Xx Quotes

To: Christian Grey You've made me cry again. I love the iPad. I love the songs. I love the British Library App. I love you. Goodnight. Ana xx

Close your eyes and enjoy the rollercoaster that is life :) xx

Good morning, beautiful, call when you're awake. xx Adam.

Well we've left behind the 200X's, and we move onto the 20XX's. Maybe that will finally make us feel like we're living in the future, rather than a media controlled slave state where an iPhone is worth substantially more than a human life. Happy new year.

When one loves, it has nothing to do with sex.

Subject: Sundown Date: June 14 2011 09:35 To: Christian Grey Dear Completely & Utterly Smitten I love waking up with you, too. But I love being in bed with you and in elevators and on pianos and billiard tables and boats and desks and showers and bathtubs and strange wooden crosses with shackles and four poster beds with red satin sheets and boathouses and childhood bedrooms. Yours Sex Mad and Insatiable xx

Reading in no way obliges us to understand.

You’re lovely, and I will never hurt you how he hurt you. (That part was me.) Leon xx

작대기텔 SGJ8282 작대기텔레그램 i weed,THC 고농축 액상(떨액), 미국산 디스펜서리 그린버드 LSD (Blotter / Microdot / Liquid) 52 케타민 몰리, 브액, 아이스, 허브, 에더블, 우주오일, 신의 눈물 M 프로포폴, 에토미데이트, 떨, 마리화나, Hash, MDMA XX 아이스, 엑스터시,브액,몰리,작대기,찬술,차가운술 포시즌 209 시원한술,북한술,빙두 \ 강남,강북,관악구,천안,강동구,강서구,마포구,의정부  가격 판매 파는곳  구입 구매 구입처 판매처 A52 삽니다 팝니다 좌표 딜러인증

Shigure: Hey get off me Yukina: Why would I? I'm in the middle of tempting you

허브가격 SGJ8282 허브텔레그램 ☏ weed,THC 고농축 액상(떨액), 미국산 디스펜서리 그린버드 LSD (Blotter / Microdot / Liquid) 172 케타민 몰리, 브액, 아이스, 허브, 에더블, 우주오일, 신의 눈물 H 프로포폴, 에토미데이트, 떨, 마리화나, Hash, MDMA XX 아이스, 엑스터시,브액,몰리,작대기,찬술,차가운술 포시즌 329 시원한술,북한술,빙두 ⓭ 강남,강북,관악구,천안,강동구,강서구,마포구,의정부  가격 판매 파는곳  구입 구매 구입처 판매처 A172 삽니다 팝니다 좌표 딜러인증

코코카인구매 SGJ8282 코코카인텔레그램 ▤ weed,THC 고농축 액상(떨액), 미국산 디스펜서리 그린버드 LSD (Blotter / Microdot / Liquid) 112 케타민 몰리, 브액, 아이스, 허브, 에더블, 우주오일, 신의 눈물 I 프로포폴, 에토미데이트, 떨, 마리화나, Hash, MDMA XX 아이스, 엑스터시,브액,몰리,작대기,찬술,차가운술 포시즌 269 시원한술,북한술,빙두 た 강남,강북,관악구,천안,강동구,강서구,마포구,의정부  가격 판매 파는곳  구입 구매 구입처 판매처 A112 삽니다 팝니다 좌표 딜러인증

Whenever someone tells you that you're doing XYZ like a girl, then you can whip out, "Thank you, hater, you're my motivator," and then go back to being XX chromosome AF.

Chapter XX Happy’s the wooing That’s not long a-doing

Once when I was eight years old my grandmother asked me, what will you do when you grow up? And I answered, I want to die. I want to die when I grow up. I want to die soon. And I think my sister really liked that answer.

XX A learned man came to me once. He said, "I know the way, - come." And I was overjoyed at this. Together we hastened, Soon, too soon, were we Where my eyes were useless, And I knew not the ways of me feet. I clung to the hand of my friend; But at last he cried, "I am lost.

Any time you try to collapse the distance between your delusions about the past and what really happened, there is suffering involved." p. xx

he always got a lot of fun of acting like the other half of a half-wit ― Dashiell Hammett, The Dain Curse, ch XX

To pretend to ignore the enemy is the best way to seduce the enemy

han dil udaas ha magar ab na teri koi aas ha zamana chora tujhay apna banaya tu ne hamein thukraya zamana apnaya ab jab zaroorat hay mujhay zamany ki tujhay b nahi koi zarorat ab laut any ki teri in adaaon ko jan gya mein yeh wohi adat purani c masoom dilon say khelna han yeh wohi kahani c rabba tu dikha dena issy bhala rasta kahin na le bethy baduwa kisi tootay dil say ye larki jan k jo bani anjani c.........xx

I don't mined being lied to, but what ever you do never betray me

Thirty blocks, huh . . . too bad these leather boots don't have Feather Falling XX. I

Es una de esas fisonomías que se quedaron sin vender en el siglo XIX y que en el XX siguen sin encontrar postor.

Frank's phone beep-beeped and vibrated before he’d put it back in his pocket: Love to! xx Man. Two kisses already. The woman was a nymphomaniac.

I’ll be seeing ya, Molloy. xx

Happy Christmas, Clara. Xx. Yes, I know. I know that text doesn't look like much. But... actually. First note the comma. I feel proud of his comma, and of being his comma's recipient.

Сегашната ми най-голяма любов е Исак Башевис Сингер. Само два разказа съм чел - "Моят приятел Кафка" и "Ключът", но мога да заключа, че той е белетристът на XX в., както Пикасо в живописта, Чаплин в киното, Стравински в музиката. Радой Ралин [1982]

Este un lucru pe care nu l-am inventat noi, dar esența schimbării este următoarea: în întreg secolul XX, am transformat orașele din ceea ce au fost în orașe pentru automobile. Acum, în secolul XXI, trebuie să transformăm orașele înapoi, în orașe pentru oameni.

I tend the mobile now like an injured bird We text, text, text our significant words. I re-read your first, your second, your third, look for your small xx, feeling absurd. The codes we send arrive with a broken chord. I try to picture your hands, their image is blurred. Nothing my thumbs press will ever be heard. "Text

„Защо гледаме все към небето? - помисли си Данаил. - Уж не вярваме, не вярваме, а все към небето гледаме...

