28 Genghis Cat Gracing Whatever Shithole This Is, Washington, USA You can all relax now, because I am here. What did you think? I’d run for safety at the whim of a fucking parrot with under-eye bags like pinched scrotums? Did you suspect I—a ninja with feather-wand fastness and laser-pointer focus—had the spine of a banana slug? Then you are a shit-toned oink with the senses of a sniveling salamander. Then you don’t know Genghis Cat. I look around and can see that we are surrounded by The Bird Beasts, those crepe-faced, hair ball–brained fuck goblins. I intensely dislike these lumpy whatthefuckareyous who straddle between the Mediocre Servant and animal worlds, trying to be one thing and really not being, like imitation crabmeat in a sushi log that is really just fucking whitefish and WE ALL KNOW IT. “Would you like a little of the crabmeat, Genghis?” my Mediocre Servants seemed to ask with their blobfish lips and stupid faces. “THAT’S FUCKING WHITEFISH, YOU REGURGITATED MOLES!” I’d yowl, and then I’d steal the sushi log and run off and growl very much so they couldn’t have it back, and later I would pee on their night pillows for good measure. I cannot imagine their lives before me. We mustn’t think of those bleak dark ages. But the Beasts are dangerous. I have watched them morph and chew into a house. I have seen them with spider legs and second stomachs and camouflage skins. I have seen them tear the legs off a horse and steal flight from those with feathers. Orange and I have lost family to their fuckish appetites. But they are still fakish faking beasts and I’m fucking Genghis Cat. They are imitation crab and Genghis is filet mignon Fancy Feast, bitch. Probably I should come clean here and tell you that I’m immortal. I always suspected it but can confirm it now that I have surpassed the allocated nine lives. I’m somewhere around life 884, give or take seventy-eight. Some mousers have called me a god, but I insist on modesty. I also don’t deny it. I might be a god. It seems to fit. It feels right. A stealthy, striped god with an exotically spotted tummy—it seems certain, doesn’t it to you? I’m 186 percent sure at this point. Orange insists we stay away from the Beasts all the time, but I only let Orange think he’s in charge. Orange is incredibly sensitive, despite being the size of a Winnebago. He hand-raised each of my kittens and has terrible nightmares, and I have to knead my paws on him to calm him down. Orange and I have a deal. I will kill anything that comes to harm Orange and Orange will continue to be the reason I purr.

They reached the eastern outskirts of the Dimmerskog on the afternoon of the next day. Although the forest was covered in a thick blanket of white snow, it nevertheless seemed, as Binabik had named it, a place of shadows. The company did not pass beneath its eaves, and might have chosen not to even had their path lain that way, so thick with foreboding was the wood’s atmosphere. The trees, despite their size—and some of them were huge indeed—seemed dwarfish and twisted, as though they squirmed bitterly beneath their burden of needled branches and snow. The open spaces between the contorted trunks seemed to bend away crazily like tunnels dug by some huge and drunken mole, leading at last to dangerous, secretive depths. Passing in near silence, his horse’s hooves crunching softly in the snow, Simon imagined following the gaping pathways into the bark-pillared, white-roofed halls of Dimmerskog, coming at last to—who could guess? Perhaps to the dark, malicious heart of the forest, a place where the trees breathed together and passed endless rumors with the scaly rub of branch on branch, or the malicious exhalation of wind through twigs and frozen leaves. They camped that night in the open again, even though the Dimmerskog crouched only a short distance away like a sleeping animal. None of them wanted to spend a night beneath the forest’s branches—especially Sludig, who had been raised on stories of the ghastly things that stalked the wood’s pale corridors. The Sithi did not seem to care, but Jiriki spent part of the evening oiling his dark witchwood sword. Again the company huddled around a naked fire, and the east wind razored past them all the long evening, sending great powdery spouts of snow whirling all around, and sporting among the Dimmerskog’s upper reaches. When they lay down that night to sleep it was to the sound of the forest creaking, and the wind-ridden branches sawing one against the other.

