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Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.
Winston S. ChurchillStichwörter: success
The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth.
Kate ChopinI would die for you. But I won't live for you.
Stephen ChboskyStichwörter: love
I learned to observe the world around me, and to note what I saw
Margaret MeadWe are described into corners, and then we must describe ourselves out of corners.
Salman Rushdiestick at it like a benni addict
Jack KerouacNow winter downs the dying of the year,
And night is all a settlement of snow;
From the soft street the rooms of houses show
A gathered light, a shapen atmosphere,
Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin
And still allows some stirring down within.
Uno empieza con las pajas y llega a las orgías. Uno fuma un poco de hierba y acaba metiéndose caballo. Es esta cultura nuestra de lo más grande, lo más fuerte, lo más rápido y lo mejor. La palabra clave es progresar.
En América, si tu adicción no se renueva y mejora constantemente, eres un perdedor.
Stichwörter: asfixia chuck-palahniuk adicción cultura
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird’s throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands, and the fields beyond, where the child, leaving his bed, wander’d
alone, bare-headed, barefoot,
Down from the shower’d halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows, twining and twisting as if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories, sad brother—from the fitful risings and fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon, late-risen, and swollen as if with tears,
From those beginning notes of sickness and love, there in the transparent mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart, never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous’d words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such, as now they start, the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither—ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man—yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them—but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.
Women can fake an orgasm, but men can fake an entire relationship.
Sharon StoneStichwörter: inspirational
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