The passage, “And He rested on the seventh day” (Exod. xx. 11) is interpreted as follows: On the seventh Day the forces and laws were complete, which during the previous six days were in the state of being established for the preservation of the Universe. They were not to be increased or modified.

Excuse me while I throw this down, I’m old and cranky and tired of hearing the idiocy repeated by people who ought to know better. Real women do not have curves. Real women do not look like just one thing. Real women have curves, and not. They are tall, and not. They are brown-skinned, and olive-skinned, and not. They have small breasts, and big ones, and no breasts whatsoever. Real women start their lives as baby girls. And as baby boys. And as babies of indeterminate biological sex whose bodies terrify their doctors and families into making all kinds of very sudden decisions. Real women have big hands and small hands and long elegant fingers and short stubby fingers and manicures and broken nails with dirt under them. Real women have armpit hair and leg hair and pubic hair and facial hair and chest hair and sexy moustaches and full, luxuriant beards. Real women have none of these things, spontaneously or as the result of intentional change. Real women are bald as eggs, by chance and by choice and by chemo. Real women have hair so long they can sit on it. Real women wear wigs and weaves and extensions and kufi and do-rags and hairnets and hijab and headscarves and hats and yarmulkes and textured rubber swim caps with the plastic flowers on the sides. Real women wear high heels and skirts. Or not. Real women are feminine and smell good and they are masculine and smell good and they are androgynous and smell good, except when they don’t smell so good, but that can be changed if desired because real women change stuff when they want to. Real women have ovaries. Unless they don’t, and sometimes they don’t because they were born that way and sometimes they don’t because they had to have their ovaries removed. Real women have uteruses, unless they don’t, see above. Real women have vaginas and clitorises and XX sex chromosomes and high estrogen levels, they ovulate and menstruate and can get pregnant and have babies. Except sometimes not, for a rather spectacular array of reasons both spontaneous and induced. Real women are fat. And thin. And both, and neither, and otherwise. Doesn’t make them any less real. There is a phrase I wish I could engrave upon the hearts of every single person, everywhere in the world, and it is this sentence which comes from the genius lips of the grand and eloquent Mr. Glenn Marla: There is no wrong way to have a body. I’m going to say it again because it’s important: There is no wrong way to have a body. And if your moral compass points in any way, shape, or form to equality, you need to get this through your thick skull and stop with the “real women are like such-and-so” crap. You are not the authority on what “real” human beings are, and who qualifies as “real” and on what basis. All human beings are real. Yes, I know you’re tired of feeling disenfranchised. It is a tiresome and loathsome thing to be and to feel. But the tit-for-tat disenfranchisement of others is not going to solve that problem. Solidarity has to start somewhere and it might as well be with you and me

Some people will try to blow your candle out to make theirs shine brighter - don't let them! xx

XIX. An Opinion XX. A Plea XXI. Echoing Footsteps XXII. The Sea Still

Days XIX. An Opinion XX. A Plea XXI. Echoing Footsteps

În secolul XX, dragostea e un telefon care nu sună.

Padre, si usted fuera mujer entendería las razones y no me haría decir tantas avemarías Padre, ¿no se da cuenta? mi castigo de ahora es libertad en el siglo XX.

Deniers build their pseudo-arguments on traditional anti-Semitic stereotypes and imagery. They contend that Jews created the myth of the Holocaust in order to bilk the Germans out of billions of dollars and ensure the establishment of Israel. Once again the devious Jews have harmed innocent multitudes—Germans and Palestinians in particular—for the sake of their own financial and political ends. To someone nurtured by the soil of anti-Semitism, this makes perfect sense. -- The Eichmann Trial, page xx

People, nearly all of them, don’t know how to worry about others without being presumptuous, with finesse, with modesty. They think they know. My sister thought she knew. Knew the human race. . . . Knowledge doesn’t know. But that’s something few understand.

Fumi: So, what happened Asami-chan? Asami: Onii-chan's(big brother)... always said mean stuff and he's always been cold. He couldn't get along well with his ex-girlfriend and I thought that he wouldn't be able to get along with anyone else either. I'd always thought that he'd always be by my side. But it's different with Haruna! He's getting along so well with her! And on top of that, they might be OO and XX and they might get married!! He won't be only my Onii-chan anymore!! Fumi: Wow! You really approve of Haruna-chan, huh? I see!! Asami-chan really likes Haruna-chan!! Asami: Fumi-kun... were you even listening...?

(…) jest naiwnością mniemanie, jakoby zachwyt nasz wobec dzieła sztuki z nas samych pochodził: że zachwyt ten w sporej mierze nie rodzi się z ludzi, ale między ludźmi, i jest to tak jakbyśmy wzajemnie zmuszali się do zachwytu (choć nikt „osobiście” nie jest zachwycony). / It is naive to believe that the admiration for a masterpiece is spontaneous. The admiration, to a great extent, is not born within people but between people, as if we forced each other to admire (while no one is “personally” enraptured). (Dziennik, 1956, XX, Wtorek I)

I'm Perfect at Feelings,
 so I have no problem telling you
 why you cried over the third lost
 metal or the mousetrap. I knew
 that orgasms weren't your fault 
and that feeling of keeping solid
 in yourself but wanting an ecstatic
 black hole was just bad beauty. 

 Certain loves were perfect
 in the daytime and had every 
right to express carnally behind
 the copy machine and there are 
no hard feelings for the boozy 
sodomy and sorry XX daisy chain,
 whenever it felt right for you.

 And when the moment of soft 
levitation with erasing hands 
made you feel dirty, like
 the main person to think up love
 in the first place, I knew that.
 It's okay, you're an innocent
 with the brilliance of an animal stuffing yourself sick on a kill.
 Don't, don't feel like the runt alien 
on my ship: I get you. I know
 the dimensions of your wishing 
and losing and don't think you
 a glutton with petty beefs. But
 even I, who know your triggers,

 your emblematic sacs of sad fury,
 I understand why the farthest fat trees 
sliver down with your disappointment 
and why the big sense of the world,
 wrong before you, shrugs but
 somewhere grasps your spinning,
 stunning, alone. But you have me.

