Ovation Quotes

I think there should be a rule that everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives.

AUGUST PULLMAN'S PRECEPT Everyone deserves a standing ovation because we all overcometh the world. --Auggie

The bow is so old, its horsehair is glue Sent to the factory, just like me and like you So how come they stayed your execution? The audience roars its standing ovation “Dust,

The truth is that the heroism of your childhood entertainments was not true valor. It was theatre. The grand gesture, the moment of choice, the mortal danger, the external foe, the climactic battle whose outcome resolves all--all designed to appear heroic, to excite and gratify and audience. Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality--there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand? Here is the truth--actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.

But, she knew, you didn’t have to marry your soulmate, and you didn’t even have to marry an Interesting. You didn’t always need to be the dazzler, the firecracker, the one who cracked everyone up, or made everyone want to sleep with you, or be the one who wrote and starred in the play that got the standing ovation. You could cease to be obsessed with the idea of being interesting.

Live your life, sing your song. Not full of expectations. Not for the ovations. But for the joy of it.

True art awakens the Extraordinary Ovation

Everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their life because we all overcometh the world. -Auggie

I had a fucking standing ovation going on in my goddamn pants, and it was demanding an encore.

Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality—there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand? Here is the truth—actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.

I think there should be a rule that everyone should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives because they overcometh the world

The clitoris not only applauds when a women flaunts her mastery; it will give a standing ovation. In the multiple orgasm, we see the finest evidence that our lady Klitoris helps those who help themselves. It may take many minutes to reach the first summit, but once there the lusty mountaineer finds wings awaiting her. She does noy need to scramble back to the ground before scaling the next peak, but can glide like a raptor on currents of joy.

To me, bad taste is what entertainment is all about. If someone vomits watching one of my films, it's like getting a standing ovation. But one must remember that there is such a thing as good bad taste and bad bad taste. it's easy to disgust someone; I could make a ninety-minute film of people getting their limbs hacked off, but this would only be bad bad taste and not very stylish or original. To understand bad taste one must have very good taste. Good bad taste can be creatively nauseating but must, at the same time, appeal to the especially twisted sense of humor, which is anything but universal.

Everyone deserves a standing ovation because we all overcometh the world. Todo el mundo merece una ovación de pie porque todos hemos vencido al mundo.

Art is the conversation between lovers. Art offers an opening for the heart. True art makes the divine silence in the soul Break into applause. Art is, at last, the knowledge of Where we are standing – Where we are standing In this Wonderland When we rip off all our clothes And this blind man's patch, veil, That got tied across our brow. Art is the conversation between lovers. True art awakes the Extraordinary Ovation.

Hayden's ovaries stood up and delivered a thundering ovation.

The cascade of water was so vast and mighty, I thought, the angels were not only clapping - they were giving a standing and stomping ovation for a spectacle only God could have created.

She could tell them about a simple machine needing no fuel and little maintenance, one that steadily sequesters carbon, enriches the soil, cools the ground, scrubs the air, and scales easily to any size. A tech that copies itself and even drops food for free. A device so beautiful it’s the stuff of poems. If forests were patentable, she’d get an ovation.

Failovation is the sort of failure that generates innovation, potentially prompting a standing ovation.

You are going to fail at a lot of things, so when you do, do it on such a grand scale that half the room gives you a standing ovation, and the other half gives you the middle finger.

Since you can never be my bride, My tree at least you shall be! Let the laurel Adorn, henceforth, my hair, my lyre, my quiver: Let Roman victors, in the long procession, Wear laurel wreaths for triumph and ovation.

You didn't always need to be the dazzler, the firecracker, the one who cracked everyone up, or made everyone want to sleep with you, or be the one who wrote and starred in the play that got the standing ovation. You could cease to be obsessed with the idea of being interesting.

I recall one particular sunset. It lent an ember to my bicycle hell. Overhead, above the black music of telegraph wires, a number of long, dark-violet clouds lined with flamingo pink hung motionless in a fan-shaped arrangement; the whole thing was like some prodigious ovation in terms of color and form! It was dying, however, and everything else was darkening, too; but just above the horizon, in a lucid, turquoise space, beneath a black stratus, the eye found a vista that only a fool could mistake for the square parts of this or any other sunset. It occupied a very small sector of the enormous sky and had the peculiar neatness of something seen through the wrong end of a telescope. There it lay in wait, a brilliant convolutions, anachronistic in their creaminess and extremely remote; remote but perfect in every detail; fantastically reduced but faultlessly shaped; my marvelous tomorrow ready to be delivered to me.

This was our last night. We only had one curtain call, Bree. And I thought they were going to give us a standing ovation, but no-o-o-. Do you know why half the audience stood up?" "To get a head start on the traffic," Bree said. "To get a head start on the traffic," Antonia agreed in indignation. "I mean, here we are, dancing and singing our little guts out, and all those folks want to do is get to bed early. I ask you, whatever happened to common courtesy? Whatever happened to decent manners? Doesn't anyone care about craft anymore? And on top of that, it's not even nice.

