Tovar Quotes

Mother of mercy,"said Tovar."And that caused the riot?" "It's the other way around,"said Kira sheepishly."We started the riot as a distraction for the jaibreak." Tovar whistled."You don't mess aroud." P303

So, your plan is to murder a superior enemy army," said Tovar, "and then outrun the wind. I'm glad it's so simple.

My life wouldn't be easier if I were thin. My life would be easier if this culture wasn't obsessed with oppressing me because I'm fat. The solution to a problem like bigotry is not to do everything in our power to accommodate the bigotry. It is to get rid of the bigotry.

27 July Rage-thought to live by: in The General, Buster gets so annoyed at his girlfriend's stupidity for stoking the engine with tiny pieces of wood, he facetiously gives her little toothpicks - which she dutifully feeds into the fire. He then stares at her in disbelief, then delights in her anyway and leaps at her with a kiss. Sweet axiom!

My fat is political because when I show it off it really seems to piss people off. My fat is political because I’m keeping it. My fat is political because it’s fucking hot. My fat is my flag, my claim to fame, my battle scar, my secret fat girl society badge.

We are taught that thin is synonymous with beauty, power, and love. But, in fact, it is not. Beauty is not something women earn; it is something people are. Power is not achieved through the dogged pursuit of homogeneity; it is something that is innate within us and that is strengthened by nonconformity. Love is not something people earn through obedience; it is each person’s birthright. We cannot starve our way into being loved, into being free.

you can’t find self-love by walking a path paved by self-hatred.

Even a paranoid clock is being followed twice a day.

In science there has to be proovable evidence for something to be true, therefore God doesnt exist for scientists

What we must realize is that it’s not thinness that is being eroticized. What is being eroticized is the submission thinness represents in our culture. Thinness is a secondary characteristic. The true commodity is the willingness of women to acquiesce to cultural control. Controlling women’s body size is about controlling women’s lives. This claim to control is based on fantasies of masculine superiority bolstered by the culture. This control does not just apply to thinness.

We are taught that men are the key to happiness and fulfillment. We fear that without heterosexual marriage and childbearing we cannot become people who matter or “real” adults. It is this nexus of desire and fear that is the breeding ground for self-destructive behavior like dieting. Rather than being taught that you deserve love simply because you are a person, you are taught that love is something people must earn through particular socially sanctioned methods. For many women, that method is weight control.

My life wouldn’t be easier if I were thin. My life would be easier if this culture wasn’t obsessed with oppressing me because I’m fat. The solution to a problem like bigotry is not to do everything in our power to accommodate the bigotry. It is to get rid of the bigotry.

There’s an adrenaline rush that comes with denying the common rules of society: that I should always be trying to lose weight, that I should always be unhappy with some flaw. To say I am perfectly content with my body and all the parts that assemble it is nothing less than radical.

So maybe you don’t consciously feel inferior, but what if I asked you some follow-up questions, like: “Today are you wearing something that is physically uncomfortable because you believe it makes you look better? “Today did you refuse to eat something you wanted to eat because you were worried what it might do to the way you look? “Today did you refuse to do something you wanted to do because you were worried about how it would make you look to another person? “Today did you deny an impulse to say no or yes to something that mattered to you because you were worried that someone wouldn’t like you if you did it?

Ništa na ovome svijetu nije gore nego biti mlad...Ali od šesnaeste postaje ozbiljno. Zapravo si još dijete, ali svi u tebi vide odraslu osobu koju je lakše gaziti nego nekoga starijeg i iskusnijeg. Nitko te više ne štiti. Neprekidno ti tovare nove zadaće na vrat. Nitko te ne pita jesi li shvatila išta od toga što od sada trebaš raditi.

the biggest of musical surges!! The euphoria!! The smouldering!! The energy!! The villains!! The shameless exploitation of beauty!!

nostalgia for the present, George would call it.

From the amount of space that male undergraduates take up to the manspreading I witness during my commute, my fat body is frequently attacked on the grounds that I am not beautiful enough to exist because apparently that is my job as a woman. I think about the condescending comments I get from men online who tell me that they honestly think I’d be so beautiful if I lost weight—as if that were the goal of my life or my politics.

