Say No To Piracy Quotes

Jean grinned down at her, and she handed him something in a small silk bag. 'What's this?' 'Lock of my hair, ' she said. 'Meant to give it to you days ago, but we got busy with all the raiding. You know. Piracy. Hectic life. ' 'Thank you, love, ' he said. 'Now, if you find yourself in trouble wherever you go, you can hold up that little bag to whoever's bothering you, and you can say, "You have no idea who you're fucking with. I'm under the protection of the lady who gave me this object of her favour. "' 'And that's supposed to make them stop?' 'Shit no, that's just to confuse them. Then you kill them while they're standing there looking at you funny.

I don’t know what you’re referencing, madam,” the chairman says, his voice raised over mine. “I’m talking about menstruation, sir!” I shout in return. It’s like I set the hall on fire, manifested a venomous snake from thin air, also set that snake on fire, and then threw it at the board. The men all erupt into protestations and a fair number of horrified gasps. I swear one of them actually swoons at the mention of womanly bleeding.

Every time you rolled your eyes and every little smart remark you made about how silly it was for girls to care about their looks. You refused to let me--or anyone!--like books and silks. Outdoors and cosmetics. You stopped taking me seriously when I stopped being the kind of woman you thought I had to be to be considered intelligent and strong. All those things you say make men take women less seriously--I don't think it's men; it's you. You're not better than any other woman because you like philosophy better than parties and don't give a fig about the company of gentlemen, or because you wear boots instead of heels and don't set your hair in curls.

I'm not sure anyone is all good when you break us down to raw materials," I say. "Max is all good." "Max is a dog." "I don't see how that changes anything. He's a good dog.

Prickly?" I say. "I'm not prickly." "Felicity Montague, you are a cactus.

Mythology is all shite anyway,' she says. 'It never has stories about people like us. I'd rather write my own legends, or be the story someone else looks to one day, build a strong foundation for those who follow us.

I think I want a house of my own," I start, the words a discovery as they leave my mouth. "Something small, so I don't have much housework, but enough room for a proper library. I want a lot of books. And I wouldn't mind a good old dog to walk with me. And a bakery I go to every morning where they know my name." "And you don't want anyone with you?" Sim asks, raising her head. "No family?" "I want friends," I say. "Good friends, that make up a different kind of family.

Everyone wants things,” Monty says. “Everyone’s got a hunger like that. It passes. Or it gets easier to live with. It stops eating you up inside.” I scrunch my nose and sniff. Maybe everyone has hunger like this—impossible, insatiable, but all-consuming in spite of it all. Maybe the desert dreams of spilling rivers, valleys of a view. Maybe that hunger will one day pass. But if it does, I will be left shelled and halved and hollowed out, and who can live like that?

That hat is idiotic." "I know," he says. "Percy made it for me." "I didn't know Percy knew how to knit." "He doesn't," Monty replies, and the brim of the hat falls in front of his eyes as though in emphasis.

Or maybe I would be a flower. But a really tough flower." "A wildflower," Sim says. "The kind that are strong enough to stand against wind, rare and difficult to find and impossible to forget. Something men walk continents for a glimpse of." I wrinkle my nose. "I'd rather not be glimpsed by men. Perhaps we can set up some sort of trap so that they fall off a cliff if they try to pluck me from the ground.

Spine bones as lucky charms." "Vertebrae," I say. "What?" "The spine bones," I reply, my eyes still on the creature. "They're called vertebrae." "Thank you, but that's not what I'm concerned about right now." "If you're going to say something, at least say it right.

Am I having a stroke? Not only are all the words I wish to say putting themselves in a random order in my brain, but I’m almost certain my voice is far too loud and my movements far too exaggerated.

I'm not lonely." "I didn't think I was either." I shrug so my cloak falls closed in front of me. "Do you want me to marry Mr. Doyle because you think I need a man to protect me? Or complete me? I'll pass on that, thank you very much." "No," he says. "I just wish you had someone cheering for you all the time, because you deserve it.

One of the few things left in the world, aside from the world itself, that sadden me every day is an awareness that you get upset if Boo Boo or Walt tells you you're saying something that sounds like me. You sort of take it as an accusation of piracy, a little slam at your individuality. Is it so bad that we sometimes sound like each other? The membrane is so thin between us. Is it so important for us to keep in mind which is whose... For us, doesn't each of our individualities begin right at the point where we own up to our extremely close connections and accept the inevitability of borrowing one another's jokes, talents, idiocies?