You're a monster. You'll go to hell." "Of course I will. Someone needs to take the throne.

I speak without knowing it. I speak with my body and I do so unbeknownst to myself. Thus I always say more than I know. This is where I arrive at the meaning of the word "subject" in analytic discourse. What speaks without knowing it makes me "I," subject of the verb. That doesn't suffice to bring me into being. That has nothing to do with what I am forced to put in — enough knowledge for it to hold up, but not one drop more.

Điều mà người ta sợ hãi thật ra chẳng đến nỗi quá tồi tệ như người ta thường tưởng tượng ra. Nỗi sợ hãi mà người ta cứ để lớn dần lên trong tâm trí còn đáng sợ hơn nhiều so với thực tế.

Ombrosa non c’è più. Guardando il cielo sgombro, mi domando se è davvero esistita. Quel frastaglio di rami e foglie, biforcazioni, lobi, spiumii, minuto e senza fine, e il cielo a sprazzi irregolari e ritagli, forse c’era solo perché ci passasse mio fratello con suo leggero passo di codibugnolo, era un ricamo fatto di nulla che assomiglia a questo filo d’inchiostro, come l’ho lasciato correre per pagine e pagine, zeppo di cancellature, di rimandi, di sgorbi nervosi, di macchie, di lacune, che a momenti si sgrana in grossi acini chiari, a momenti si infittisce in segni minuscoli come semi puntiformi, ora si ritorce su se stesso, ora si biforca, ora collega grumi di frasi con contorni di foglie o di nuvole, e poi si intoppa, e poi ripiglia a attorcigliarsi, e corre e corre e si sdipana e avvolge un ultimo grappolo insensato di parole idee sogni ed è finito.

The art of seduction should be from within yourself, not from your outer appearance. If whoever you're doing this for doesn't realize that... then, honey, you're seducing the wrong person.

prisoner was attacked by 87 Rank A criminals at xx Hours. The conclusion of the fight saw 86 dead and 1 mentally scarred for life, now submitted to the mental institution ward of the prison. Prisoner John is perfectly fine. Footage shows he acted out of self-defence. He was confined to his cell while awaiting the results of the investigation. No trouble since. Recommended Action: Don’t piss him off.

Acknowledging that my biological imperative may not include the drive to procreate, that I just might be attracted to XX chromosomes instead of XY? That's so stupid-minor in comparison to the fact that I might actually be in love for the first time in my life. It's with a girl...so what? Lesbian, bisexual, whatever! Thus isn't about categorisation or chromosomes. This is about how I feel about another person.

They say that to escape reality is when you sleep, but when you sleep your sub conscious is in control of your dreams. For me to escape reality is when I read and write. When I read the world around me doesn't exist. The world in the story does and when I write I'm in control. Think of it as the author is the god of the world that they created. They set the characters fate.

Azok, akik arról beszéltek, miszerint a XX. században, a világhatalmak korában a kis nemzetek elvesztették létjogosultságukat, végzetesen hibáztak - mert a kis, de összetartó népek korát éljük. Másrészről mélyen kell beidegződnie a magyar tudatba annak, hogy hibáinkért és gyarlóságainkért most mi egyedül vagyunk és leszünk felelősek.

‎I was born in the US and l have lived in Mexico since 1946. I believe that all these states of being have influenced my work and made it what you see today. I am inspired by Black people and Mexican people, my two peoples. My art speaks for both my peoples

I have been pursuing my own train of thought for more than thirty years, undisturbed by all this, just because it is what I must do, and I could not do otherwise, out of an instinctive drive which is nonetheless supported by the confidence that what is thought truly and what throws light on obscurity will be grasped at some point by another thinking mind.XX

To Love Is Nothing To Be Loved Is Something To Love And Be Loved, Is Everything

But one does have to give words some credit. One has to at least pretend that they more or less resemble their meaning. Their shady meaning.

В XX веке любовь – это телефон, который не звонит

[...] it is stated that in the world all is illusion, there is no reality in the things; all is empty. (Asiatic Researches, vol. xx. p. 434)

stop procastinating xx

Ішлося вже до різдва. Рочисте свято клопотало кожну сім'ю своїми споконвічними клопотами. Частина третя. XX На волі

Гульня розв'язала язики, розбуркала зомлілі, пригнічені душі, розкорписала ті врази, що глибоко крилися в серці... Частина третя. XX На волі

Big Love and More Light! XxMwaaahhhhXx

...набожна жена беше тя, православна християнка, но как всички тези антихристски дивотии съжителствуваха с християнската й душа - това е загадка за целия наш народ, който си е останал езичник в червата и мозъка на костите, а само устата си е научил да вика: "Господи Исусе Христо!".

La realidad del mundo empezaba a ser más grotesca que las pantomimas de los payasos y los osos danzarines. Pronto, nadie nos necesitaría. El siglo XX se había convertido en el gran circo de la historia.

Al llarg dels segles XIX i XX hem passat, per dir-ho clar, de la guerra (o lluita) de classes al conflicte d'interessos, per bé que persisteix el conflicte entre rics i pobres, entre classes altes i baixes. Aquest salt qualitatiu es fa a remolc del creixement econòmic -que és un anivellador social i que afovoreix un estàndard de vida- i de l'extensió i la millora de l'ensenyament -que integra els individus en un projecte comú.

Spiritualize your warfare. Every day you face battles—that is the reality for all creatures in their struggle to survive. But the greatest battle of all is with yourself—your weaknesses, your emotions, your lack of resolution in seeing things through to the end. You must declare unceasing war on yourself. As a warrior in life, you welcome combat and conflict as ways to prove yourself, to better your skills, to gain courage, confidence, and experience. Instead of repressing your doubts and fears, you must face them down, do battle with them. You want more chal-xx lenges, and you invite more war. You are forging the warrior’s spirit, and only constant practice will lead you there.