I gradually learned that I was less than others because I was a fat brown girl. The lessons I learned about the inferiority of my fat body were brutal; the lessons I received about my racial and gender inferiority were subtle by comparison.

Delarosa was trying to save the human race," said Mkele. "Her only crime was that she was willing to go too far in order to do it. We decided, briefly, that we didn't want to go along with her, but look at us: We're hiding in a basement, letting Delarosa fight our battles, seriously considering lettering her deploy a nuclear bomb. We are long past the point where we can pick and choose our morality. We either save our species or we don't." "Yes," said Tovar, "but I'd prefer it if we were still worth saving by the end of it.

There is compelling evidence that racism kills people. There is compelling evidence that living with the stress of poverty leads to a number of mental health challenges. There is compelling evidence that weight-based discrimination leads to heightened levels of stress and anxiety that suppress the function of major organs. And, there is evidence that fatphobia leads to shortened life expectancy.3 But racism, poverty, and weight-based bigotry are all social problems. It is through victim-blaming narratives that we cast these social issues as individual ones that can be solved through bootstrapping and consumerism.

Unlike many parts of the world where fate is considered to be something that lies beyond the reach of average humans, in the US fate is considered to be something that is resoundingly within the realm of every single person’s control. Failure is an individual problem, not a collective, cultural, or political problem. The idea is that if you don’t have something, it is because you didn’t want it badly enough, or you didn’t try hard enough. Though the allure of this idea is undeniable, there isn’t much room for serious considerations of justice or historical unfairness in this narrative. But it is this fantasy—the American Dream—that is the siren song for so many.

Dieting is a practice of fatphobia. Dieting is the result of unresolved fatphobia. We become terrified of what it would mean for us to be fat because we understand fundamentally how poorly fat people are treated. We transpose that bigotry onto the fat itself, rather than placing the blame where it belongs: on the culture that created and promotes injustice and fat hatred. We thereby, perhaps unintentionally, end up blaming fat people for the bigotry they are experiencing. Even though fatphobia is culturally pervasive and treated as if it’s a totally normal part of everyday life, it’s important to recognize that it is a form of bigotry that really harms people and that must be eradicated.

Unlike the hunted animal, he writes, “The animal raised and slaughtered is not a gift. We have earned that food in a different way, and when we eat that animal, we are not accepting a gift as much as we are exercising our property rights.

Sitting there at the base of the tree Mark had picked out, I spoke silently to the unseen deer. I praised their beauty, agility, and speed. I praised their ability to become nearly invisible, standing still, blending into the forest.

What matters is the kind of insight that can leap from here to there, from the simple fact of food on a plate to the ecological and ethical complexities of its origins. What matters is being able to walk into the grocery store, pick up a bag of apples or a loaf of bread, a bag of salad greens or a package of chicken legs, and imagine the mortality involved.

here—as in the timberland behind our house—I felt a sense of belonging, a growing familiarity that encompassed both conscious knowledge and something less tangible: an impression, a grasp of how things connected and of how animals lived and moved on this land, an unsketched and perhaps unsketchable map.

If ecology was one of my measures of merit when it came to food, wouldn’t it make more sense to eat meat from a locally pastured beef cow than to buy salmon shipped in from Alaska or processed blocks of tofu made from soybeans grown a thousand miles away on industrially farmed land where diverse prairie habitat once thrived? If humaneness was another of my measures, wouldn’t it make more sense to shoot a deer who had lived a truly free life than to buy even the happiest, most local, backyard chicken? What meat could be more ethical than fifty or more pounds of venison resulting from a single, quick death?

I wanted the creatures I was eating to have lived well and died swiftly. As much as possible, I wanted their journeys to my plate to resemble the workings of nature: the grouse snatched from the air by a great-horned owl, the minnow plucked from the water by a kingfisher.

He didn’t encourage me to be interested in firearms, but he did want me to be at ease with them—careful and unafraid, respecting them for their explosive power, seeing them simply as a kind of tool.

Lord, let me kill clean … and if I can’t kill clean, let me miss clean.