Itseoppinut on ainoa oppinut. Muut ovat opetettuja.

Show them what you’re made of Your endless nights deserve a loud ovation Shine bright and prove them wrong ‘Cause we can feel our progress

AUGUST PULLMAN’S PRECEPT Everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their life because we all overcometh the world. —Auggie

Because Cards' fans are the most knowledgeable and loyal in all of baseball, they booed almost reluctantly, polite as booing goes, what would have passes as a standing ovation in Philly.

I can't believe I just rejected him. I'm stunned, but I also feel like giving myself a standing ovation. I just resisted the advances of Nate Thornhill, my fantasy of almost three years. I should win a willpower award.

If," ["the management consultant"] said tersely, “we could for a moment move on to the subject of fiscal policy. . .” “Fiscal policy!" whooped Ford Prefect. “Fiscal policy!" The management consultant gave him a look that only a lungfish could have copied. “Fiscal policy. . .” he repeated, “that is what I said.” “How can you have money,” demanded Ford, “if none of you actually produces anything? It doesn't grow on trees you know.” “If you would allow me to continue.. .” Ford nodded dejectedly. “Thank you. Since we decided a few weeks ago to adopt the leaf as legal tender, we have, of course, all become immensely rich.” Ford stared in disbelief at the crowd who were murmuring appreciatively at this and greedily fingering the wads of leaves with which their track suits were stuffed. “But we have also,” continued the management consultant, “run into a small inflation problem on account of the high level of leaf availability, which means that, I gather, the current going rate has something like three deciduous forests buying one ship’s peanut." Murmurs of alarm came from the crowd. The management consultant waved them down. “So in order to obviate this problem,” he continued, “and effectively revalue the leaf, we are about to embark on a massive defoliation campaign, and. . .er, burn down all the forests. I think you'll all agree that's a sensible move under the circumstances." The crowd seemed a little uncertain about this for a second or two until someone pointed out how much this would increase the value of the leaves in their pockets whereupon they let out whoops of delight and gave the management consultant a standing ovation. The accountants among them looked forward to a profitable autumn aloft and it got an appreciative round from the crowd.

Nationalismi ja heimoajattelu ovat sitkeitä tauteja. Niistä pääsee lukemalla ja matkustamalla

Everyone should always have a standing ovation at least once in their life.

Just walking through this life as a Black person, and actually surviving that, was and still is an ovation-worthy performance.

However anxious one is to reach one’s goal, one can excuse delays on the route when these are caused by ovations.

Ihmiset tahtovat kaikenlaista, vieraita tavaroita vieraista maista. Pian ovat kaapit täynnä kamaa Elämä on kuitenkin yhtä ja samaa. Ei iloon tarvitse tavaraa hankkia, siihen ei tarvita edes pankkia.

The pendulum has overcorrected from the cruel era of rapping a disobedient child’s knuckles with a ruler to giving every child a trophy for showing up. Every child should have the experience of being loved unconditionally, supported, and encouraged, but this requires more than a standing ovation every time he or she enters the room.

Mutta Muumipappa oli kuullut, etteivät hattivatit riitele koskaan. Ne ovat luonteeltaan hiljaisia, ja niitä kiinnostaa vain päästä eteenpäin niin kauas kuin mahdollista. Mieluimmin aina taivaanrantaan tai maailmanloppuun saakka, mikä luultavasti merkitsee samaa.

Kaikki asiat ovat keltaisia jos ne ovat keltaisia sellaisia asioita.

Voiko joku olla aikaansa edellä? Äärimmäisen harvat ovat sen tasalla.

Ja jos ajatellaan loogisesti, niin kaikki tarinat ovat surullisia, koska lopussa kaikki kuolevat. On syntymä, parittelu ja kuolema.

I clear my throat. “Briar’s good,” I start. “They’re really good.” “Great speech!” Brooks breaks out in hearty applause. “Standing ovation!

Rauhassa jumalilta ja rauhassa ihmisiltä he ovat saavuttaneet sen vaikeimman päämäärän, ettei heidän tarvitse mitään toivoa.

Here is the truth - actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested. - David Foster Wallace, from The Pale King

- Onko maailma sitten täynnä tiikereitä ja krokotiileja? - On. Mutta kaksijalkaiset tiikerit ja krokotiilit ovat vaarallisempia kuin nelijalkaiset.

Jostain syystä en ole koskaan tullut toimeen hämähäkkien kanssa, jos ne ovat niin pieniä, ettei niiden kanssa voi puhua.

I think there should be a rule that everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives.

Pelko ja kauhu ovat heikkoja rakkauden siteitä; kun nuo poistetaan, alkavat ne vihata, jotka ovat lakanneet tuntemasta pelkoa.

...a standing ovation from five-year-olds is not to be sniffed at.