I Won't Be Found Well if I ever see the morning Just like a lizard in the spring I'm gonna run out in the meadow To catch the silence when it sings I'm gonna force the Serengeti To disappear into my eyes Then when I hear your voices callin' I'm gonna turn just inside out Well if I ever get to slumber Just like a mole deep in the ground Hell, I won't be found Deep in the dust forgotten gathered I grow a diamond in my chest I make reflections as the moon shines on Turn to a villain as I rest Well if I ever get to slumber Just like a mole deep in the ground Hell, I won't be found I know there is a hollow I need to fill it with a draft Of all the words that I wont way And with a quiet whisper I send a curse upon the day That never used the sun to see The light I'm gonna float up in the ceiling I built a levee of the stars And in my field of tired horses I built a freeway through this farce Well if I ever get that slumber Ill be that mole deep in the ground And I won't be found

But to the last question,” Zelig replied, “he probably flew to beyond the Dark Regions, where people don’t go and cattle don’t stray, where the sky is copper, the earth iron, and where the evil forces live under roofs of petrified toadstools and in tunnels abandoned by moles.” Isaac Bashevis Singer, Naftali the Storyteller and His Horse, Sus

People only see the truth if it is close enough to their reality.

Marks … I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to find your spectacles in this wreckage.” “I have another pair at home,” she ventured. “Thank God.” Leo sat up with a quiet grunt of discomfort. “Now, if we stand on the highest pile of debris, it’s only a short distance to the surface. I’m going to hoist you up, get you out of here, and then you’re going to ride back to Ramsay House. Cam trained the horse, so you won’t need to guide him. He’ll find his way back home with no trouble.” “What are you going to do?” she asked, bewildered. He sounded rather sheepish. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to wait here until you send someone for me.” “Why?” “I have a—” He paused, searching for a word. “Splinter.” She felt indignant. “You’re going to make me ride back alone and unescorted and virtually blind, to send someone to rescue you? All because you have a splinter?” “A large one,” he volunteered. “Where is it? Your finger? Your hand? Maybe I can help to … Oh, God. ” This last as he took her hand and brought it to his shoulder. His shirt was wet with blood, and a thick shard of timber protruded from his shoulder. “That’s not a splinter,” she said in horror. “You’ve been impaled. What can I do? Shall I pull it out?” “No, it might be lodged against an artery. And I wouldn’t care to bleed out down here.” She crawled closer to him, bringing her face close to his to examine him anxiously... “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “It looks worse than it is.” But Catherine didn’t agree. If anything, it was worse than it looked... Stripping off her riding coat, she tried to lay it over his chest. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Trying to keep you warm.” Leo plucked the garment off his chest and made a scoffing sound. “Don’t be ridiculous. First, the injury isn’t that bad. Second, this tiny thing is not capable of keeping any part of me warm. Now, about my plan—” “It is obviously a significant injury,” she said, “and I do not agree to your plan. I have a better one.” “Of course you do,” he replied sardonically. “Marks, for once would you do as I ask?” “No, I’m not going to leave you here. I’m going to pile up enough debris for both of us to climb out.” “You can’t even see, damn it. And you can’t move these timbers and stones. You’re too small.” “There is no need to make derogatory remarks about my stature,” she said, lurching upward and squinting at her surroundings. Identifying the highest pile of debris, she made her way to it and hunted for nearby rocks. “I’m not being derogatory.” He sounded exasperated. “Your stature is absolutely perfect for my favorite activity. But you’re not built for hauling rocks. Blast it, Marks, you’re going to hurt yourself—” “Stay there,” Catherine said sharply, hearing him push some heavy object aside. “You’ll worsen your injury, and then it will be even more difficult to get you out. Let me do the work.” Finding a heap of ashlar blocks, she picked one up and lugged it up the pile, trying not to trip over her own skirts. “You’re not strong enough,” Leo said, sounding aggravated and out of breath. “What I lack in physical strength,” she replied, going for another block, “I make up for in determination.” “How inspiring. Could we set aside the heroic fortitude for one bloody moment and dredge up some common sense?” “I’m not going to argue with you, my lord. I need to save my breath for”—she paused to heft another block—“stacking rocks.” Somewhere amid the ordeal, Leo decided hazily that he would never underestimate Catherine Marks again. Ounce for ounce, she was the most insanely obstinate person he had ever known, dragging rocks and debris while half blind and hampered by long skirts, diligently crossing back and forth across his vision like an industrious mole. She had decided to build a mound upon which they could climb out, and nothing would stop her.