It is the utilitarian hunter dependent on the hunt for sustenance,” Kimber writes, “who will have the greatest knowledge of, and respect for, his wild brethren and whose culture will make that knowledge and respect manifest in its arts, rituals, myths, and day-to-day behavior.

But he pointed out that disrespect of nature and animals is not unique to thoughtless hunters. As a whole, our society operates with little regard for its impacts. From rapacious development and logging to ecologically devastating agricultural practices and the application of toxic herbicides to suburban lawns, we inflict enormous damage—most of which we never see.

He argued that the reformation of American hunting depends on recreating it as “the disciplined, mindful, sacred activity it once was for our species.” Likewise, he suggested that the redemption of our culture as a whole depends on bringing greater compassion and restraint to our relationships with animals and nature, on returning to an attitude of reverence, humility, and mutual regard. And he contended that such a cultural reformation can only be accomplished if more of us participate in “the world that feeds us”—whether by hunting, fishing, gardening, or growing a bit of lettuce or basil in a pot by a window.

I still sought a respectful, holistic way of eating and living, my decision to hunt shaped by the same concerns that shaped my veganism. My inner aim had also been the same. Having concluded that I needed some animal protein in my diet and that some harm to animals was inevitable in even the gentlest forms of agriculture, integrity and alignment could only come from taking responsibility for at least a portion of the killing.

Gardening reminds us to look deeply into our food, to contemplate our interactions with earth, plants, and animals, to see both the harmony and the harm.

The question now wasn’t whether my eating inflicted harm, but what kind of harm.

Collectively, nothing was lost. Grouse droppings and owl pellets—eventually even the body of the owl itself—all returned to the forest soil, to aspen roots. I knew that industrial food systems, in contrast, took a lasting toll on the land, giving little or nothing back. They were linear, not cyclical.

Whenever any of us sit down for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or a snack, it’s likely that deer were killed to protect some of the food we eat and the beverages we drink … Everyone in modern North America who lives each day on agricultural foods belongs to an ecological network that necessarily involves deer hunting.

Why should dropping trees seem so different from beheading stalks of broccoli or uprooting the wild raspberries and milkweed that encroached on the garden? Did killing trees feel different merely because they were bigger?

In the extreme of anthropomorphism, we project human personalities, typically those of children, on to characters like Bambi. On the flip side, in the extreme of anthropocentrism, we deny animals any semblance of value as beings, treating them as nothing more than “live stock”—living, fleshy commodities. In grocery- store coolers we do not see “animals” but “meat,” prepackaged, even pre-prepared for our convenience. In both extremes, we remain self-absorbed, caught up in our own fantasies. Stuck there, how can we hope to understand animals, or even respect them?

Maybe the T-shirt should read, “I Clawed and Clawed But Couldn’t Escape the Food Web—Soon I’ll Be Feeding Vegetables.

When men and women put on blaze orange hunting vests or camo, they temporarily lose their individuality beneath the layers of symbolism loaded on the image of hunter.

Why should fishing, a thoroughly predatory activity, be so much more socially acceptable than hunting, and so much more popular? Nearly 30 million Americans fish each year, while only 12.5 million hunt.

Killing,” he wrote, “is not something to be taken lightly.” Even after four decades as a hunter, he felt a wave of conflicting emotions at every kill: sorrow mixed with elation and gratitude.

They took to woods and fields, as Stange writes, “for the same inner reasons they always have: for food, of course, but also for connection, and for knowledge about what it means to be human in our complex and increasingly fragile world.

What I did need was the honest confrontation, the reminder of what it means to eat. This one creature’s heart had stopped beating, but its flesh was far from lifeless. It would go on, not as bobcat or coyote or owl, but as human.

I go to Nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in tune once more. —John Burroughs, “The Gospel of Nature

She sat by the brook, needing to hear the rhythm of the water.

Joseph Campbell once said that the “essence of life is that it lives by killing and eating.

Hunting brings us into close contact with land and animals. Approached with humility, such contact can help us recall our place in the natural world, reminding us to celebrate all those lives intertwined with ours. Approached with arrogance, it only alienates us further.