Kirjat ovat paljon vaarallisempia kuin kovat huumeet tai suojaamaton seksi, jotka pahimmassakin tapauksessa tekevät ihmisestä vain kuolleen. Kirjat, varsinkin kovat, voivat tehdä nuoresta ihmisestä epänormaalin, tyytymättömän. Pahimmassa tapauksessa ne iskostavat tämän mieleen epäterveen viehtymyksen kauneuteen ja totuuteen.

Mitä vastaan minä sodin? Syöpää. Omaa syöpääni. Ja mikä minun syöpäni on? Se on minua. Kasvaimet ovat lähtöisin minusta. Ne ovat minua yhtä varmasti kuin aivoni ja sydämeni. Tämä on sisällissota, Hazel Grace, ja voittaja tiedetään ennalta.

In the past, my brain could only compute perfection or failure—nothing in between. So words like competent, acceptable, satisfactory, and good enough fell into the failure category. Even above average meant failure if I received an 88 out of 100 percent on an exam, I felt that I failed. The fact is most things in life are not absolutes and have components of both good and bad. I used to think in absolute terms a lot: all, every, or never. I would all of the food (that is, binge), and then I would restrict every meal and to never eat again. This type of thinking extended outside of the food arena as well: I had to get all of the answers right on a test; I had to be in every extracurricular activity […] The ‘if it’s not perfect, I quit’ approach to life is a treacherous way to live. […] I hadn’t established a baseline of competence: What gets the job done? What is good enough? Finding good enough takes trial and error. For those of us who are perfectionists, the error part of trial and error can stop us dead in our tracks. We would rather keep chasing perfection than risk possibly making a mistake. I was able to change my behavior only when the pain of perfectionism became greater than the pain of making an error. […] Today good enough means that I’m okay just the way I am. I play my position in the world. I catch the ball when it is thrown my way. I don’t always have to make the crowd go wild or get a standing ovation. It’s good enough to just catch the ball or even to do my best to catch it. Good enough means that I finally enjoy playing the game.

Asioiden luullaan olevan ympäröivässä yhteiskunnassa huonommin kuin koskaan usein jopa silloin, kun ne todellisuudessa ovat paremmin kuin koskaan. Niiden luullaan menevän koko ajan huonompaan suuntaan, kun ne todellisuudessa pysyvät ennallaan tai jopa paranevat. Totuuden luullaan olevan salattu, epämiellyttävä ja tuskallinen, kun se todellisuudessa on julkinen, tylsä ja banaali.

And as I walked up the steps to the stage, the most amazing thing happened: everyone started standing up. Not just the front rows, but the whole audience suddenly got up on their feet, whooping, hollering, clapping like crazy. It was a standing ovation. For me.

I pull the skull off my head. Even though it's made of papier-mache it's really hard. I smash it against Jimmy Snyder's head, and I smash it again. He falls to the ground, because he is unconscious, and I can't believe how strong I actually am. I smash his head again with all my force and blood starts to come out of his nose and ears. But I still don't feel any sympathy for him. I want him to bleed, because he deserves it. And nothing else makes any sense. Dad doesn't make sense.Mom doesn't make sense. The Audience doesn't make sense. The folding chairs and fog machine don't make sense. Shakespeare doesn't make sense. The stars that I know are on the other side of the gym ceiling don't make sense. The only thing that makes any sense right then is my smashing Jimmy Snyder's face. His blood. I knock a bunch of his teeth into his mouth, and I think they go down his throat. There is blood everywhere, covering everything. I keep smashing the skull against his skull, which is also Ron's skull (for letting Mom get on with life) and Mom's skull (for getting on with life) and Dad's skull (for dying) and Grandma's skull (for embarrassing me so much) and Dr. Fein's skull (for asking if any good could come out of Dad's death) and the skulls of everyone else I know. The Audience is applauding, all of them, because I am making so much sense. They are giving me a standing ovation as I hit him again and again.

In Gaza, in August 2014, I spent ten days in a community being systematically destroyed by drone strikes, shelling and sniper fire. Fifteen hundred civilians were killed, one third of them children. In February 2015, I saw the US Congress give twenty-five standing ovations to the man who ordered the attacks.

You will recall that she had expected she might be scolded for entering Lord Fredrick’s study and perhaps falsely accused of taking the almanac. It had even occurred to her that the police might be summoned and criminal charges filed, after which she would have to bravely defend herself in front of a stern, white-wigged judge. Her eloquence would earn a standing ovation from the dazzled spectators, who would find it impossible to believe that this mere girl of fifteen was not a trained lawyer.

the reunion show at London’s O2 arena. To ignore that might be perceived as skimping. So . . . What a huge success it was – although I say so, who shouldn’t. I refuse to be modest. Ten audiences of 16,000 loved it and gave us ten great warm, happy standing ovations, and I’ve only heard three snotty comments altogether (apart from the Daily Mail, who panned the show, claiming we had ‘mixed reviews’ – they were about as mixed as Hitler’s reviews at Nuremberg, a reference which the Mail, as a formerly pro-Nazi paper, should easily get).

Niin monet miehet ovat naineet unissaan äitiään.

