Αν δεν υπηρετούσες αυτόν τον κακότροπο τύπο, οι Ρωμαίοι σου καίγανε το σπίτι. Αν τον υπηρετούσες, ονομαζόσουν Χριστιανός και έπρεπε να καις τα σπίτια των αλλονών.
Wasn’t crying. I’ve had a bad day. Another one. One in a series of bad days. I’m not complaining. Bad days are my bag. They’re time-consuming, however, and I’m a busy girl.
The sixties constituted a breakthrough, a fleeting moment of glory, a time when a significant little chunk of humanity briefly realized its moral potential and flirted with its neurological destiny, a...
The notion of life implies a certain absoluteness of self-enjoyment
Since religion bore false witness to the Divine, religion was blasphemy. And once it entered into its unholy alliance with politics, it became the most dangerous and repressive force that the world ha...
Logic limits love, which may be why Descartes never married.
It’s hardly headline news that the corporate state and its media are using the latest gadget-com and gimmick-tech to dumb us down as steadily as if they were standing on a stool and pounding our brain...
And while meanness is a function of the insensitive, grumpiness is merely a function of the dissatisfied.
Your petal from the salty rose
You're better equipped for this world than I am, she said. I'm always trying to change the world. You know how to live in it.
Would you complain because a beautiful sunset doesn't have a future or a shooting star a payoff? And why should romance 'lead anywhere'? Passion isn't a path through the woods. Passion the woods.
When we accept small wonders, we qualify ourselves to imagine great wonders.
What is it, Maestra had asked quite rhetorically, that separates human beings from the so-called lower animals? Well, as I see it, it’s exactly one half-dozen significant things: Humor, Imagination, E...
We, each of us, have a ticket to ride, and if the trip be interesting (if it's dull, we have only ourselves to blame), then we relish the landscape (how quickly it whizzes by!), interact with our fell...
We entertain the immortals in order that they might be persuaded to help us recover the strength and unity stolen from us by death.
We are our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves.
Unless it was about to cause you bodily harm, rot your rhubarb on the stalk, or carry off your children, weather ought either to be celebrated or ignored.
To pragmatists, the letter Z is nothing more than a phonetically symbolic glyph, a minor sign easily learned, readily assimilated, and occasionally deployed in the course of a literate life. To cynics...
To physically overcome death – is that not the goal? – we must think the unthinkable thoughts and ask unanswerable questions. Yet we must not lose ourselves in abstract vapors of philosophy. Death ahs...
To live fully, one must be free, but to be free one must give up security. Therefore, to live one must be ready to die. How's that for a paradox?