The book which the reader has under his eye at this moment is, from one end to the other, as a whole and in detail, whatever may be its intermittences, exceptions and faults, the march from evil to good, from the unjust to the just, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from rottenness to life, from hell to heaven, from nothingness to God. Point of departure: matter; point of arrival: the soul. The hydra at the beginning, the angel at the end.” Volume V, Book I, Chapter XX This

BAD THINGS REALLY DID HAPPEN. (Mo asked me to remind you.) But you got through said bad things, and now you are stronger for it. (Gerty told me to pass on … though her version had more swearwords.) You’re lovely, and I will never hurt you how he hurt you. (That part was me.) Leon xx

No século XX ninguém se ama. Ninguém quer ninguém. Amar é out, é babaca, careta. Embora existam essas estranhas fronteiras entre paixão e loucura, entre paixão e suicídio. Não entendo como querer o outro possa tornar-se mais forte do que querer a si próprio [...] Mentira, compreendo sim. Mesmo consciente de que nasci sozinho do útero de minha mãe, berrando de pavor para o mundo insano, e que embarquei sozinho num caixão rumo a sei lá o quê, além do pó. O que ou quem eu cruzo entre esses dois portos gelados da solidão é mera viagem [...] e exigimos o eterno do perecível.

Воля для чоловіка вільного — чарівниче слово, а для невільника — мед — п'яне чоло. Воно, як дурманом, як хмелем, затуманить усі його думки, гадки, надії: усе для його вмерло, оглухло, одно воно зосталося, одно воно тільки й сяє й гріє по темному шляху його темного життя... Частина третя. XX На волі

A arte desempenha um papel decisivo na forma como as pessoas veem o mundo, e no século XX a ficção científica é provavelmente o género literário mais importante de todos, pois influencia o modo como a maioria das pessoas compreende coisas como a inteligência artificial, a bioengenharia e as alterações climáticas.

Throughout this book I will refer to both sex and gender. By 'sex', I mean the biological characteristics that determine whether an individual is male or female , XX and XY. By 'gender', I mean the social meanings we impose upon those biological facts. The way women are treated because they are perceived to be female. One is man-made, but both are real and both have significant consequences for women as they navigate this world constructed on male data. But although I talk about both sex and gender throughout, I use 'Gender Data Gap' as an overarching term. Because sex is not the reason women are excluded from data - gender is

Por más pobres que seáis, sobreabundáis en bienes naturales y espirituales. Que la luz de Cristo os conduzca a abrir los ojos sobre la inmensidad de la miseria humana para llevarle algún remedio, por la oración o por la acción. Dios, encontrado en toda la vida. Dios, comunicado siempre. Dios, actuando para la salvación del mundo entero[2].

But the writer of the book of John tells us a story very different to this; for he says, chap. xx, ver. 19, “Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week [that is, the same day that Christ is said to have risen] when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled, for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst of them.

Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward. For there you have been, and there you will always long to return

Un taxi me llevo desde Lieja por una interminable calle de barrio obrero, gris y negra, sin una hierba ni un árbol, una de esas calles que sólo la costumbre y la indiferencia nos hacen creer habitables (por otros que no seamos nosotros) y cuyo equivalente ya había visto yo en dos docenas de países, por ser el acostumbrado escenario del trabajo en el siglo XX

XII. If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk Above its mates, the head was chopped, the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? Tis a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents. XIII. As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood. One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare, Stood stupified, however he came there: Thrust out past service from the devil's stud! XIV. Alive? he might be dead for aught I knew, With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain. And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane; Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe; I never saw a brute I hated so; He must be wicked to deserve such pain. XV. I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart, As a man calls for wine before he fights, I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards, the soldier's art: One taste of the old time sets all to rights. XVI. Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face Beneath its garniture of curly gold, Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold An arm to mine to fix me to the place, The way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace! Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold. XVII. Giles then, the soul of honour - there he stands Frank as ten years ago when knighted first, What honest man should dare (he said) he durst. Good - but the scene shifts - faugh! what hangman hands Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst! XVIII. Better this present than a past like that: Back therefore to my darkening path again! No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain. Will the night send a howlet or a bat? I asked: when something on the dismal flat Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train. XIX. A sudden little river crossed my path As unexpected as a serpent comes. No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms; This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath For the fiend's glowing hoof - to see the wrath Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes. XX. So petty yet so spiteful! All along, Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it; Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit Of mute despair, a suicidal throng: The river which had done them all the wrong, Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit. XXI. Which, while I forded - good saints, how I feared To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek, Each step, of feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard! - It may have been a water-rat I speared, But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek. XXII. Glad was I when I reached the other bank. Now for a better country. Vain presage! Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage, Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage - XXIII. The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque, What penned them there, with all the plain to choose? No footprint leading to that horrid mews, None out of it. Mad brewage set to work Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.

Los amigos que se dan consejos a menudo se dicen: «Haz lo que te diga el corazón». Pero el corazón es un doble agente que por lo general toma sus instrucciones de los mitos dominantes del día, y la recomendación «Haz lo que te diga el corazón» fue implantada en nuestra mente por una combinación de mitos románticos del siglo XIX y de mitos consumistas del siglo XX.

Why do others see the need to change me my stringers,teachers even my own family they all seem to find something wrong with the only ones that seem to completely get me are my friends

მიახლოებითი შედარებითი ანალიზი გვიჩვენებს, რომ ქართველები არც ერთ ხალხზე არც უარესები და არც უკეთესები არა ვართ. ობიექტური კრიტერუმები ასეთ შედარებას არც შეიძლება ჰქონდეს. ყველა ხალხს ჰყოლია თითო-ოროლა გენიოსი მაინც. სულელები ყველგან მრავლადაა. ხოლო სხვა ქვეყნების მთავრობები, ხალხის არჩეულიც კი, ჩვენს მთავრობებზე არანაკლებ შეცდომებს უშვებდნენ, უშვებენ და დაუშვებენ.