Nothing is good enough to stop you.Nothing can stop you! Nothing! You are good enough to make the whole world stand in ovation for you now.

Minulla on paljon unelmia. Unelmat ovat minulle tärkeitä, koska ilman niitä en jaksaisi elää.

Kaikki henkilöt, elävät ja kuolleet, ovat täysin sattuman tuotteita eikä heitä pidä yrittää tulkita.

Ja kauanko täällä kauniina pysytään jos turvana ovat vain paljaat nyrkit maailman kylmää tuulta vastaan...

It’s easier to fill a page with fury than applause. As Lillian would say, an ovation lasts a minute, a riot a fortnight.

there should be a rule that everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives.

a nice standing ovation from a studio audience of angels, who having all died themselves, know a good death when they see one.

Hyvästit oli sanottu moneen kertaan, mutta aina haudattu toisiin sanoihin, eikä niitä lopulta ollut sanottu kertaakaan. Niin me tulemme tänne yhä uudelleen jäähyväiset askeliamme painaen. Ne ovat ikuisesti myöhässä ja poissa paikoiltaan: mennyt hetki, jota emme tunnistaneet silloin, kun se oli ulottuvilla, ja jonka aavetta emme siksi koskaan lakkaa kantamasta mukanamme.

Aikaa myöten lähes kaikki ihmiset käyvät tarpeettomiksi tavaroiden, ravinnon, palveluiden ja uusien koneiden tuottajina ja käyttökelpoisten ideoiden lähteenä talouselämässä, tekniikassa ja luultavasti myös lääketieteessä. Jos siis emme keksi syitä ja keinoja arvostaa ihmisiä koska he ovat ihmisiä, voimme yhtä hyvin, kuten monesti on ehdotettukin, pyyhkäistä heidät pois maan päältä.

The ovation roared around him. He felt nothing in particular, hardly even the embarrassment he had feared. He had to go up again—this time without Fräulein Gasteiner, and it was a little peculiar to him to hear the noise of clapping hands and the loud shouts of "Bravo". He bowed several times, turned to the door and then, just as the clapping was getting weaker, he heard a voice from slightly behind him, or to the side—he couldn't quite tell—but the words were perfectly distinct, no matter how quietly they had been said: "Poor devil!" He wanted to look around, but he felt that that would seem absurd.

Muistot ovat lepattavia varjoja, puolikkaita lauseita. Tiedän, että joskus polkua kehystivät talvi-illassa palavat lyhdyt, ja että kesällä joku juoksi täällä paljain jaloin ja nauroi. Valoisana iltana joku lämmitti saunaa ja ilma tuoksui savulta ja koivunlehdiltä. Kuulen viimeiset, väsyneet askeleet vastakkaiseen suuntaan ja maistan jäähyväisten kitkeryyden. Haistan tuomenkukkien tuoksun ja siihen solmitun lupauksen. Kymmeniä, satoja, tuhansia polkua pitkin kulkeneita. Niin monia ennen minua, ja viimein enää kaksi: ne, joiden jälkeen talvi on jäänyt yksin, eikä kukaan ole palannut sitä noutamaan.

Kaikki kurottavat kohti toista ja toivovat, että toinen kääntyisi ja näkisi hänet kokonaisena, ymmärtäisi häntä, ymmärtäisi hänet, mutta valitettavasti elämä on rakennettu sillä tavalla, että jos ylipäätään saa toisen kääntymään, tämä näkee jotain aivan muuta kuin oli tarkoitus: vain pinnan tai, mikä pahempaa, pinnan alle, missä kaikki peitetyt asiat ovat ja minne vain jumalan pitäisi nähdä, eikä mielellään hänenkään.

Olen tutkinut asiaa useamman vuoden, ja havaintojeni perusteella uskon vakaasti, että ihmiset eivät ole tasa-arvoisia, jotkut ovat typeryksiä ja toiset eivät ja että sen määrää luonto eivätkä kulttuuriset tekijät.

Jean-François Copé en donnera un exemple comique en montant prestement sur la tribune au moment de l'ovation vibrante qui salue le discours de François Fillon, faisant ainsi croire que ces applaudissements s'adressaient à lui.

The reason why you doubt yourself so much is that you have never seen yourself in action. You have never seen yourself breaking limits. You have never seen yourself standing in the spotlight and getting cheered by the audience.

tässä pamfletissa ensinnä lueteltavia vääryyksiä ovat: osattomuus empatian puute hyväksikäyttö ja niiden seuraukset hirveät toiseksi lueteltavat kuten ilkeys kitkeryys kateus kaunaisuus hätä nälkä masennus ja epätoivo itseviha koston odotus.

Sovita lantiotani onko se sopivaa mallia sinulle sovita suuni se on juuri samaa tyyliä kuin nämä rinnat, ne ovat juuri kämmentesi kokoa, koko tämä asuste enkä ole näytöskappale vaan ainoa malliaan lässytän ihanasti, vingun painalluksesta kuin lelu, olen ylevä, olen mitä haluat, olen tyyny.