Like Nhat Hanh—who, in a passage entitled “Tangerine Meditation,” reminds us not only to notice our food’s taste and fragrance, but also to visualize “the blossoms in the sunshine and in the rain”—I saw beauty in my food.

In tofu, I saw the rifles and shotguns used to plug deer in soybean fields. In grains, I saw the birds, mice, and rabbits sliced and diced by combines. In cabbage, I saw caterpillars killed by insecticides, organic or not. In salad greens, I saw a whitetail cut open and dragged around the perimeter of a farm field, the scent of blood warning other deer not to eat the organic arugula and radicchio destined for upscale restaurants and grocery stores in San Francisco. In Joey’s kale and berries, I saw smoke-bombed burrows. Even in the vegetables from our garden—broccoli and green beans, lettuce and snap peas—I saw the wild grasses we uprooted, the earthworms we chopped with our shovels, the beetles I crushed between thumb and forefinger, the woodchucks I shot, and the dairy cows whose manure and carcasses fed the soil. In my own life and in the lives around me—heron and trout, hawk and hare, coyote and deer—I saw that the entire living, breathing, eating world was more beautiful and more terrible than I had imagined. Like Richard, I saw that sentient beings fed on sentient beings.

I saw, too, that Cath and I would be eating more than this whitetail. We would also be eating everything the deer had eaten.

—Pero el arzobispo de San Salvador piensa que es el ejército —afirmaba el entrevistador. —Es lo que piensa él, pero está equivocado, no tiene datos, sólo es mera especulación sin fundamento. La revista, que se publicaba todos los primeros de mes, destacaba la entrevista de monseñor Tovar sobre el resto del contenido. —El ejército guerrillero fue el culpable del asesinato de los padres jesuitas. Tovar Astorga fue categórico. Y eso se publicó el día 1 de enero. Dos días más tarde, en una conferencia de prensa con medios, el presidente Alfredo Cristiani reconoció que el asesinato de los padres jesuitas había sido llevado a cabo por un grupo de militares salvadoreños, y aseguró que se llevarían a juicio y que los culpables serían castigados. El día del anuncio de Cristiani hubo una pequeña misa de celebración en la comunidad jesuita. El juicio se celebró meses más tarde. Monseñor Tovar nunca fue elegido Arzobispo de San Salvador.

Ako otvoriš svoje oko, izgledat ćeš podoban samo za sebe (u svojim očima svako je najbolji). Ali ako dospiješ do ovog gledanja, znat ćeš da sam bez premca. O dušo, ili ti udji u ovu kuću ili ja napuštam tijelo. Svakod dana trpim neugodnost hladnoće, i decembarskog snijega u nadi za proljećem. Božija ljubav je veoma jaka tvrdjava, tovar svoje duše nosim unutar njenih zidina. Za ljubav prijatelja podnosim aroganciju svakog neznanca kamenog srca, za ljubav ruže podnosim trnje.

Bufetár kedysi pátral po úspešnom spôsobe, ako sa zbaviť dotieravých a otravných zákazníkov. Našiel ho; prestal objednávať tovar. Na všetky otázky odpovedal buď mlčaním, alebo slovom nemáme. Zákazníci postupne prestali do bufetu dochádzať a bufetár si mohol krátievať dlhé chvíle hádzaním šípok do terča, hraním biliardu a maľovaním krajiniek. Nik ho už neobťažoval. Potom však bufetárovi svitla možnosť prevziať bufet do akéhosi prenájmu a situácia sa zmenila. Dovtedy poberal bufetár nízky plat, ani rodinu si nemohol založiť. Náhle sa pred ním otvorila možnosť vysokého zárobku vo vlastnom podniku. Siahol po tejto možnosti, spísal so sklárňou zmluvu a stal sa vlastným pánom. Naobjednával tovar, bufet dal vymaľovať a na steny rozvešal vlastnoručne namaľované vkusné obrazy. Neuvedomil si, že už dávno si všetci odvykli k nemu chodievať a nič na tom nezmenila ani krikľavá reklamná tabuľa nad vchodom. Odvtedy sa bufetár usiluje získať zákazníkov späť a nedarí sa mu to ani pomocou najvyberanejších lahôdok a najjemnejších nápojov, ktoré naobjednával. Bufet zíva prázdnotou a bufetár si musí privyrábať drobnými lúpežnými vraždami v nočnej fabrike.