Los amigos que se dan consejos a menudo se dicen: «Haz lo que te diga el corazón». Pero el corazón es un doble agente que por lo general toma sus instrucciones de los mitos dominantes del día, y la recomendación «Haz lo que te diga el corazón» fue implantada en nuestra mente por una combinación de mitos románticos del siglo XIX y de mitos consumistas del siglo XX. La

Forever” by Logan Keeley October 18, 20xx Lying beside me in the failure of flesh, You wait for the words that will let your mind rest, But I’ve already left you—I’m inside this song, I’m chasing the rhythms that split right from wrong, Forming chords on your shoulder, tracing notes on your hips, I can’t hear your thoughts as they fall from your lips, and Every day I give away A piece of me all torn and frayed— What I can’t keep, I sell for cheap, Til nothing’s left for you and me— Chorus: How can so much love feel like nothing at all? How can so much nothing leave me dying to crawl To the foot of your bed, I should be with you—instead, I walk away, stumbling, waiting, always waiting to fall. When you look in my eyes, can you see I’m not there, Just skin over bones and this flesh that I bear, And there’s no room for you, and you know I can never Get out of myself, get over myself, For even one moment, much less for forever. They all take their shares and they all think they see This stranger inside who pretends to be me. They’re a roomful of mirrors in this funhouse of fame, I shrink and I grow, I am wild, I am tame, But when I stand before you, I can pause, I can heal, Because you make me matter—you make me real. Every day they took away A piece of me all torn and frayed— What I couldn’t keep, I sold for cheap, So now what’s left for you and me? How can so much love feel like nothing at all? How can so much nothing leave me dying to crawl To the foot of your bed, I should be with you—instead, I walk away, stumbling, waiting, always waiting to fall. So I close my eyes, fill my hands with your hair, It’s your skin and your bones and your flesh that I bear, If I could be part of you, if we could come together I could find myself, I could lose myself, Just for one moment, or maybe forever. They always say that nothing lasts forever Well, can this nothing last forever Now? When you look in my eyes, and this time I’m there, More than skin over bones and this flesh that we bare, When I’m getting worse, when you make me better, We’ll find ourselves, we’ll lose ourselves, We’ll take this one moment…and make it forever.

Jakże to może być? Przecież Chrystus urodził się 24 grudnia, to nie może się rodzić drugi raz w styczniu! Nie może! Nasz polski Chrystus urodził się 24 grudnia! Jakże… Tego człowiek nie zrozumie, choćby jeszcze żył sto lat!

Los mismos tres problemas acuciaron a los pobladores de la China del siglo XX, a los de la India medieval y a los del antiguo Egipto. La hambruna, la peste y la guerra coparon siempre los primeros puestos de la lista. Generación tras generación, los seres humanos rezaron a todos los dioses, ángeles y santos, e inventaron innumerables utensilios, instituciones y sistemas sociales…, pero siguieron muriendo por millones a causa del hambre, las epidemias y la violencia.

Knight: Broke my middle finger. Switching to running plays. Killing my pass percentage. I’m getting hit more. Texting less. Stay safe. x Knight: Sorry couldn’t answer. Need to rest. How’s school? Knight: Missed your call again. Sorry. x Luna: How’d you break your middle finger? Knight: Fingering the wrong asshole. Knight: JK. Practice. Luna: I miss you. Knight: xx. Luna: How is Rosie? Knight: Fine. Luna: You know how I feel about that word… Knight: Sorry. Good. Mom’s good. x

Just your love. Just your shadow. Just your voice. And my soul. Just your lips. My name on your lips. Your air in my lungs. Drowned in oxygen. Now you've set the scene. High on intimacy. Drawing me above. Ooh, ooh I don’t wanna know the way down.

Just as maniacs, who never enjoy tranquility, so also he who is resentful and retains an enemy will never have the enjoyment of any peace; incessantly raging and daily increasing the tempest of his thoughts calling to mind his words and acts, and detesting the very name of him who has aggrieved him. Do you but mention his enemy, he becomes furious at once, and sustains much inward anguish; and should he chance to get only a bare sight of him, he fears and trembles, as if encountering the worst evils, Indeed, if he perceives any of his relations, if but his garment, or his dwelling, or street, he is tormented by the sight of them. For as in the case of those who are beloved, their faces, their garments, their sandals, their houses, or streets, excite us, the instant we behold them; so also should we observe a servant, or friend, or house, or street, or any thing else belonging to those We hate and hold our enemies, we are stung by all these things; and the strokes we endure from the sight of each one of them are frequent and continual. What is the need then of sustaining such a siege, such torment and such punishment? For if hell did not threaten the resentful, yet for the very torment resulting from the thing itself we ought to forgive the offences of those who have aggrieved us. But when deathless punishments remain behind, what can be more senseless than the man, who both here and there brings punishment upon himself, while he thinks to be revenged upon his enemy! Homilies on the Statues, Homily XX

En sus orígenes, la industria de las películas se limitaba a contar historias tan simples que rozaban la idiocia: jardineros que se mojaban con sus propias mangueras, obreros que se caían de los andamios… Pero entonces llegó el sonido. De la noche a la mañana los personajes tenían que hablar, y aquello fue un verdadero contratiempo porque nadie tenía la menor idea de qué podían decirse. —Buenas tardes, cariño, ¿qué tal en el trabajo? —Normal, ¿y tú? —Normal, ya sabes. —Genial. —Sí… ¿Quién demonios pagaría por algo así? La realidad no le interesa a nadie, todo el mundo tiene demasiado de eso, es lo único que a todos nos sobra. No, los personajes de las películas tenían que decirse cosas que la gente no escuchase a diario, algo original, diferente, raro pero no excéntrico, llamativo pero creíble. Algo hermoso. Así fue como nació la combinación de palabras que más beneficios generaría a la industria del entretenimiento durante el siglo XX y XXI. Una frase que acabaría convirtiéndose en la más repetida de la historia del cine y quién sabe si también de la historia de la humanidad: I love you.