There was much talk in the American press in the early eighties about the political cautiousness of a new generation of college students concerned mostly with their own careers. But when, at the Harvard commencement of June 1983, Mexican writer Carlos Fuentes criticized American intervention in Latin America, and said, “Because we are your true friends, we will not permit you to conduct yourselves in Latin American affairs as the Soviet Union conducts itself in Central European and Central Asian affairs,” he was interrupted twenty times by applause and received a standing ovation when finished.

Toimimattoman parisuhteen vaikutukset eivät jää ainoastaan pariskuntien välille, vaan seuraukset joutuvat kantamaan myös monet muut, varsinkin lapset. Kodin tunneilmasto ja vanhempien välinen suhde kun ovat oikeastaan se lapsen varsinainen koti. Ja tämä tunneilmasto sitten viedään taas aikanaan omaan kotiin.

Kuvitellaan hetki tilannetta, jossa lehdistö soittaisi aina luterilaisen, katolisen tai ortodoksikirkon tiedotukseen kun pitäisi tietää, "mitä mieltä suomalaiset ovat". Maahanmuuttajien tilanne on juuri tämä. Kehotan keskustelemaan aiheesta joskus sekulaarien muslimien kanssa. Siinä on joukko, jota todella vituttaa.

Jokaisen teon edellä näen kuilun, jonka yli minun olisi hypättävä. Mutta joka kerta arvioin kuilua ja hyppyä, ja koska mietin, en hyppää. Minä olen itse tuo kuilu. Olisiko hyppy siis voitto minusta itsestäni? Ei; minä vain juoksisin itseni edelle; sen sijaan minun on laskeuduttava, ei hypättävä. Minun on joka kerta laskeuduttava yhä syvemmälle tuntemattomuuteen. Toisella puolen ovat niityt, täällä sielun pimeä yö. Menetetty hyppy! Tahtoisin riisua kengät jalastani ja kahlata syvässä ruohossa, tuntea lämpimän maan ja viileän ruohon jalkapohjaani vasten. Istua ruohoon, koskettaa sitä, tuntea sen hauraan elämän, joka on puhjennut maan tajuttomasta. Painaa poskeni ruohoon, unohtaa, nukkua, ympärillä unen fragmentit. Tahdoin, olen tahtonut; miksi en enää tahdo? Koska aistit tahtovat aina enemmän; lopulta tahtoisin itse olla ruoho. Siis valitsen olemassaolon tällä puolen, yksinäisyyden väistämättömän modaalisuuden, sangen abstraktisen olemassaolon, jossa en tahdo mitään muuta kuin olemassaoloa ilman mielenliikutuksia, itseäni ilman ehtoja. Vapauden kuilun.

To take those risks not only do you need to silence the external critics, you also need to let go of the inner critic that tries to worry you about the fear of rejection.

Olen aina ollut parempi kuin Hopet; se joka selvisi hengissä. Silti olen aina, ihan aina ollut mustasukkainen seitsemälle tuonpuoleisessa tanssivalle prinsessalle. He ovat saavuttaneet täydellisyyden joutumatta yrittämään, olematta hetkeäkään olemassa, kun minä olen jumissa maankamaralla ja joudun yrittämään joka päivä, ja joka päivä saatan osoittautua puutteelliseksi.

For three years I served on the board of directors of the National Organization for Women in New York City. As I explained women’s perspectives to men, I often noticed a woman “elbow” the man she was with, as if to say, “See, even an expert says what a jerk you are.” I slowly became good at saying what women wanted to hear. I enjoyed the standing ovations that followed. The fact that my audiences were about 90 percent women and 10 percent men (most of whom had been dragged there by the women) only reinforced my assumption that women were enlightened and men were “Neanderthals”; that women were, after all, Smart Women stuck with Foolish Choices. I secretly loved this perspective—it allowed me to see myself as one of America’s Sensitive New Age Men.

Ei ole olemassakaan puhdistunutta suhdetta, sielujen ylivertaista liittoa tai mitään, joka muistuttaisi sitä, edes etäisesti. Fyysisen rakkauden loppuessa kaikki loppuu, päivät täyttää pinnallinen ja synkkä ärtymys. Eikä minulla ollut harhakuvitelmia fyysisestä rakkaudesta. Nuoruus, kauneus, voima: ruumiillisen rakkauden kriteerit ovat samat kuin natsismin. Olin lyhyesti sanottuna iskenyt käteni paskaan.