I think I want a house of my own,” I start, the words a discovery as they leave my mouth. “Something small, so I don’t have much housework, but enough room for a proper library. I want a lot of books. And I wouldn’t mind a good old dog to walk with me. And a bakery I go to every morning where they know my name.” “And you don’t want anyone with you?” Sim asks, raising her head. “No family?” “I want friends,” I say. “Good friends, that make up a different kind of family.” “That sounds lonely.” “It wouldn’t be lonely,” I reply. “I’d like to be on my own, but not alone.

If “piracy” means using value from someone else’s creative property without permission from that creator–as it is increasingly described today – then every industry affected by copyright today is the product and beneficiary of a certain kind of piracy. Film, records, radio, cable TV… Extremists in this debate love to say “You wouldn’t go into Barnes & Noble and take a book off of the shelf without paying; why should it be any different with online music?” The difference is, of course, that when you take a book from Barnes & Noble, it has one less book to sell. By contrast, when you take an MP3 from a computer network, there is not one less CD that can be sold. The physics of piracy of the intangible are different from the physics of piracy of the tangible.

Thucydides says the men of the Bronze Age enjoyed piracy, and saw nothing wrong with it, and this is true. And what is the pirate but the original form of the free man and of all ascending life!

...it's all too easy to judge people in the past by the ethical standards of today and feel superior. As the saying goes, fashions in ethics change even faster than fashions in clothing, and it should give us pause to know that people in the future will probably denounce us for things we never even thought to question. But it's fair to judge people for violating the standards of their own day,...

We think there is a fundamental misconception about piracy. Piracy is almost always a service problem and not a pricing problem. If a pirate offers a product anywhere in the world, 24 x 7, purchasable from the convenience of your personal computer, and the legal provider says the product is region-locked, will come to your country 3 months after the US release, and can only be purchased at a brick and mortar store, then the pirate’s service is more valuable.

to be a Jew is to belong to an old harmless race that has lived in every country in the world; and that has enriched every country it has lived in. "It is to be strong with a strength that has outlived persecutions. It is to be wise against ignorance, honest against piracy, harmless against evil, industrious against idleness, kind against cruelty! It is to belong to a race that has given Europe its religion; its moral law; and much of its science-perhaps even more of its genius-in art, literature and music. "This is to be a Jew; and you know now what is required of you! You have no country but the world; and you inherit nothing but wisdom and brotherhood. I do not say there are no bad Jews-userers; cowards; corrupt and unjust persons-but such people are also to be found among Christians. I only say to you this is to be a good Jew. Every Jew has this aim brought before him in his youth. He refuses it at his peril; and at his peril he accepts it.

We're cactus girls. We'd prick each other with a glance." "I withdraw my cactus comparison," she says. "Or, if you're to be a cactus, you're one of the furry ones. The ones that look like they have spines but if you're brave enough to press your hand against it, you realize it's soft.

Of course you don’t,” she says, pushing herself up on her good elbow. “You’re trying to play a game designed by men. You’ll never win, because the deck is stacked and marked, and also you’ve been blindfolded and set on fire. You can work hard and believe in yourself and be the smartest person in the room and you’ll still get beat by the boys who haven’t two cents to rub together.

Albert Einstein once said, “Most people say that it is the intellect which makes a great scientist. They are wrong: it is character.” . . . On one level, science is a collection of facts about the world, and adding to that collection does require discoveries. But science is also something larger. It’s a mindset, a process, a way of reasoning about the world that allows us to expose wishful thinking and biases and replace them with deeper, more reliable truths. Considering how vast the world is, there’s no way to check every reported experiment yourself and personally verify it. At some point, you have to trust other people’s claims—which means those people need to be honorable, need to be worthy of trusting. Moreover, science is an inherently social process. Results cannot be kept secret; they have to be verified by the wider community, or science simply doesn’t work. And given what a deeply social process science is, acts that damage society by shortchanging human rights or ignoring human dignity will almost always cost you in the end—by destroying people’s trust in science and even undermining the very conditions that make science possible.

Piracy of Bollywood; or Bollywood of Piracy, Tough to Say.

Even so, today’s Democrats profess to be shocked, shocked to see their fellow Democrats engaged in such behavior. That was then, they suggest, and this is now. What does this have to do with us today? What does it have to do with Hillary? No resemblance to the current frontrunner of the Democratic Party is even suspected. Yet as we saw with the Clintons in Haiti, the tradition of Jacksonian piracy is alive and well in today’s Democratic Party. Bernie Sanders may have the same Jacksonian objectives as Hillary, but only Hillary seems capable of pulling them off. Part of the reason Democrats prefer Hillary over Bernie is that she is a more effective Jacksonian, which is to say, a more ruthless and successful thief.

