Twa Quotes

In 1933-34, the Belgians conducted a census in order to issue ‘ethnic’ identity cards, which labelled every Rwandan as either Hutu (85%) of Tutsi (14%) or Twa (1%). The identity cards made it virtually impossible for Hutus to become Tutsis, and permitted the Belgians to perfect the administration of an apartheid system rooted in the myth of Tutsi superiority… Whatever Hutu and Tutsi identity may have stood for in the pre-colonial state no longer mattered; the Belgians had made ‘ethnicity’ the defining feature of Rwandan existence.

I doobt the fau't's nae sae muckle i' my temper as i' my hert. It's mair love that I want, Tibbie. Gin I lo'ed my neebor as mysel', I cudna be sae ill-natert till him; though 'deed, whiles, I'm angry eneuch at mysel' — a hantle waur nor at him." "Verra true, Thamas," answered Tibbie. "Perfect love casteth oot fear, 'cause there's nae room for the twa o' them; and I daursay it wad be the same wi' the temper.

How far can the airlines go?” replied a clearly irritated TWA spokesman when asked whether his employer planned to make any changes to its boarding procedures. “Restrict everyone from the terminal except those who have a ticket? Stop everyone from entering the airport area except those who

Here’s to Auld Lang Syne!” said the Count; holding the glancing cup on high. Then, looking at Mrs. Bretton.— “We twa ha’ paidlet i’ the burn Fra morning sun till dine, But seas between us braid ha’ roared Sin’ auld lane syne. “And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup, And surely I’ll be mine; And we’ll taste a cup o’ kindness yet For auld lang syne.

Robert Lehman—who often told his partners, “I bet on people”—made Lehman the driving financial force behind RCA and the birth of television, TWA, Pan Am, Hertz, several Hollywood studios, and various department store and oil and rubber giants. Lehman Brothers was at the epicenter of those business forces that have shaped not just the American economy but the American culture as well. By 1967 the House of Lehman was responsible for $3.5 billion in underwriting. In volume, Lehman was among the top four investment banks.

THE TERRORIST ATTACKS came one after another during 1985, all broadcast live on network television to tens of millions of Americans. In June two Lebanese terrorists hijacked TWA Flight 847, murdered a Navy diver on board, and negotiated while mugging for cameras on a Beirut runway. In October the Palestinian terrorist Abu Abbas hijacked the cruise ship Achille Lauro in Italy, murdered a sixty-nine-year-old Jewish-American tourist, Leon Klinghoffer, dumped his body overboard, and ultimately escaped to Baghdad with Egyptian and Italian collaboration. Just after Christmas, Palestinian gunmen with the Abu Nidal Organization opened fire on passengers lined up at El Al ticket counters in Vienna and Rome, killing nineteen people, among them five Americans. One of the American victims was an eleven-year-old girl named Natasha Simpson who died in her father’s arms after a gunman unloaded an extra round in her head just to make sure. The attackers, boyish products of Palestinian refugee camps, had been pumped full of amphetamines by their handlers just before the holiday attacks.

Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod, I rin Ourhailit with my feble fantasie, Lyk til a leif that fallis from a trie Or til a reid ourblawin with the wind. Twa gods gyds me: the ane of tham is blind, Ye, and a bairn brocht up in vanitie; The nixt a wyf ingenrit of the se, And lichter nor a dauphin with hir fin. Unhappie is the man for evirmair That teils the sand and sawis in the aire; Bot twyse unhappier is he, I lairn, That feidis in his hairt a mad desyre, And follows on a woman throw the fyre, Led be a blind and teichit be a bairn.

We dinna hear 'at the Saviour himsel' ever sae muckle as smiled," said he. "Weel, that wad hae been little wonner, wi' what he had upo' 'm. But I'm nae sure that he didna, for a' that. Fowk disna aye tell whan a body lauchs. I'm thinkin' gin ane o' the bairnies that he took upo' 's knee,-- an' he was ill-pleased wi' them 'at wad hae sheued them awa'-- gin ane o' them had hauden up his wee timmer horsie, wi' a broken leg, he wadna hae wrocht a miracle maybe, I daursay, but he wad hae smilet, or maybe lauchen a wee, and he wad hae men't the leg some gait or ither to please the bairnie. And gin 't had been me, I wad raither hae had the men'in o' 's twa han's, wi' a knife to help them maybe, nor twenty miracles upo' 't.