My TV show enraged people. I had prostitutes on, and I treated them like real people.... I was fired from Maclean's after I wrote a piece called 'Let's Stop Hoaxing The Kids About Sex'. Now I'm the 'beloved author,' the 'beloved historian of Canada,' an icon. I get standing ovations.... I never set out to be a patriot or a popular historian. I just liked storytelling. [interview promoting Marching as to War (2002)]

Kissa ja nainen esiintyvät samassa merkityskentässä. Kissalla on "emäntä" ja koiralla "isäntä". Koiran ja miehen suhde perustuu valtaan, kissan ja naisen suhde kumppanuuteen. Kun kissa yhdistetään naimattomaan naiseen, syntyy pelottava liitto, jossa yhdistyvät mykkä animaalinen kauneus ja kahlitsematon feminiininen seksuaalisuus. Saduissa nainen muuttuu tällaisessa liitossa noidaksi. Nykyajan noitia ovat "kissatantat" eli yksin elävät naiset, joilla on kissa tai mielellään monta. Kissatantta on sosiaalisista karikatyyreista halveksituimpia. Hän on ärsyttävämpi kuin esimerkiksi pultsari tai nörtti (tai sukulaishahmonsa moraalitantta), sillä kissatantta investoi tunteensa eläimiin. Kissatantta jos kuka on "eläinrakas", siis eräänlainen sodomiitti, eläimiinsekaantuja. Mitä hänen ihmisyydelleen ja seksuaalisuudelleen on tapahtunut?

I don’t think an authentic stand comes from your head. I think an authentic stand comes from your heart. If your child is sick, right? Something happens in you to make a miracle, to make a miracle. It has nothing to do with the facts. And that’s all that’s required is your child my child your grandchild, your child’s child’s child – they’re in peril. And if you start thinking about it, you’ll sit down. But if you feel it you’ll stand up! That’s the amazing thing about this thing. It’s that it’s when you stand up you license other people to stand up. Now you standing up by yourself don’t make a dad-gum bit of difference in the rational world. You’re just one fool standing up. But if you’ve ever seen a standing ovation? It starts with one fool standing up. And then pretty soon the whole stadium is standing up. And it’s a different moment!

God, but he was beautiful. After a time, Jackson lifted his free hand and slowly ran a finger under the length of her scar—from the space between her right eyebrow and nose, up her forehead, then repeating the path from under her right ear, up to the outside corner of her right eye. She didn’t speak, her breath unsteady from watching him, from feeling the gentle weight of his finger against her face. The circuit complete, he gently rested his palm on her cheek and began tracing the scar once more—this time with his thumb on the new skin. Under the gentle weight of his thumb, her skin felt tingly. Like a foot that had fallen asleep and was 90 percent awake again. Oh. Oh. She could feel it. She could feel it. Her whole body tensed at the sensation. His gaze moved from her skin to her eyes. His palm still rested on her cheek, and his thumb rubbed lightly back and forth against the actual scar line. “Go out with me,” he said. “We are out.” Her voice came out as husky as his, like they were in a crowded library, not alone on the beach. “Out out. Friday night, after you play.” He smiled, leaning in a little closer. “We’ll toast the standing ovation.” She frowned at this reminder. “More like drink away my sorrows.” “Or that.” He leaned closer and said again, “Go out with me.

Taiteella ja unella on lukuisia yhtäläisyyksiä. Ajattelen, että taiteella inhimillisessä yhteiskunnassa on osaksi sama tehtävä kuin uniennäkemisellä yksilön fyysiselle ja henkiselle hyvinvoinnille. Unien informaatiosisällön rikkaus, niiden narratiivisuus, niiden ehtymätön kompleksisuus muistuttaa taideteoksen kerroksisuutta. Unet ja taide ovat portteja paitsi piilotajunnan myös laajemman vapauden ja ennustamattomuuden valtakuntaan.

I cried then, the great sobs wracking my whole body. I remembered the last time that I had wept, and how the little boy in my embrace had reached up awkwardly , and yet tenderly to brush away my tears " you did good, Teacher," he had whispered. And now the small boy had passed beyond- so young to journey on alone. But then I remembered that he hadn't traveled alone- not one step of the way, for as soon as the loving hands had released him there, another Hand had reached out to gently take him. I tried to visualize him entering the new Land , the excitement and eagerness shining forth on his face, the cheers rising from the shrill little voice. There would be no pain twisting his face now, no need to hold his head and rock back and forth. Joy and happiness would surround him. I could almost hear his words as he looked at the glories of heaven and gave the Father his jubilant ovation-" You did good, God; You did real good!

there should be a rule that everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their lives. Finally, after I don’t know how many minutes, the line of actors onstage stepped back and the curtain closed in front of them. The clapping stopped and the lights went up and the audience started getting up to leave. Me and Mom and Dad made our way to the backstage. Crowds of people were congratulating the performers, surrounding them, patting them on the

Nick rakasti minua. Täysillä. Mutta hän ei rakastanut tosiminua. Nick rakasti tyttöä, jota ei ole olemassakaan. Vedin tapani mukaan roolia. Ei sille mitään mahda, se on minulla verissä: niin kuin jotkut naiset vaihtavat tyyliä, minä vaihdan persoonaa. Mikä milloinkin tuntuu hyvältä, halutulta, ajanhenkiseltä. Luulen, että useimmat ihmiset toimivat näin, vaikka eivät myönnäkään, tai sitten he tyytyvät yhteen rooliin, koska ovat niin laiskoja tai tyhmiä etteivät voi vaihtaa.

