Quotes About Lets All Just Get Along
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I'm not somebody that just wants to hold up a white flag and say, 'Let's all just get along.' I think people that do horrible things should be held accountable. ~ Angelina Jolie
I can't tell you what to do. No one can. But as the mother of two children, I can tell you what most moms will: that mothering is absurdly hard and profoundly sweet. Like the best thing you ever did. Like if you think you want to have a baby, you probably should.
I say this in spite of the fact that children are giant endless suck machines. They don't give a whit if you need to sleep or eat or pee or get your work done or go out to a party naked and oiled up in a homemade Alice B. Toklas mask. They take everything. They will bring you the furthest edge of your personality and abso-fucking-lutely to your knees.
They will also give you everything back. Not just all they take, but many of the things you lost before they came along as well. ~ Cheryl Strayed
You know on those nature shows when the cute little meerkat is strolling along on its four cute little meerkat legs to get back to her burrow where all her little meerkat politics, drama and family await her, and this big-ass eagle comes swooping overhead…? The smart little meerkat runs for cover and waits that big-ass eagle out. Some time passes, and the meerkat finally decides the eagle got bored and went off to scare the crap out of some other cute little meerkat. So, the meerkat crawls out from her hidey-hole to carry merrily on her way. And just when that little meerkat thought she was home free, that big-ass eagle swoops down and catches her in his big-ass claws. Well… I know exactly how that little meerkat felt… ~ Samantha Young
Before being born, his mother explained, babies go to school. Not a school like Boris's, but a different kind of school, where all the teachers are angels. The angels teach each baby the entire Torah, along with all of the secrets of the universe. Then, just before each baby is born, an angel puts its finger right below the baby's nose - here she paused to put her finger across his lips (could he see the blood under her skin, or did he only imagine it?) - and whispers to the child: Shh - don't tell. And then the baby forgets. "Why does he have to forget?" Boris had asked, moving his lips beneath her finger. He didn't want to know, not really. But his mother's back had stiffened, and he could feel that she might get up at any moment, put out the light, walk away, disappear. She pulled her hand away from his face, resting it on her own stomach. "So that for the rest of his life," she said, "he will always have to pay attention to the world, and to everything that happens in it, to try to remember all the things he's forgotten. ~ Dara Horn
Perhaps I was also afraid the little voice in the back of my head telling me I had no idea what I was doing was right. I didn't have any idea what I was doing; if I had, things would be different now. Although, thoughts like this led the other little voice inside my head to point out if I wasn't here, or if I didn't know what I was doing, Martin would be a chalk outline of some goo on the pavement. I sighed audibly and put my head on my desk. If only all the voices in my head could just get along. I laughed at the absurdity. I must be clinically insane. ~ G.K. Parks
Valuing differences is what really drives synergy. Do you truly value the mental, emotional, and psychological differences among people? Or do you wish everyone would just agree with you so you could all get along? Many people mistake uniformity for unity; sameness for oneness. One word
boring! Differences should be seen as strengths, not weaknesses. They add zest to life. ~ Stephen Covey
What d'you reckon happened to the Cattermoles?"
"With any luck, they'll have got away," said Hermione, clutching her hot mug for comfort. "As long as Mr. Cattermole had his wits about him, he'll have transported Mrs. Cattermole by Side-Along-Apparition and they'll be fleeing the country right now with their children. That's what Harry told her to do."
"Blimey, I hope they escaped," said Ron, leaning back on his pillows. The tea seemed to be doing him good; a little of his color had returned. "I didn't get the feeling Reg Cattermole was all that quick-witted, though, the way everyone was talking to me when I was him. God, I hope they made it…If they both end up in Azkaban because of us…"
Harry looked over at Hermione and the question he had been about to ask--about whether Mrs. Cattermole's lack of a wand would prevent her Apparating alongside her husband--died in his throat. Hermione was watching Ron fret over the fate of the Cattermoles, and there was such tenderness in her expression that Harry felt almost as if he had surprised her in the act of kissing him.
"So, have you got it?" Harry asked her, partly to remind her that he was there.
"Got--got what?" she said with a little start.
"What did we just go through all that for? The locket! Where's the locket?"