I realize now that all those times I had said, “I want to be thin,” I actually meant: I want to be loved. I want to be happy. I want to be seen. I want to be free. We are taught that thin is synonymous with beauty, power, and love. But, in fact, it is not. Beauty is not something women earn; it is something people are. Power is not achieved through the dogged pursuit of homogeneity; it is something that is innate within us and that is strengthened by nonconformity. Love is not something people earn through obedience; it is each person’s birthright. We cannot starve our way into being loved, into being free. You Have the Right to Remain Fat (pp. 42-43)

(...) la atención sexual masculina no solicitada y el impulso de controlar los cuerpos femeninos van de la mano.

Se nos enseña que la delgadez es sinónimo de belleza, poder y amor. Pero, de hecho, no lo es. La belleza no es algo que las mujeres se ganen: es algo que la gente es. El poder no se obtiene a través de la obstinada persecución de la homogeneidad; es algo innato, está en nuestro interior y el inconformismo le da fuerzas. El amor no es algo que la gente se gane obedeciendo; es un derecho de nacimiento de cada persona.

My body used to belong to me. When I was a little girl, my favorite part of the day was when we got home from errands or preschool. I would push the front door open with both small hands and run—through the living room filled with plastic-wrapped furniture, past the washer dryer that made funny sounds that I liked, past my bedroom filled with a growing collection of Winnie the Pooh toys—into the bathroom.

La Conferencia Episcopal es la asamblea de obispos de la Iglesia de cada nación, un órgano permanente que acuna a los representantes más altos de la Iglesia de un país. A la sede de la Iglesia viajaron monseñor Tovar Astorga, presidente de la Conferencia Episcopal, monseñor Revelo, que era el segundo al mando,

Ese diciembre de 1989, el Gobierno creó tres comisiones de alto nivel para visitar tres puntos estratégicos. Una viajaría a Washington. Otra, a Madrid. Y la tercera, al Vaticano. Su objetivo era informar sobre lo que acontecía en el caso de los padres jesuitas. Eran tres lugares clave en los acontecimientos que se decantarían en los próximos días. Tanto a Madrid como a Washington el Gobierno envió a políticos pertenecientes al partido de la derecha. Se dijo lo que se había repetido como versión oficial en San Salvador, pero con muchos más detalles que pretendían inculpar a la guerrilla. La más interesante era la comisión enviada al Vaticano. La Conferencia Episcopal es la asamblea de obispos de la Iglesia de cada nación, un órgano permanente que acuna a los representantes más altos de la Iglesia de un país. A la sede de la Iglesia viajaron monseñor Tovar Astorga, presidente de la Conferencia Episcopal, monseñor Revelo, que era el segundo al mando, y un cura llamado Manuel Barreiro, secretario de la Conferencia. Así que la impresión que se quiso dar ante el Vaticano era que los obispos de la nación estaban en pleno a favor de lo que estos tres hombres informarían.

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The diet industry was using language like “easy” and “simple” to manipulate dieters everywhere into believing that if their programs didn’t work it was because we were using them incorrectly.

They are accepting unacceptable relationships and sexual experiences because they feel like they don’t deserve any better.

my fat body is frequently attacked on the grounds that I am not beautiful enough to exist because apparently that is my job as a woman.

I saw my body as the only commodity I had to trade for love.

Rather than being taught that you deserve love simply because you are a person, you are taught that love is something people must earn through particular socially sanctioned methods. For many women, that method is weight control.

And any movement that does not center collective liberation is not one in which I can invest.

... pitali deve je li im težak tovar, odgovore da nije, ali im je teško što ih magarac vodi.

I think about the thousand ways that the women in my family were silently (and sometimes outright) expected to give up their lives, their dreams, and their desires, so that they could become the glorified babysitters for the men in their lives who wanted a legacy but none of the responsibility of child-rearing.