Hän näytti taaskin hämmästyneeltä. Hän ei ollut voinut kuvitella, että joku nainen uskaltaisi puhua miehelle sillä tavoin. Minulle sen sijaan tällainen keskustelu oli täysin luonnollista. Aina kun keskustelukumppaninani oli joku voimakassieluinen, vaitelias, herkkä ihminen, olipa hän sitten mies tai nainen, en saanut rauhaa ennen kuin olin päässyt tunkeutumaan hänen sisimpäänsä läpi sovinnaisen pidättäväisyyden muurin ja yli luottamuksen kynnyksen. "Te olette merkillinen", hän sanoi, "ettekä ainakaan arka. Sielunne on yhtä rohkea kuin katseenne läpitunkeva, mutta sallikaa minun vakuuttaa teille, että tulkitsette tunteeni osittain väärin. Luulette niitä syvemmiksi ja voimakkaammiksi kuin mitä ne ovat. Tunnette minua kohtaan suurempaa myötätuntoa kuin ansaitsen. Punastuessani ja vapistessani neiti Oliverin edessä en sääli itseäni. Halveksin heikkouttani. Tiedän sen johtuvan pelkästä alhaisesta lihan himosta, ei sielun tuskasta. Sielu on yhtä järkkymätön kuin kallio, joka kohoaa keskellä meren kuohuja. - -

Jokaisessa kansassa on suuri joukko seikkailumielisiä hölmöjä, jotka vainuavat hartaasti, mistä maailman kolkasta löytyisi käyteaine mellakoille ja levottomalle elämälle. He ovat sokeita sille mikä on parasta heidän vanhemmissaan - ja uskallettakoon sanoa mikä on parasta - nimittäin vanhempien väsynyt äreys, ainaiset varoitukset, huolehtiminen lasten tulevaisuudesta, jankkaavat elämänohjeet, uhkailut vastoinkäymisistä, kehotukset ahkeruuteen ja opiskeluun, arkipäiväinen elämä ja sellaiset kansanomaiset, perinteelliset tietämykset, kuin "useampi päivä kuin makkara" ja "vielä se routa porsaan kotiin ajaa".

-En minä ole huolissani jäärouvan takia, Muumipeikko sanoi. -Minä olen huolissani toisten takia. Niiden, joista en tiedä mitään. Sen, joka asuu tiskipöydän alla. Ja minun komerossani tuolla. Ja Mörön, joka vain katsoo eikä sano sanaakaan. Tuu-tikki hieroi nenäänsä ja mietti. -Katsos, on niin paljon väkeä, joka ei sovi kesään eikä kevääseen eikä syksyyn, hän sanoi. -Kaikki hieman arat ja kummalliset. Muutamat yöeläimet ja oliot, joita ei huolita mihinkään ja joihin kukaan ei usko. Ne pysyvät piilossa koko vuoden. Ja sitten kun on rauhallista ja valkeaa ja yöt tulevat pitkiksi ja kaikki ovat nukahtaneet talviuneen - silloin ne tulevat esille.

In the spring of 1974 about two years before the Viking spacecraft landed on Mars, I was at a meeting in England sponsored by the Royal Society of London to explore the question of how to search for extraterrestrial life. During a coffee break, I noticed that a much larger meeting was being held in an adjacent hall, which out of curiosity I entered. I soon realized that I was witnessing one of the most ancient scholarly organizations on the planet. In the front row a young man in a wheelchair was, very slowly, signing his name in a book that bore on its earliest pages the signature of Isaac Newton. When at last he finished, there was a stirring ovation. Steven Hawking was a legend even then

Miksi haluamme niin kiihkeästi, että meidät muistetaan? Vaikka olemme vielä hengissä. Ilmeisesti haluamme vakuuttua olemassaolostamme niin kuin koirat jotka pissivät palopostin kylkeen. Panemme esiin kehystetyt valokuvamme, pergamentille painetut diplomimme, hopeoidut palkintopokaalimme; nimikoimme liinavaatteemme, kaiverramme nimemme puihin, raapustamme niitä vessojen seinille. Kaikki se on samaa tarvetta. Mitä me siis toivomme? Suosionosoituksia, kateutta, kunnioitusta? Vai yksinkertaisesti huomiota, mitä tahansa lajia mitä voimme osaksemme saada? Ainakin me haluamme silminnäkijän. Me emme kestä ajatusta, että meidänkin äänemme lopulta vaikenee, kuin radio jonka paristot ovat kuluneet loppuun.