Flash forward to the 1980s and 1990s and it is not foreign fascists we have to put out of our minds in order to fall asleep at night, even if we do fantasize about hostile forces doing us great harm. (Witness the immediate presumption after the Oklahoma City bombing and the crash of TWA Flight 800 that Middle Eastern terrorists were to blame.) Mostly our fears are domestic, and so are the eerie invaders who populate them—killer kids, men of color, monster moms. The stories told about them are, like “War of the Worlds,” oblique expressions of concern about problems that Americans know to be pernicious but have not taken decisive action to quash—problems such as hunger, dilapidated schools, gun proliferation, and deficient health care for much of the U.S. population.

He had a fresh change of clothes in a battered TWA flightbag; he had planned to change after making love tot he fancy cunt. No he hurled the bag across the shop. It bounced off the far wall and landed on top of a dresser. He walked across to it and batted it aside. He drop-kicked as it came down, and it hit the ceiling before falling on its side like a dead woodchuck. Then he simply stood, breathing hard, inhaling the heavy smells, staring vacantly at three chairs he had promised to cane by the end of the week. His thumbs were jammed into his belt. His fingers were curled into fists. His lower lip was pooched out. He looked like a kid sulking after a bawling-out. "CHEAP-SHIT!" he breathed, and went after the flightbag. He made as if to kick it again, then changed his mind and picked it up.

nine-hour flight to California aboard a TWA Super Constellation, with room for no fewer than sixty-four passengers. Next we see the simple funfair of the original Disneyland. At the hotel, the Barstows are jubilant that the chic swimming pool is open to them. Yes, the days when such luxury was reserved for the stylish elite are over. The family deals with its budgetary constraints by not eating in restaurants but picnicking outdoors. There is no hint of any doubt or cynicism. Every minute of the movie is filled with sun, innocence and boundless enthusiasm. It’s true, Barstow says at the end, Walt Disney is right: Disneyland is ‘the happiest place on earth’. The entire family is ‘forever grateful to Scotch brand cellophane tape’ for the experience. The closing chorus of this charming cantata

Nie istnieje coś takiego, jak dobry wpływ, panie Gray. Każdy wpływ jest niemoralny - niemoralny z naukowego punktu widzenia. - Dlaczego? - Kiedy bowiem się na kogoś wpływa, daje mu się własną duszę. Taki człowiek nie ma już własnych myśli, nie płoną w nim jego własne namiętności. Własne cnoty nie są już dla niego realne. Także jego grzechy, jeśli w ogóle jest coś takiego, są zapożyczone. Staje się echem muzyki kogoś innego, aktorem odgrywającym rolę, która nie została dla niego napisana. Celem życia człowieka jest rozwijanie samego siebie. Doskonałe poznanie własnej natury - oto po co tu jesteśmy. W dzisiejszych czasach ludzie boją się samych siebie. Zapomnieli o najwyższym obowiązku, obowiązku, jaki każdy z nas ma wobec samego siebie. Oczywiście są miłosierni. Karmią głodnych i odziewają żebraków. Ale ich własne dusze są nagie i głodne. Nasza rasa utraciła całą odwagę. Może zresztą nie mieliśmy jej nigdy. Lęk przed społeczeństwem, które jest fundamentem moralności, i lęk przed Bogiem, który jest tajemnicą religii - one nami rządzą. A jednak (...) uważam, że gdyby choć jeden człowiek przeżył swe życie w pełni, nadał formę każdemu uczuciu, wyraził każdą myśl, zrealizował każde marzenie, uważam, że świat otrzymałby tak świeży impuls radości, że wyzbylibyśmy się wszystkich naszych średniowiecznych ułomności i powrócili do helleńskiego ideału - a może nawet do czegoś jeszcze doskonalszego i bogatszego niż ten ideał. Niestety, nawet najodważniejszy z nas boi się samego siebie. Tragicznym przedłużeniem okaleczeń, jakim poddają się dzicy, są szpecące nasze życie wyrzeczenia, które dodatkowo ściągają na nas karę. Każdy impuls, który usiłujemy w sobie zdusić, rozplenia się w naszym umyśle i zatruwa nas. Ciało, grzesząc, oczyszcza się poprzez działanie. Wtedy nie pozostaje nic, poza wspomnieniem przyjemności czy luksusem, jakim jest żal. Jedynym sposobem przezwyciężenia pokus jest uleganie im. Zacznij się opierać, a twa dusza rozchoruje się z tęsknoty za tym, czego sobie odmówiła, z pragnienia tego, co jej potworne prawa uczyniły potwornym i bezprawnym. Ktoś powiedział, że wielkie wydarzenia tego świata zachodzą w umyśle. W umyśle też - i tylko w nim - pojawiają się największe grzechy tego świata.