The Absolute is Consciousness. It is always Self-conscious, meaning it is always aware of itself and its divine nature. The Self-awareness of the Absolute is a subtle form of activity which has two essential qualities. First, Consciousness is Self-luminous; the light of Consciousness (prakasa) requires no other source of illumination. This is Its aspect of jnana or knowing. Second, the process of becoming aware of Itself (vimarsa) is the Absolute’s aspect of action (kriya). The action is a kind of subtle stir that gives rise to joy and the creative impulse. This subtle movement is not a physical motion or any form of mental restlessness. Rather, it can be described as a spiritual stirring that corresponds to the sensation everyone has at moments of direct self-awareness during peak experiences. This stirring of Self-awareness is spanda. It makes Absolute Consciousness vibrant and expansive, and it is this activity that is the basic source of all creative manifestation. Everything that exists, sentient and insentient, is a result of this stirring of spanda. — B. N. Pandit, Specific Principles of Kashmir Shaivism (3rd ed., 2008), p. xx-xxi

In Pakistan both branches [of the Ahmadis] fell to persecutions, sanction by the state in 1984 with General Zia Ul-Haq's Ordinance XX, which forbade Ahmadis of either branch from calling themselves Muslims, their religion Islam, or their temples mosques. Under penalty of law, they could not perform the call to pryaer, pray in the manner of Muslims, quote the Qur'an or hadith, greet each other with "as-salamu alaikum," or receite the shahadah... In the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, it was illegal for some people to say, "There is no god but Allah and Muhammad is his Messenger.

Given everything we’ve discovered about the relationship between hormones, menopause, and brain health, a larger question remains: Can the use of birth control affect the health of the brain? Oddly enough, even though more than 100 million women take the pill worldwide, there have been only a handful of studies dedicated to its effects on the brain.

P.D. MAYORITARIA QUE SE DISFRAZA DE MINORÍA INTOLERADA. A todo esto de que si Marcos es homosexual: Marcos es gay en San Francisco, negro en Sudáfrica, asiático en Europa, chicano en San Isidro, anarquista en España, palestino en Israel, indígena en las calles de San Cristóbal, chavo banda en Neza, rockero en cu, judío en Alemania, ombusdman en la Sedena, feminista en los partidos políticos, comunista en la post guerra fría, preso en Cintalapa, pacifista en Bosnia, mapuche en los Andes, maestro en la CNTE, artista sin galería ni portafolios, ama de casa un sábado por la noche en cualquier colonia de cualquier ciudad de cualquier México, guerrillero en el México de fin del siglo XX, huelguista en la CTM, reportero de nota de relleno en interiores, machista en el movimiento feminista, mujer sola en el metro a las 10 p.m., jubilado en plantón en el Zócalo, campesino sin tierra, editor marginal, obrero desempleado, médico sin plaza, estudiante inconforme, disidente en el neoliberalismo, escritor sin libros ni lectores, y, es seguro, zapatista en el sureste mexicano. En fin, Marcos es un ser humano, cualquiera, en este mundo. Marcos es todas las minorías intoleradas, oprimidas, resistiendo, explotando, diciendo "¡Ya basta!". Todas las minorías a la hora de hablar y mayorías a la hora de callar y aguantar. Todos los intolerados buscando una palabra, su palabra, lo que devuelva la mayoría a los eternos fragmentados, nosotros. Todo lo que incomoda al poder y a las buenas conciencias, eso es Marcos.

Draco!” — “What?” The blonde asked, irritation clear in his voice, even if he didn't turn around to face Harry. — “Tomorrow before lunch, Nev and I will be at the library; we’ll be researching on how to beat a dragon into a pulp,“ he explained, admittedly exaggerating a little, “so we shouldn't bore you completely.“ — “What are you even saying, Potter?“ Draco asked, while Neville looked at him as if the blonde Slytherin had beaten him to the punch on asking the same question. — “You could come over and not like us there, if you want.“ Draco seemingly stopped breathing for a moment. — “Why the hell not?“ He asked nobody in specific, before storming out of the clearing and back towards Hogsmeade. — “You know what, I'm not even going to ask what happened." Neville commented, five minutes later when he had managed to find his voice. "This is beyond the realm of possible things.

Pongámonos de acuerdo en qué es la igualdad, pues si la libertad es la cima, la igualdad es la base. La igualdad, ciudadanos, no es que toda la vegetación esté enrasada, una sociedad de hierbas largas y de robles bajos; un vecindario de envidias que se castren entre sí; es, en el ámbito civil, que todas las aptitudes tengan las mismas oportunidades; en el ámbito político, es que todos los votos valgan lo mismo; en el ámbito religioso, es que todas las conciencias tengan los mismos derechos. La Igualdad tiene un órgano: la instrucción gratuita y obligatoria. El derecho al alfabeto, por ahí es por donde hay que empezar. La escuela primaria obligatoria para todos; la escuela secundaria brindada a todos, ésa es la ley. De la escuela idéntica sale la sociedad igual. ¡La enseñanza, sí! ¡Luz! ¡Luz! Todo viene de la luz y todo va a la luz. Ciudadanos, el siglo XIX es grande, pero el siglo XX será feliz. Y ya no pasará nada que tenga que ver con la historia vieja; no tendremos ya que temer, como ahora, una conquista, una invasión, una usurpación, una rivalidad a mano armada de naciones, una interrupción de la civilización que dependa de un matrimonio de reyes, de un nacimiento en el seno de las tiranías hereditarias, de un reparto de pueblos obra de un congreso, de un desmembramiento porque se hunda una dinastía, de un combate entre dos religiones que choquen de frente como dos carneros del reino de la oscuridad, en el puente de lo infinito; no tendremos ya que temer la hambruna, ni la explotación, ni la prostitución fruto de la desesperación ni el desvalimiento, ni la miseria fruto del paro, ni el patíbulo, ni la espada, ni las batallas, ni todos los robos de salteador del azar en el bosque de los acontecimientos. Casi podríamos decir que ya no habrá acontecimientos. Los hombres serán felices. El género humano cumplirá su ley como cumple la suya el globo terrestre; se restablecerá la armonía entre el alma y el astro; el alma gravitará en torno a la verdad igual que el astro en torno a la luz.