Shortly after the Gulf War in 1992 I happened to visit a July Fourth worship service at a certain megachurch. At center stage in this auditorium stood a large cross next to an equally large American flag. The congregation sang some praise choruses mixed with such patriotic hymns as “God Bless America.” The climax of the service centered on a video of a well-known Christian military general giving a patriotic speech about how God has blessed America and blessed its military troops, as evidenced by the speedy and almost “casualty-free” victory “he gave us” in the Gulf War (Iraqi deaths apparently weren’t counted as “casualties” worthy of notice). Triumphant military music played in the background as he spoke. The video closed with a scene of a silhouette of three crosses on a hill with an American flag waving in the background. Majestic, patriotic music now thundered. Suddenly, four fighter jets appeared on the horizon, flew over the crosses, and then split apart. As they roared over the camera, the words “God Bless America” appeared on the screen in front of the crosses. The congregation responded with roaring applause, catcalls, and a standing ovation. I saw several people wiping tears from their eyes. Indeed, as I remained frozen in my seat, I grew teary-eyed as well - but for entirely different reasons. I was struck with horrified grief. Thoughts raced through my mind: How could the cross and the sword have been so thoroughly fused without anyone seeming to notice? How could Jesus’ self-sacrificial death be linked with flying killing machines? How could Calvary be associated with bombs and missiles? How could Jesus’ people applaud tragic violence, regardless of why it happened and regardless of how they might benefit from its outcome? How could the kingdom of God be reduced to this sort of violent, nationalistic tribalism? Has the church progressed at all since the Crusades? Indeed, I wondered how this tribalistic, militaristic, religious celebration was any different from the one I had recently witnessed on television carried out by Taliban Muslims raising their guns as they joyfully praised Allah for the victories they believed “he had given them” in Afghanistan?

Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster’s study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore. “Can we go up?” he asked the gargoyle. “Feel free,” groaned the statue. They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top. He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an earsplitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort-- But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other’s hands; they danced up and down on the chairs in which they had been painted; Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigellus called, in his high, reedy voice, “And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!” But Harry had eyes only for the man who stood in the largest portrait directly behind the headmaster’s chair. Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.

A FAIR IMPRESSION of the pace of Roosevelt’s candidacy for Mayor may be gained by following him through one night of his campaign—Friday, 29 October.44 At 8:00 P.M., having snatched a hasty dinner near headquarters, he takes a hansom to the Grand Opera House, on Twenty-third Street and Eighth Avenue, for the first of five scheduled addresses in various parts of the city. His audience is worshipful, shabby, and exclusively black. (One of the more interesting features of the campaign has been Roosevelt’s evident appeal to, and fondness for, the black voter.) He begins by admitting that his campaign planners had not allowed for “this magnificent meeting” of colored citizens. “For the first time, therefore, since the opening of the campaign I have begun to take matters a little in my own hands!” Laughter and applause. “I like to speak to an audience of colored people,” Roosevelt says simply, “for that is only another way of saying that I am speaking to an audience of Republicans.” More applause. He reminds his listeners that he has “always stood up for the colored race,” and tells them about the time he put a black man in the chair of the Chicago Convention. Apologizing for his tight schedule, he winds up rapidly, and dashes out of the hall to a standing ovation.45 A carriage is waiting outside; the driver plies his whip; by 8:30 Roosevelt is at Concordia Hall, on Twenty-eighth Street and Avenue A. Here he shouts at a thousand well-scrubbed immigrants, “Do you want a radical reformer?” “YES WE DO!” comes the reply.46

The other evening, in that cafe-cabaret in the Rue de la Fontaine, where I had run aground with Tramsel and Jocard, who had taken me there to see that supposedly-fashionable singer... how could they fail to see that she was nothing but a corpse? Yes, beneath the sumptuous and heavy ballgown, which swaddled her and held her upright like a sentry-box of pink velvet trimmed and embroidered with gold - a coffin befitting the queen of Spain - there was a corpse! But the others, amused by her wan voice and her emaciated frame, found her quaint - more than that, quite 'droll'... Droll! that drab, soft and inconsistent epithet that everyone uses nowadays! The woman had, to be sure, a tiny carven head, and a kind of macabre prettiness within the furry heap of her opera-cloak. They studied her minutely, interested by the romance of her story: a petite bourgeoise thrown into the high life following the fad which had caught her up - and neither of them, nor anyone else besides in the whole of that room, had perceived what was immediately evident to my eyes. Placed flat on the white satin of her dress, the two hands of that singer were the two hands of a skeleton: two sets of knuckle-bones gloved in white suede. They might have been drawn by Albrecht Durer: the ten fingers of an evil dead woman, fitted at the ends of the two overlong and excessively thin arms of a mannequin... And while that room convulsed with laughter and thrilled with pleasure, greeting her buffoonery and her animal cries with a dolorous ovation, I became convinced that her hands no more belonged to her body than her body, with its excessively high shoulders, belonged to her head... The conviction filled me with such fear and sickness that I did not hear the singing of a living woman, but of some automaton pieced together from disparate odds and ends - or perhaps even worse, some dead woman hastily reconstructed from hospital remains: the macabre fantasy of some medical student, dreamed up on the benches of the lecture-hall... and that evening began, like some tale of Hoffmann, to turn into a vision of the lunatic asylum. Oh, how that Olympia of the concert-hall has hastened the progress of my malady!