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“Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet or –""Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet.""Great idea though, thanks, Mum.”
J.K. Rowling“I want the cultures of all lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown of my feet by any”
Mahatma Gandhi“I want the cultures of all lands to be blown about my house as freely as possible. But I refuse to be blown of my feet by any.”
Mahatma Gandhi“The promises of God hold up long after the promises of the world have blown up.”
Craig D. Lounsbrough“I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind.”
Lauren Oliver, Delirium“Sometimes we pray earnestly, other times we only make a slight mention of a thing and with great expectation, we await the answers to our request. Yet, we are blown away at the fulfillment of the very thing for which we pulled on heaven. You know why? In those moments we see the magnanimity of GOD's unfailing mercy to undeserving men like us.”
TemitOpe Ibrahim“...the hope that the day will not be far distant when it will be popularly considered that to lose life by accident in productive and distributive industry is just as noble and heroic as to lose it by accident on board a man of war. That to lose life by being drowned like a rat in as mine is just as worthy as being drowned like a rat in the hold of an ironclad. That to lose a limb by an exploding shell is no more worthy of national consideration than to lose one in a rolling mill. That to be blown up by a torpedo creates no more sorrow in the unfortunate's family than to be blown up by a boiler. That one should not be the hero of an apotheosis while the other goes to Eternity unhonored and unsung.”
D. Douglas Wilson“In a nice little house in Atro City there lived a man called Doktor Gleichstein. He was a kind of scientist, and he was very good at his job, which is why he always worked from home. He looked a little funny because he kept losing his eyebrows. Quantum Physics, is sort of like ordinary Physics, only you tend to spend a lot more time looking for the cat. He worked in the sitting room because he’d blown the garage up once already. Apparently a lot of things happened by accident in Quantum Physics.”
Christina Engela, Innocent Minds“What I Have Lived ForThree passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a great ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair. I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy - ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness--that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what--at last--I have found.With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved. Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate this evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer. This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.”
Bertrand Russell“...the presence of others has become even more intolerable to me, their conversation most of all. Oh, how it all annoys and exasperates me: their attitudes, their manners, their whole way of being! The people of my world, all my unhappy peers, have come to irritate, oppress and sadden me with their noisy and empty chatter, their monstrous and boundless vanity, their even more monstrous egotism, their club gossip... the endless repetition of opinions already formed and judgments already made; the automatic vomiting forth of articles read in those morning papers which are the recognised outlet of the hopeless wilderness of their ideas; the eternal daily meal of overfamiliar cliches concerning racing stables and the stalls of fillies of the human variety... the hutches of the 'petites femmes' - another worn out phrase in the dirty usury of shapeless expression!Oh my contemporaries, my dear contemporaries...Their idiotic self-satisfaction; their fat and full-blown self-sufficiency: the stupid display of their good fortune; the clink of fifty- and a hundred-franc coins forever sounding out their financial prowess, according their own reckoning; their hen-like clucking and their pig-like grunting, as they pronounce the names of certain women; the obesity of their minds, the obscenity of their eyes, and the toneless-ness of their laughter! They are, in truth, handsome puppets of amour, with all the exhausted despondency of their gestures and the slackness of their chic...Chic! A hideous word, which fits their manner like a new glove: as dejected as undertakers' mutes, as full-blown as Falstaff...Oh my contemporaries: the ceusses of my circle, to put it in their own ignoble argot. They have all welcomed the moneylenders into their homes, and have been recruited as their clients, and they have likewise played host to the fat journalists who milk their conversations for the society columns. How I hate them; how I execrate them; how I would love to devour them liver and lights - and how well I understand the Anarchists and their bombs!”
Jean Lorrain, Monsieur De Phocas