Any future that doesn't center the eradication of oppression and collective freedom is not a future worth imagining.

You cannot earn freedom through conformity. You cannot buy your way in And we can only claim it when we recognize it is already ours.

Where was he staying?” Rice said, “We checked at El Tovar, Bright Angel, Thunderbird, and the rest of the possible places. He wasn’t booked at any of them.” “He had to stay somewhere.” “It could have been at one of the campgrounds, either inside the park or nearby,” noted Lambert. “Okay, he took the train up here. But if he came from DC he probably first flew into Sky Harbor. He might have stayed somewhere there until he went to Williams, Arizona. That’s where the train leaves from, right?” Lambert nodded. “There’s a hotel at the train depot. He might have stayed there.” “Have you made a search down here?” “We covered as much ground as we could. No trace so far. And we’re losing the light.” Pine took all this in. In the distance came the sharp bark of a coyote followed by the echoing rattle of a snake. There might be a standoff going on out there between predators as the lights of nature grew dim, thought Pine. The muscular walls of the canyon held a complex series of fragile ecosystems. It was the human factor that had intruded here. Nature always seemed to get on all right until people showed up. She turned her head to the left, where a long way away

In hindsight, I realize that the gun changed my frog hunting for the worse. The killing became too efficient, too coldly distant. And there was the chance of injury.

We were fishing for lunch, not bragging rights.

Between catching and cooking, each fish was measured, its length jotted in a little spiral-bound logbook that Willie had encouraged me to start: date, length of fish, lure or bait used, any special notes such as food found in the mouth or stomach. Though he had spent much of his life in cities and still lived in the Boston area, Willie observed the world with a naturalist’s eye. He knew that keeping track of details would help me understand the fish we hunted and the ecology of the place.

Was that when I first began to see that I could not achieve utopia by planting a vegetable garden? Was that when I first knew that nature would not bend to my will or be chased away, either by my cleverness or by the ferocity of my bluff?

Every acre of agricultural land I had ever seen—every cow or sheep pasture, every wheat or soybean or vegetable field—was once forest, wetland, prairie: another kind of land. Regardless of whether the farming was done well or poorly, its initial establishment in all those places had required conquest, eviction of the creatures that lived there before, and conversion of the land to a new use. And maintaining it required constant defense against nature’s efforts at reclamation.

No matter what I ate, habitat had already been sacrificed. No matter what I ate, animals would be killed.

I recognized that yogurt production involved the killing of calves as surely as soybean production involved the killing of deer.

The hardwood frames of both couch and table were simple: no unnecessary flourishes, just crisp, elegant lines executed by a masterful hand, the kind of lines I remembered from the bunk bed I used to lie in as a boy, listening to the bullfrogs sing their echoing evening chorus.

Wasn’t there something similar, I mused, in his two favorite pastimes—fishing and cards? In both lay the challenge of honing his formidable skills, paired with the inescapable knowledge that he was up against chance, fate, forces totally beyond his control.

Performing femininity extra-special hard feels like a particular expectation of me because I am a fat woman and my bigness always makes others call my gender into question.

It’s important to be clear that this performance of white femininity and white gentility is just that—a performance. As starched and polished and pearl-bedecked as that performance is, at its core is the notion of submission and the idea that through submission we can maintain privilege.

PREDNOST VJERNIKA NAD NEVJERNICIMA Vjernik i griješnik istu vodu piju, isto ih Sunce grije, spavaju, rade, naslaživaju, ali medju njima je razlika, kao što i pčela i osa sisaju sa istog cvijeta, samo što pčela daje med a osa otrov. Vjernik ne može biti štetan faktor u društvu. On je koristan sebi i drugima. I danas se čudo može desiti, ako se mi popravimo. Bez obzira na druge, svako sam ide u mezar, i svoj tovar nosi sa sobom, kada bi svi ljudi na svijetu griješili, a ti sam vjerovao - ništa ti neće naškoditi, ili kada bi ti sam griješio, a svi drugi vjerovali - ništa ti oni neće pomoći.