Is jouw glas half leeg of half vol?' vroeg de mol. 'Ik ben geloof ik al blij dat ik een glas héb.' Zei de jongen.

And horse-stealing,” said the Water Rat, adding his mite. “And impersonating a washerwoman, and defrauding the rails, and horse-stealing—or did I say that already?” “You did,” said Beryl. “You did,” affirmed the Mole. “And there was a second motor-car theft, was there not? I cannot keep track.” “O, how thrilling!” said the Rabbit, her ribbons fluttering with excitement. “It is all exactly like the ancient Greeks!” “Ulysses?” Beryl said drily. “Very likely.” “O, Beryl.” The Rabbit looked reproachfully at her companion.

Nothing beats kindness. It sits quietly beyond all things.

Nasıl böyle sakin ve mükemmel görünebiliyorlar? diye sordu çocuk. Altta deli gibi ayak çırpıyorlar, dedi at.

Sometimes all you hear about is hate, but there is more love in this world than you could possibly imagine

»I'm so small.« said the mole. »Yes,« said the boy, »but you make a huge difference.«

پروانه درست قبل از بیرون آمدن از پیله بیشتر از همیشه تلاش می‌کند

I thought I saw you scurrying in here hubby-kins!” A girl in a vivid orange dress stepped into the room and I had to look up at her towering height and shoulders which nearly matched the breadth of the Heirs'. Her teeth protruded a little from her lower jaw and her eyes seemed to wander, never landing on one spot. Her hair was a massive brown frizz with a pink bow clipped into the top of it, perfectly matching the violently bright shade of her eyeshadow. She marched between Tory and I like we were made of paper, forcing us aside with her elbows as she charted a direct path for Darius. “Mildred,” he said tersely, his eyes darkening as his bride-to-be reached out to him. Caleb, Seth and Max sniggered as Mildred leaned in for a kiss and Darius only managed to stop her at the last second by planting his palm on her forehead with a loud clap. “Not before the wedding,” he said firmly and I looked at Tory who was falling into a fit of silent laughter, clutching her side. I tried to smother the giggle that fought its way out of my chest but it floated free and Mildred rounded on us like a hungry animal. “These must be the Vega Twins,” she said coldly. “Well don't waste your time sniffing around my snookums. Daddy says he's saving himself for our wedding night.” Max roared with laughter and Mildred turned on him like a loaded weapon, jabbing him right in the chest. Max's smile fell away as she glared at him like he was her next meal. “What are you laughing at you overgrown starfish?” she demanded, her eyes flashing red and her pupils turning to slits. “I've eaten bigger bites than you before, so don't tempt me because I adore seafood.” Max reached out, laying a hand on her bare arm, shifting it slightly as his fingers brushed a hairy mole. “Calm down Milly, we're just having a bit of fun. We want to get to know Darius's betrothed. Why don't you have a shot?” He nodded to Caleb who promptly picked one up and held it one out for Mildred to take. “Daddy says drinking will grow hairs on my chest,” she said, refusing it. “Too late for that,” Seth said under his breath and the others started laughing. A knot of sympathy tugged at my gut, but Mildred didn't seem to care about their mocking. She stepped toward Seth with a wicked grin and his smile fell away. “Oh and what's wrong with that exactly, Seth Capella? You like your girls hairy, don't you?” Seth gawped at her in answer. “What the hell does that mean?” “You like mutt muff,” she answered, jutting out her chin and I noticed a few wiry hairs protruding from it. Seth growled, scratching his stomach as he stepped forward. “I don't screw girls in their Order form, idiot.” “Maybe not, but you do, don't you Caleb Altair?” She rounded on him and now I was really starting to warm to Mildred as she cut them all down to size. I settled in for the show, folding my arms and smiling as I waited for her to go on. “My sister's boyfriend’s cousin said you like Pegasus butts. He even sent a video to Aurora Academy of you humping a Pegasex blow up doll and it went viral within a day.” Caleb's mouth fell open and his face paled in horror. “I didn't hump it!” “I didn't watch the video, but everyone told me what was in it. Why would I want to see you screwing a plastic horse?” She shrugged then turned to Tory and I with absolutely no kindness in her eyes. Oh crap.(Darcy)

What is the bravest thing you ever said? asked the boy. 'Help,' said the horse.