This kind of speculation reached a high point with the Pentagon's initiative of creating a 'futures market in events', a stock market of prices for terrorist attacks or catastrophes. You bet on the probable occurrence of such events against those who don't believe they'll happen. This speculative market is intended to operate like the market in soya or sugar. You might speculate on the number of AIDS victims in Africa or on the probability that the San Andreas Fault will give way (the Pentagon's initiative is said to derive from the fact that they credit the free market in speculation with better forecasting powers than the secret services). Of course it is merely a step from here to insider trading: betting on the event before you cause it is still the surest way (they say Bin Laden did this, speculating on TWA shares before 11 September). It's like taking out life insurance on your wife before you murder her. There's a great difference between the event that happens (happened) in historical time and the event that happens in the real time of information. To the pure management of flows and markets under the banner of planetary deregulation, there corresponds the 'global' event- or rather the globalized non-event: the French victory in the World Cup, the year 2000, the death of Diana, The Matrix, etc. Whether or not these events are manufactured, they are orchestrated by the silent epidemic of the information networks. Fake events.

Using the castle to transition between lands was a visual trick Walt called a weenie. According to Disney historian Jim Korkis, during the development of Disneyland, Walt would come home late at night and usually enter his house through the kitchen, which was closer to the garage. He would walk into the kitchen and grab two uncooked hot dogs, or wieners, one for himself and one for his dog. Korkis said, "By wiggling the treat, Walt could get his dog to go from side to side, around in a circle, jump up and more. Both Walt and the dog loved the game and she was finally rewarded with the tasty and satisfying treat." "Each of the gateways into the lands offered weenies. The spinning carousel through the portal leading through Sleeping Beauty Castle called guests into Fantasyland. The stockade gates, the steam bellowing from the Mark Twain stern-wheeler, and the seeming infinite horizon beckoned guests to visit Frontierland. Over in Tomorrowland was the clock of the World and the TWA Moonliner ready for launch. Only Adventureland lacked a weenie. It was thought that if guests knew too much, it would not be much of an adventure.

BEHOLD MY WRATH SHALL DESTROY YOUR NATION BEHOLD MY WRATH SHALL SCATTER YOUR PEOPLE In my hand is a potters vessel of clay With a reed I scratch the NAME OF SUSA on the vessel of clay BEHOLD I THROW THE VESSEL OF CLAY UPON THE GROUND SUSA NOW LIES SCATTERED AS I CURSE THE CONDEMNED NATION OF SATAN USA WHICH IS SUSA

The whole place is now beginning to close down. At some of the booths the flares have been extinguished, and the occupants are busy packing up their wares and taking down their tents and wooden stalls. Huge vans have appeared upon the scene, and men in shirt sleeves are busily engaged in packing them. We accost a small dirty youth and ask him if the fair is moving. ‘We’ll be on the road in twa hours,’ he replies briefly. ‘What a life!’ ejaculates Tony. ‘Aye, it’s a fine life,’ echoes the boy. ‘Ye get seeing the wurrld in a fair.’ All mystery has departed from the fortune teller’s tent; it is merely a heap of dirty canvas. A large, fat woman with greasy black hair, and a red shawl pinned across her inadequately clad bosom, is dancing about with a flaming torch in her hand, directing operations in a shrill shrewish voice. ‘Guthrie’s sybil!’ says Tony sadly. ‘I’m afraid we’ve stayed too long at the party.’ ‘I think it is rather fun,’ I reply. ‘I like seeing things that I’m not meant to see

Ye canna mak a pudden oot o pig's meat, Ye canna big a hoose wi twa-three stays, Ye canna plant a tattie when the grund's weet, Ye canna ploo the hillside wi yer taes, And is it like, my love to be Thoo'll kin to mak a wife o me? The whitemae's filings arena done in wan nest, The minnow's aten by the eel alive, When cat and dog lie doon there's poor rest, The wild bee maks a fight within the hive, And is it like, my love, to be I'll can mak a wife to thee?

At Falkland Palace, Andrew Melville famously reminded James VI in 1596 that: [t]hair is twa Kings and twa Kingdomes in Scotland. Thair is Christ Jesus the King, and His kingdom, the Kirk, whase subject King James the Saxt is, and of whase kingdome nocht a king, not a lord, not a heid, but a member.

The stories are rampant that Carl is going to take over TWA, which has been miraculously transformed from being the third-least-respected company in the United States into a national treasure.