Y ya aparece la palabra clave: liberación: «En toda nuestra acción, nuestra meta debe ser la liberación del hombre de cualquier forma de servidumbre que lo oprima. Deseamos que todos nuestros esfuerzos confluyan hacia la construcción de una sociedad en la que el pueblo sea integrado con todos sus derechos de igualdad y libertad no solamente políticos, sino también culturales y religiosos». La carta añadía una renuncia a toda posible actitud burguesa y a relaciones de los jesuitas «con las clases privilegiadas». Los provinciales eran conscientes de que este estilo despertaría reacciones inevitables: «No las provocaremos nosotros con actitudes partidistas, pero continuaremos en la predicación del evangelio de los pobres, cualesquiera que fueran estas reacciones». Y se comprometían a «transformaciones audaces, que renueven radicalmente las estructuras». La carta rechazaba al mismo tiempo las actitudes violentas que «si se inspiran en la frustración y el odio, y no en la reflexión de la conciencia y el amor cristiano

E Salomon Morel? No fim de contas, foi uma figura deste período apenas num sentido: como muita gente que atravessou os horrores da guerra e a confusão dos anos do pós-guerra, desempenhou diferentes papéis em diferentes narrativas nacionais em diferentes momentos. Foi uma vítima do holocausto, um criminoso comunista, um homem que perdeu toda a sua família às mãos dos nazis e um homem consumido por uma raiva sádica a alemães e polacos - uma raiva que pode ou não ter sido originada pela sua vitimização e pode ou não ter estado ligada ao seu comunismo. Foi profundamente vingativo e profundamente violento. Foram-lhe atribuídas medalhas pelo Estado comunista polaco, foi processado pelo Estado polaco pós-comunista e toi detendido pelo Estado de Israel, embora não tivesse manifestado interesse em mudar-se para Israel senão meio século depois da guerra e mesmo isso só depois de ter começado a temer que o julgassem. A sua história, ao fim e ao cabo, nada prova sobre judeus ou polacos. Só prova como é difícil emitir juízos sobre as pessoas que viveram na parte mais estilhaçada da Europa durante as piores décadas do século XX.

Looking into the mirror I ask myself: "You live in a house equipped with air conditioning. You eat tasty food. You utilize convenient transportation to travel. You utilize convenient information technology to live. Could you not say that you, who do all this, are not a dictator? Isn't it right that you life is supported by somebody else's death? Doesn't your life that exists at the expense of somebody else's sacrifice infinitely resemble the life of a dictator who only cares about his own life?" -Yasumasa Morimura (excerpt from "Mr. Morimura's Dictator Speech").

I answer that, As is clear from what has been said above (Q[110], A[4]), if we take a miracle in the strict sense, the demons cannot work miracles, nor can any creature, but God alone: since in the strict sense a miracle is something done outside the order of the entire created nature, under which order every power of a creature is contained. But sometimes miracle may be taken in a wide sense, for whatever exceeds the human power and experience. And thus demons can work miracles, that is, things which rouse man's astonishment, by reason of their being beyond his power and outside his sphere of knowledge. For even a man by doing what is beyond the power and knowledge of another, leads him to marvel at what he has done, so that in a way he seems to that man to have worked a miracle. It is to be noted, however, that although these works of demons which appear marvelous to us are not real miracles, they are sometimes nevertheless something real. Thus the magicians of Pharaoh by the demons' power produced real serpents and frogs. And "when fire came down from heaven and at one blow consumed Job's servants and sheep; when the storm struck down his house and with it his children---these were the work of Satan, not phantoms"; as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xx, 19).

Ce se întîmplă cu tine, băiete? mă întrebă. Vorbea destul de aspru pentru felul lui de a fi. Cîte materii ai urmat în trimestrul ăsta? ― Cinci, domnule profesor. ― Cinci? Şi la cîte ai căzut? ― La patru. Îmi amorţise fundul stînd pe pat. În viaţa mea nu stătusem pe un pat atît de tare. ― La engleză am trecut, i-am spus, fiindcă poveştile cu Beowulf şi cu Lord Randal, fiul meu le-am învăţat încă de pe vremea cînd eram la Whooton. Şi, de fapt, la engleză nu trebuia să fac mai nimic, decît să scriu din cînd în cînd cîte o compunere. Bătrînul nici nu mă asculta. N-asculta niciodată cînd îi vorbeai. ― Eu unul te-am trîntit la istorie fiindcă n-ai ştiut absolut nimic. ― Ştiu, domnule profesor, vă înţeleg. Ce era să faceţi? ― Absolut nimic, repetă el. Tare mă înfurie cînd oamenii repetă de două ori un lucru pe care tu l-ai recunoscut de prima dată. Şi pe urmă a mai spus-o şi a treia oară. ― Dar absolut nimic. Ai deschis cartea măcar o dată, în trimestrul ăsta? Eu mă îndoiesc. Spune drept! ― Păi, ştiţi, am răsfoit-o... de vreo două ori, am spus. Nu voiam să-l jignesc. Îi plăcea istoria la nebunie! ― A, ai răsfoit-o! spuse el foarte ironic. Uite, hm, teza ta e acolo sus pe raft, deasupra teancului de caiete. Ad-o, te rog, încoace. Era o figură urîtă din partea lui. Dar n-am avut încotro, m-am dus şi i-am adus-o. Pe urmă, m-am aşezat din nou pe patul lui de ciment. Mamă, nici nu ştiţi ce rău începuse să-mi pară că venisem să-mi iau rămas bun. Ţinea lucrarea mea de parc-ar fi fost o bucată de rahat sau mai ştiu eu ce. ― Am studiat cu voi egiptenii de la 4 noiembrie la 2 de¬cembrie, îmi zise. Singur ai ales să scrii despre ei la lucrarea facultativă de control. Vrei să auzi ce-ai scris? ― Nu, domnule profesor, nu face, i-am răspuns. Cu toate astea, începu să citească. Nu poţi opri niciodată un profesor să facă un anumit lucru, dacă s-a hotărît să-l facă. Oricum, face tot ce vrea el! Egiptenii sînt o rasă veche de caucazieni care locuiesc într-una din regiunile din nordul Africii. Africa, după cum ştim cu toţii, e cel mai mare continent în emisfera răsăriteană. Şi eu eram obligat să stau şi s-ascult toate tîmpeniile astea! Zău că era urît din partea lui. Pe noi, astăzi, egiptenii ne interesează din mai multe motive. Ştiinţa modernă n-a descoperit nici pînă azi ce substanţe misterioase întrebuinţau cînd îmbălsămau morţii, pentru ca feţele lor să nu putrezească secole la rînd. Această enigmă interesantă continuă să constituie o sfidare pentru ştiinţa modernă a secolului XX. Se opri şi puse jos lucrarea. Începusem să-l urăsc! ― Eseul tău, ca să-i zicem aşa, se opreşte aici, spuse cît se poate de ironic. N-ai crede că un tip atît de bătrîn poate fi atît de ironic şi aşa mai departe. Apoi adăugă: Şi în josul paginii mi-ai scris şi mie cîteva cuvinte. ― Ştiu, ştiu, i-am răspuns precipitat, ca să-l opresc înainte de a-ncepe să citească. Dar parcă mai putea cineva să-l oprească?! Ardea ca un fitil de dinamită. Dragă domnule Spencer (citi el cu glas tare), asta e tot ce ştiu eu despre egipteni. Nu reuşesc să mă intereseze, cu toate că dumneavoastră predaţi foarte frumos. Să ştiţi totuşi că nu mă supăr dacă mă trîntiţi ― că în afară de engleză tot am picat la toate materiile. Cu stimă, al dumnea¬voastră, Holden Caulfield. În sfîrşit, a pus jos lucrarea mea nenorocită şi mi-a arun¬cat o privire de parcă m-ar fi bătut măr la ping-pong sau mai ştiu eu ce. Cît oi trăi nu cred c-am să-l iert c-a citit cu glas tare toate rahaturile alea. Dacă le-ar fi scris el, eu unul nu i le-aş fi citit niciodată. Zău că nu. Şi, de fapt, nu-i scrisesem notiţa aia nenorocită decît ca să nu-i pară prea rău că mă trînteşte. ― Mă condamni că te-am trîntit, băiete? m-a întrebat el. ― Nu, domnule profesor, zău că nu! i-am răspuns eu. Numai de-ar fi încetat naibii să-mi mai zică "băiete"!