What do you want to be when you grow up?" "Kind," said the boy.

At the side of the house, where a bougainvillea growing on to the roof made a sort of arbor, a dozen skulls were fixed to the wall. Animal skulls, pale as driftwood, bleached to sea-shades against the powder-blue plaster. The centerpiece was obviously the skull of a horse. There were others whose shapes suggested the flesh in which they had once been embedded: a dog, a rabbit, and more I could only guess at - rat, lamb, lizard, mole. The way they were arranged, with the horse in the middle and the lesser creatures above and below, each in its proper station, the beaked birds under the rafters, the head of the dog at a height that invited you to scratch its ear although its jaw was dropped to snap at your ankle, made them less like trophies than ghosts, passing through the wall that instant, hungry for meat and grass, for air and company, breaking back into the realm of the living. One of the skulls had small, pointed horns, darkly whorled, as shiny as enamel. Suspended in the eye socket of the horse was a pocket watch with its hands hanging down, defeated.

I think the wild is a bit like life — frightening sometimes but beautiful.

Sometimes just getting up and carrying on is brave and magnificent.

One of our greatest freedoms, is how we react to things.

Hast du anfangs keinen Erfolg, iss Kuchen." - "Verstehe. Funktioniert es?" - "Immer.

As a battle cry against feudalism, the demand for democracy had a progressive character. As time went on, however, the metaphysics of natural law (the theory of formal democracy) began to show its reactionary side – the establishment of an ideal standard to control the real demands of the laboring masses and the revolutionary parties. If we look back to the historical sequence of world concepts, the theory of natural law will prove to be a paraphrase of Christian spiritualism freed from its crude mysticism. The Gospels proclaimed to the slave that he had just the same soul as the slave-owner, and in this way established the equality of all men before the heavenly tribunal. In reality, the slave remained a slave, and obedience became for him a religious duty. In the teaching of Christianity, the slave found an expression for his own ignorant protest against his degraded condition. Side by side with the protest was also the consolation. Christianity told him, "You have an immortal soul, although you resemble a pack-horse." Here sounded the note of indignation. But the same Christianity said, "Although you are like a pack-horse, yet your immortal soul has in store for it an eternal reward." Here is the voice of consolation. These two notes were found in historical Christianity in different proportions at different periods and amongst different classes. But as a whole, Christianity, like all other religions, became a method of deadening the consciousness of the oppressed masses. Natural law, which developed into the theory of democracy, said to the worker: "all men are equal before the law, independently of their origin, their property, and their position; every man has an equal right in determining the fate of the people." This ideal criterion revolutionized the consciousness of the masses in so far as it was a condemnation of absolutism, aristocratic privileges, and the property qualification. But the longer it went on, the more if sent the consciousness to sleep, legalizing poverty, slavery and degradation: for how could one revolt against slavery when every man has an equal right in determining the fate of the nation? Rothschild, who has coined the blood and tears of the world into the gold napoleons of his income, has one vote at the parliamentary elections. The ignorant tiller of the soil who cannot sign his name, sleeps all his life without taking his clothes off, and wanders through society like an underground mole, plays his part, however, as a trustee of the nation’s sovereignty, and is equal to Rothschild in the courts and at the elections. In the real conditions of life, in the economic process, in social relations, in their way of life, people became more and more unequal; dazzling luxury was accumulated at one pole, poverty and hopelessness at the other. But in the sphere of the legal edifice of the State, these glaring contradictions disappeared, and there penetrated thither only unsubstantial legal shadows. The landlord, the laborer, the capitalist, the proletarian, the minister, the bootblack – all are equal as "citizens" and as "legislators." The mystic equality of Christianity has taken one step down from the heavens in the shape of the "natural," "legal" equality of democracy. But it has not yet reached earth, where lie the economic foundations of society. For the ignorant day-laborer, who all his life remains a beast of burden in the service of the bourgeoisie, the ideal right to influence the fate of the nations by means of the parliamentary elections remained little more real than the palace which he was promised in the kingdom of heaven.

<< ¿Ves el vaso medio lleno o medio vacío? >>, preguntó el topo. << Creo que doy gracias por tener un vaso", dijo el niño.

One of our greatest freedoms is how we react to things