–The People’s Independent Republic of Arse, Cock and Yo-ho-bloody-ho, I say. PIRACY! –You are a pirate! –Damn right I am! I’m Flash Jack Carter, the Darling of the Deep, the Blessed of the Briny, Sodomite Scourge of the Seven Seas ...

Estimates suggest that $7.6 trillion of wealth is hidden in tax havens all over the world. The international finance sector acts as a 'circulation system for criminal money acquired through drug trafficking, terrorism, piracy, human trafficking, proliferation and tax evasion.' When we look at the international financial system, we don't find a free-market paradise. Instead, we find incredibly powerful institutions in both the public and private sector shaping the conditions faced by everyone else. Financial institutions 'dress themselves up in liberal trappings of the market, yet capture the old sovereignty of the state all the better to squeeze the social body to feed their own profits.' Yet all this power is held without any democratic accountability. Politicians, technocrats, and financiers work together to decide everything from the interest rates we pay on our loans to who gets what when a state files for bankruptcy. If everyone had a say in determining how these rules were made and enforced, rather than just a privileged few, we'd live in a very different world.

I am reminded of how exquisitely easy friendship with Percy is, equal parts comfortable silence and never lacking things to say to each other. Or rather it was easy, until I ruined it by losing my bleeding mind every time he does that thing where he tips his head to the side when he smiles.

How did you come to live in Amsterdam?” I ask her. “Did you study there?” She twists a strand of hair around her fingers, staring out over the rail and across the water. “No, I studied medicine in Algiers, then earned my doctoral degree in Italy. Then spent several years as a ship’s surgeon because I couldn’t find professional work on the continent.” She squints, counting the years backward in her head. “Then I was hired to assist at the Hortus Medicus—the botanical garden in Amsterdam that cultivates medicinal plants from around the world. They’re funded by the university, and most of the physicians do at least some of their training there. I started teaching as a substitute when the male professors were traveling or unwell, and eventually they gave me my own classes and let me do my own research.” “Do you speak Dutch?” I ask. She nods. “And Italian. And Arabic, and some of the Berber dialects, though not fluently.” “And you’re a doctor,” I say, trying to make it a statement rather than a question though the concept still seems outlandish, not because women don’t have the capacity for medical professions, but because I’ve simply never heard of any reaching such a recognized level of achievement. “A real doctor.” She gives me a half smile. “Improbable as it may seem, I am.” “Felicity Primrose Montague!” I exclaim. Monty throws back his head and laughs. Felicity rolls her eyes. “Oh good, now there are two of you.” “You’re incredible,” I say to her. She looks down at her hands, color rising in her cheeks. “That’s very kind, thank you.” “You are!” I say. “You’re a doctor! And a professor! At a university!” “It really is bloody impressive, Fel,” Monty adds. “And a pirate!” I say. “You’re like an adventure-novel heroine! I wish I could introduce you to my fiancée. She’d go mad over you.” “Is she interested in medicine or piracy?” Felicity asks. “Neither in particular,” I say. “But she’s very interested in women who cast off societal expectations and work for change despite the men who endeavor to stand in their way.

but don’t forget what hero really means. Thucydides says the men of that time enjoyed piracy, and saw nothing wrong with it, and this is true. And what is the pirate but the original form of the free man and of all ascending life! How pathetic, when you are told now about “living life,” or “having a life”—these people know nothing about what true life means. Compare the intensity of Alcibiades, that super-pirate, or of what I am about to describe here, to the “life” you’re encouraged to “have” today. How worthless the vaunting of these anxious creatures who live on pharmaceuticals, cheap wine, the rancid fart-fumes of status and approval they beg from each other.

Many times I’m asked, why the Bronze Age? Because it’s the heroic age you see in the Iliad and Odyssey, yes, but don’t forget what hero really means. Thucydides says the men of that time enjoyed piracy, and saw nothing wrong in it, and this is true. And what is the pirate but the original form of the free man and of all ascending life!

Why are you being such an ass about this?” “Because this sounds like a terrible idea, and I’m worried about you.” “Well, that’s not reason enough for me not to go,” I say. “I worry constantly about you and Percy being pilloried or tossed in the Marshalsea or you setting your flat on fire because you don’t know how to boil water, but I don’t stop you.