From Ashwood’s perspective, those who trusted Carl to rebuild TWA were naïve from the outset. “A leopard doesn’t change his spots. Icahn was, and is, a financial engineer. He can’t run a business. He can’t run a corner deli. If he ran the deli and the freezer broke, he wouldn’t fix it. He’d try to sell the spoiled milk rather than have the freezer fixed.

Colonel Sanders as played by Hot Daddy Harrison Ford, cracking the whip on some island plantation, topping every native boy, stopping only long enough to enjoy a refreshing Coca Cola. Because every white guy is a blonde, Aryan top. All of us are the Christian Soldiers of Capitalism that flew TWA into your country, depositing AIDs in your brothels and IMF loans in your banks.

When I left home, I faithfully carried my copy of Sunset Song onward into life. Each reading brought a new layer and deeper understanding, but it was the notion of Two Chrisses that always echoed in my soul. Through Chris Guthrie, I understood the inferiority complex I felt as a working-class Scot as I began to move in different circles. I remember arriving at drama school with Doric words in my mouth, as other students looked blankly at my attempts to find an English equivalent. I'd then return home and feel 'posh' amongst my Scots speaking family. I was part of two worlds, but felt like I belonged in neither. The feeling persistently lingered but surfaced in earnest during the pandemic. At that time, I was working with the Scots Language Centre on their 'Scots Wark' project, and I was asked to deliver a creative learning resource. My offering was called 'The Twa Chrisses: A Love Letter to Sunset Song', a cathartic and empowering story to scrieve, but it also made my fingers itch to write a full theatrical adaptation. Somehow, gorgeous synchronicity ensued when Andrew Panton, Artistic Director of Dundee Rep, and Finn den Hertog contacted me with this very idea.

For Donald, Fred’s methodical dismantling of his older brother was a master class in how to identify and exploit other people’s weaknesses, and eventually break them down. Donald was still a teenager when he began his apprenticeship, acting as his father’s proxy to humiliate Freddy for daring to strike out on his own to fly 707s for TWA. Freddy had never considered Donald a rival—he was too young, too arrogant, too impulsive for that. But after a brief period of looking up to his older brother, Donald did consider Freddy a rival—until he no longer was.

Vla­di­mir, Bon­dy i ja tak bar­dzo lubi­li­śmy piwo, że gdy przy­no­szo­no nam do sto­łu po pierw­szym kuflu, wpra­wia­li­śmy w popłoch całą gospo­dę, nabie­ra­li­śmy pia­ny w dło­nie i nacie­ra­li­śmy nią sobie twa­rze, wcie­ra­li­śmy pia­nę we wło­sy jak Żydzi, któ­rzy sma­ru­ją pej­sy wodą z cukrem, a że przy dru­gim piwie powta­rza­li­śmy ten zabieg z pia­ną, świe­ci­li­śmy się i pach­nie­li­śmy piwem na kilo­metr. Przede wszyst­kim jed­nak – to były wygłu­py – był to wyraz nasze­go zachwy­tu piwem, nie­okieł­zna­ne­go zachwy­tu tym, że jeste­śmy mło­dzi. Byliśmy entuzjastami piwa…

That was the first, but by no means the last, inaccurate, contradictory, and implausible thing said about the crash of TWA Flight 800.

Catching a TWA flight to Miami was an uncoordinated boy who planned to slip at night into aquariums and open negotiations with the dolphins, who would succeed man. He was kissing his mother passionately goodbye, using his tongue. "I'll write, ma," he kept saying. "Write by WASTE," she said, "remember. The government will open it if you use the other. The dolphins will be mad." "I love you, ma," he said. "Love the dolphins," she advised him. "Write by WASTE.

Le Corbusier’s chapel at Ronchamp can be seen as a crab, a duck, a hand, a hat and much else. Utzon’s Sydney Opera House can be seen as shells, a flower, or sails. The soaring curves of Saarinen’s TWA terminal in New York symbolise flight. The Archigram building concepts of the 1960s were designed as pods. Significantly, all these buildings were curvilinear. Curves ‘carry’ ideas from the natural world. Rectilinearity [stet] is a metaphor for intellectualism and the works of man. Renaissance architecture was a metaphor for reason and delight, restoring order after the chaos of the Middle Ages. Thoreau’s house, by Walden Pond, was a New Englander’s protest against materialism. Hundertwasser’s Viennese architecture is a metaphor for the reassertion of nature and emotion, after the brutalism of the twentieth century.

