Let go of who's right and focus on what's right
You're supposed to eat the cows. They're great big lumbering stupid things - they'd be everywhere if we didn't eat them.
People will kill you over time, and how they'll kill you is with tiny, harmless phrases, like 'be realistic. '
You're talking to a modern, nice, affable German person and they're saying to you something like 'You know, vell, it's a critical time now for Germany within Europe, also globally, economically ve are pretty good, ve have been better. But ve are very vibrant in the theater and arts. . . ' and all the time you'll be listening to this, you're thinking Mmm, yeah, mmm. . . Hitler, Hitler, Hitler, Hitler, Hitler.
You've a very important, early decision to make in your life: are you going to be alone, or are you going to be with somebody else? Are you going to be sane, or not lonely? A couple is a strange thing; it's an organism that's half as intelligent as the most intelligent member. And you both know who it is.
Everybody does that now. We all take pics. . . you do the same with holiday photos. You record something to look back on it, even though you’re not really there when you’re taking the picture ‘cause you’re too busy recording it - so you retrospectively go to look back on where you weren’t and tell yourself you had a good time.
You’re not really an adult at all. You’re just a tall child holding a beer, having a conversation you don’t understand.
Messi is the best in the world. Cristiano is a goalscorer. Messi is more taltented, more complete, tactically and footballwise. Cristiano isn't doing those runs anymore like at United. Messi takes more part in the game, I'd always prefer him in my team.
I'm not here to be on display. And my body is not for public consumption. I will not be reduced to an object, or a pair of legs to sell shoes. I'm a soul, a mind, a servant of God. My worth is defined by the beauty of my soul, my heart, my moral character. So I won't worship your beauty standards, and I don't submit to your fashion sense. My submission is to something higher.
To value the tradition of, and the discipline required for, the craft of fiction seems today pointless. The real Arcadia is a lonely, mountainous plateau, overbouldered and strewn with the skulls of sheep slain for vellum and old bitten pinions that tried to be quills. It's forty rough miles by mule from Athens, a city where there's a fair, a movie house, cotton candy.
I shall the effect of this good lesson keeps as watchman to my heart.