How did you find us?” I ask, looking between him and Percy. “When it became apparent you had absconded with a member of Scipio’s crew, I consulted him for information about your partner in crime,” Monty says. “At which point he informed me that the woman you had chosen to hang your hopes upon is a member of the Crown and Cleaver fleet and that any dealings you might have with her were likely to be criminal at best.” “Why did he take Sim on if he knew she was dangerous?” I ask. “I was raised under the Crown and Cleaver,” Ebrahim says from the stairs, and I jump. I had forgotten he was there. “I vouched for her.” “Which of course led to him feeling responsible,” Monty says, “and Scipio feeling responsible, and also Percy and I felt responsible and we were all determined to get you out of whatever trouble you had so determinedly gotten yourself in. Don’t look so surprised. We’d move heaven and earth for you. Unless of course there is any actual heavy lifting involved, in which case, I’ll abstain, but don’t believe that in any way tarnishes the sentiment.

He swats that away. “Stop. I’m telling the story of our heroic rescue. So we were intending to hold an audience with the pirate lord himself and beg for your freedom, but your lady love beat us there.” “My . . . who?” “Your pirate paramour,” he says. “The one you made that bargain with. She showed up with a group of very brawny gentlemen who had no qualms about leaving their shirt sleeves unfastened—” “Careful,” Percy says, but Monty butts his forehead against Percy’s shoulder. “Please. You were looking too.” “I wasn’t.” “How could you not? It was like some very lascivious god sculpted them all with a very generous hand—” “Monty, focus,” I snap.

Monty manifests suddenly at my shoulder like an obnoxious ghost, grinning at me in a way that makes me realize how close to my ear Sim was speaking. “I think she likes you,” he says. I roll my eyes. “Just because you and Percy live in unholy matrimony doesn’t mean every same-gendered pair also wants to. And we only kissed once, and that was more an experimentation to see if kissing can be an enjoyable experience for me. And the answer is no, though I’d say she’s the best I’ve had. But the point is moot as I don’t think it’s ever really going to be good because I just don’t seem to desire that sort of relationship with anyone the way everyone else does. But just because she kissed me doesn’t mean she likes me. I once saw you necking a hedgerow.” Monty blinks. “I meant likes as in begrudgingly respects, but my word, how long have you been bottling that up, darling?” “Dear God, you really are the worst.” I stalk past him toward the upper deck, trying my best to ignore his hooked talon of a smile. “Is it too late to be unrescued?

Life was good, and none of it would have happened without Andrew. Without him, I would never have mastered the world of music piracy and lived a life of endless McDonald's. What he did, on a small scale, showed me how important it is to empower the dispossessed and the disenfranchised in the wake of oppression. Andrew was white. His family had access to education, resources, computers. For generations, while his people were preparing to go to university, my people were crowded into thatched huts singing, "Two times to is four. Three times two is six. La la la la la." My family had been denied the things his family had taken for granted. I had a natural talent for selling to people, but without knowledge and resources, where was that going to get me? People always lecture the poor: "Take responsibility for yourself! Make something of yourself!" But with what raw materials are the poor to make something of themselves? People love to say, "Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he'll eat for a lifetime." What they don't say is, "And it would be nice if you give him a fishing rod." That's the part of the analogy that's missing. Working with Andrew was the first time in my life I realized you need someone from the privileged world to come to you and say, "Okay, here's what you need, and here's how it works." Talent alone would have gotten me nowhere without Andrew giving me the CD writer. People say, "Oh, that's a handout." No. I still have to work to profit by it. But I don't stand a chance without it.

Perhaps the loot fro piracy dried up after England and other European countries sent warships to the area--- or perhaps the whole thing was just one great fib. Because in all honesty, nobody can say for a fact that Libertatia ever existed. Written sources, so abundant in the wake of authoritarian societies, are nowhere to be found.

Pirates of Bollywood, or Bollywood of Pirates? - Tough to say.

With regard to creative artists, Baker also has some suggestions that seem sensible to me. Namely, they should be publicly funded.9That’s basically what happens with, say, classical music or opera. If you could extend that, you wouldn’t need intellectual property rights and the piracy issue would disappear.

Don Simpson was right about Robert Altman. Screenwriter, Ring Lardner wrote M*A*S*H (1970) and director Altman praised his script in early interviews. After the movie was a hit, Altman said that he had tossed out Lardner’s script and written it himself. The movie’s producer, George Litto, said, “Bob was never one to acknowledge a writer’s contribution. The movie was ninety percent Ring Lardner’s script, but Bob started saying he improvised the movie. I said,* ‘Bob, Ring Lardner gave you the best opportunity you had in your whole life. Ring was blacklisted for years. What you’re doing is very unfair to him and you ought to stop it.’