Certainly, Mr Winter," she said crisply. "TWA flight 401, departing Boston tomorrow from Logan Airport, gate 12, at 8:45 p.m., arriving Buenos Aires, Argentina, at 6:01 a.m. That's with a stopover in Dallas. Four fares at seven hundred and ninety-five dollars one way, let's see" — she punched in some more numbers on the computer — "that comes to a total of three thousand one hundred and eighty dollars plus tax, and you chose to pay for that with your American Express card, am I correct?

So the distinction between people was caused by the great god, and the Bushmen, who want only to be left in peace, do not compete in issues which they cannot win. They are only frightened by other peoples and hope to be spared their attention. Kung Bushmen call all strangers zhu dole, which means “stranger” but, literally, “dangerous person”; they call all non-Bushmen zo si, which means “animals without hooves,” because, they say, non-Bushmen are angry and dangerous like lions and hyenas. But Kung Bushmen call themselves zhu twa si, the harmless people. Twa means “just” or “only,” in the sense that you say: “It was just the wind” or “It is only me.

Chúa Là Nơi Con Nương Tựa Dạo tháng 6 năm 1985, những người theo dõi truyền hình bên Tây phương vẫn còn nhớ mãi hình ảnh chiếc máy bay đang đậu ở phi trường, với viên phi công trong buồng lái ngó ra ngoài nói chuyện với một số phóng viên, trong khi có một người đứng bên cạnh, cầm súng dí sát vào đầu viên phi công. Ðó là hình ảnh của viên phi công John Testrake trên chiếc máy bay của hãng hàm không TA, bị không tặc uy hiếp trên đường bay từ thủ đô Hên của Hy Lạp về La Mã. Trong suốt 17 ngày, không tặc đã dùng lựu đạn và súng uy hiếp viên phi công, buộc ông phải bay từ Bút qua Alger rồi bay về Bút cả thảy bốn lần. Họ cũng đã bắn chết một hành khách, đánh đập một số hành khách khác. Cuối cùng họ đã để cho 39 con tin trên máy bay được đem đến một căn nhà ở Bút rồi được chở về Ðoác trước khi được trả tự do. Mặc dù không phải là con tin trên chiếc máy bay đó, nhiều người cũng thấy căng thẳng hồi hộp chỉ vì theo dõi tin tức trên truyền hình hay truyền thanh... Mới đây, viên phi công John Testrake có thuật lại kinh nghiệm hi hữu của mình. Anh nói như sau: "Lúc đó, tôi biết chắc chắn là có Chúa ở với tôi, nên tôi không những không sợ hãi mà còn tràn ngập bình an tin tưởng là khác". Anh cũng nói thêm rằng anh đã theo đạo năm lên 25 tuổi, nhưng lúc bấy giờ anh chưa thật sự thức tỉnh, bắt đầu đọc Kinh Thánh và cầu nguyện một cách đều đặn. Nhờ có Kinh Thánh mang trong mình, cho nên trong suốt 17 ngày bị uy hiếp, anh vẫn không tỏ ra nao núng vì tin chắc có Chúa đang phù trợ anh... Cách đây hai năm, John Testrake đã xin thôi không làm việc cho háng hàng không TWA để tập trung vào các công việc từ thiện và để lái máy bay đưa các nhà truyền giáo đến các vùng xa xôi hẻo lánh. Ði đến đâu, anh cũng thuật lại việc Chúa đã giải cứu anh, nhất là việc Ngài đã ban cho anh bình an tin tưởng khi phải chạm trán với tử thần. Ai trong chúng ta có lẽ cũng hơn một lần chạm trán với tử thần hay kinh qua những giờ phút đen tối trong cuộc sống... Những người không có niềm tin thường sợ hãi bối rối vì không biết những gì đang chờ đợi mình bên kia cuộc sống. Những người có niềm tin hẳn không là những con người không biết sợ hãi, nhưng họ tin rằng bên cạnh họ luôn có Ðấng che chở phù trợ họ. Chúng ta có thái độ nào khi đứng trước những giờ phút nguy ngập, những thử thách trong cuộc sống? Chúng ta có tin tưởng rằng có Ðấng luôn ở bên cạnh chúng ta, để giữ gìn, phù hô chúng ta không? Với niềm tin vững vào Tình Yêu của Ðấng luôn có mặt bên cạnh chúng ta, chắc chắn chúng ta có thái độ lạc quan hơn trước cuộc sống, chúng ta sẽ đối đầu với những khó khăn và thử thách với bình thản và vui tươi.