In this way we give our lack, we give what we do not have, Aristophanes’ claim that such a thing is impossible notwithstanding. Men in Western culture generally seem to have a harder time than women do admitting to lack, a harder time verbally admitting that they are missing something, incomplete in some respect, limited in some way – in a word, castrated. (The reader will, I hope, allow me to momentarily associate men with obsession here, and women with hysteria, in a way that vastly overgeneralizes things, in order to highlight something schematically at first.) I do not mean simply admitting that they do not actually know how to drive somewhere in particular or that they do not know some specific fact about something that has come up in a conversation – I mean a lack that is more far-reaching than that! To love is to admit to lack (Soler, 2003, p. 243), and Lacan even goes so far at one point – and here I am jumping ahead some 15 years in his work – to suggest that when a man loves, it is insofar as he is a woman (Lacan, 1973–4, class given on February 12, 1974). Insofar as he is a man, he can admit to desiring the so-called partial objects he sees in his partner, but he generally feels that perfectly good partial objects of much the same kind can be found in many different partners. Insofar as he is a man, he contents himself with the enjoyment he derives from the partial objects he finds in a whole series of interchangeable partners, and avoids like the plague showing that he lacks.But unlike desire, “Love demands love,” as Lacan (1998a, p. 4) puts it in Seminar XX; love insistently requests love in return. When one is fascinated by or lusts after a sexual partner, one’s desire does not necessarily wither or disappear if one does not feel desired in return. Even if “desire is the Other’s desire” (a claim often repeated by Lacan; see, for example, Lacan, 2015, p. 178), in the sense that we wish to be desired in return by the object of our desire, desire can do just fine without being requited. But “to love is to want to be loved” (Lacan, 2006a, p. 853): to love – at least in our times – is to implicitly ask the beloved for love that can make good or somehow compensate one for one’s own lack, the hollow or emptiness one feels inside. In this sense, all love seems to constitute a request for love in return. (In Alcibiades’ case, this takes the form of a pressing demand for Socrates to prove that he returns Alcibiades’ passion for Socrates.) Since to love is to show and declare one’s lack, love is feminine, as Colette Soler (2003, p. 97) says, following Lacan’s statements to their logical conclusion.

Monday, September 17, 1945 We all drove to the airfield in the morning to see Gay and Murnane off in the C-47 /belonging to the Army. Then General Eisenhower and I drove to Munich where we inspected in conjunction with Colonel Dalferes a Baltic displaced persons camp. The Baltic people are the best of the displaced persons and the camp was extremely clean in all respects. Many of the people were in costume and did some folk dances and athletic contest for our benefit. We were both, I think, very much pleased with conditions here. The camp was situated in an old German regular army barracks and they were using German field kitchens for cooking. From the Baltic camp, we drove for about 45 minutes to a Jewish camp in the area of the XX Corps. This camp was established in what had been a German hospital. The buildings were therefore in a good state of repair when the Jews arrived but were in a bad state of repair when we arrived, because these Jewish DP's, or at least a majority of them, have no sense of human relationships. They decline, when practicable, to use latrines, preferring to relive themselves on the floor. The hospital which we investigated was fairly good. They also had a number of sewing machines and cobbler instruments which they had collected, but since they had not collected the necessary parts, they had least fifty sewing machines they could not use, and which could not be used by anyone else because they were holding them. This happened to be the feast of Yom Kippur, so they were all collected in a large wooden building which they called a synagogue. It behooved General Eisenhower to make a speech to them. We entered the synagogue, which was packed with the greatest stinking bunch of humanity I have ever seen. When we got about half way up, the head rabbi, who was dressed in a fur hat similar to that worn by Henry VIII of England, and in a surplice heavily embroidered and very filthy, came down and met the General. A copy of Talmud, I think it is called, written on a sheet and rolled around a stick, was carried by one of the attending physicians. First, a Jewish civilian made a very long speech which nobody seemed inclined to translate. Then General Eisenhower mounted the platform and I went up behind him and he made a short and excellent speech, which was translated paragraph by paragraph. The smell was so terrible that I almost fainted, and actually about three hours later, lost my lunch as the result of remembering it. From here we went to the Headquarters of the XX Corps, where General Craig gave us an excellent lunch which I, however, was unable to partake of, owing to my nausea.