"You got it?" shouted Ron, raising himself a little higher on his pillows. "No one tells me anything! Blimey, you could have mentioned it!"
"Well, we were running for our lives f ~ J.K. Rowling
Beauty is what attracts men naturally, but really I think we dress for other women, not necessarily for men. We torture ourselves every single day, and I wish that we wouldn't because we should all just get along, really. ~ Odette Annable
This is it for a winner, Dance to this and you're gonna get thinner, Move slide your rump, Just for a minute let's all do the bump, Bump, bump, bump yeah. ~ MC Hammer
I don't feel great, but I also don't feel terrible, either, and I guess that's how normal people feel most of the time. They live in the space between black and white, and their ups and downs are various shades of gray, not the extreme highs and lows I've always thought of as normal. I think that's one of the major differences between us and them, between addicts and Normies. Somewhere along the line we got stuck on this roller coaster that only knows how to go to the highest up and the lowest low. We get high so we can feel invincible and perfect, but the feeling never lasts. Gravity always wins, and we fall fast, to a place lower and darker than many people will probably ever know. And the crazy thing is that this is just normal for us. We cycle through these extremes all the time, and it's become as natural as breathing. Exhausting, but natural. ~ Amy Reed
Anyone who has lived here for long enough has seen it all before: opposing sides of the political spectrum ferociously criticising each other, getting hot under the collar about this and that, bringing up all sorts of allegations and innuendos. Then just as it looks as if the argument is about to get physical, harmony breaks out. A dialogue is opened, an accord or a compromise is found. And suddenly, just as quickly as it came, all that fiery rhetoric subsides and everyone realizes it was all synthetic, put on for show when all along some deal was imminent anyway. It's as if every politician is merely an actor in a little theatre, and as soon as the curtain falls and the public can't see them any more they all slap each other on the back, tot up the takings and go out for an expensive meal. ~ Tobias Jones
You're just pushing your food around, aren't you? You've barely taken two bites. I thought you loved Lou's Cornish hens."
"I do. I'm sorry. All I can think about is that English project due this week." I look over at Ryder with a faux scowl. "We're already way behind--you've always got some excuse. We should probably work on it tonight."
"Probably so," Ryder says with an exasperated-sounding sigh.
"That's the third project the two of you have been paired up on," Mama says, shaking her head. "I hope you two can behave well enough to get your work done properly. No more arguing like the last time."
We'd pretended to fight over a calculus project. Yes, a calculus project. Is there really any such thing?
"We're trying really hard to behave," I say, shooting Ryder a sidelong glance. "Right?"
His cheeks pinken deliciously at the innuendo. I love it when Ryder blushes. Totally adorable.
"Right," he mumbles, his gaze fixed on his lap.
Laura Grace gives us both a pointed look. "You two better learn to get along, you hear? You're going to be spending a lot of time together for the next four years."
Four years. Just the two of us--away from our meddling mamas. I have to bite my lip to force back the smile that's threatening to give us away.
"She's right," Mama says, nodding. "The only way I'm allowing Jemma to go to NYU is if she promises not to go off campus without Ryder to escort her."
Escort me? What is it, the 1950s or somethin ~ Kristi Cook
A sudden yowl from up ahead had them all starting. A small tree smoked on one side, the faint glow of fire darting from a burning patch of dead foliage. The yowl came again. Matt hurried over and peered up the tree to see a calico cat, its green eyes staring down, as if in accusation.
"No," Reyna said, stopping beside him. "We are not rescuing the cat."
"But the tree -"
"- is on fire. I see that. Have you ever owned a cat? If they can go up, they can come down. Guaranteed."
Matt eyed the feline. It eyed him back, then yowled, as if to say Well, hurry it up.
"It might be too scared to come down," he said.
"It's a cat," Reyna said. "They don't get scared - just annoyed, which I'm going to get if you insist on playing hero and rescuing that faker." She scowled at the cat. "Yes, I mean you. Faker."
The cat sniffed, then turned to Matt, clearly sensing the softer touch.
Owen stepped forward. "If you'll feel better rescuing the cat, Matt, then go ahead. We aren't on a tight schedule."
Reyna waved her arms around the smoking street. "Um, Ragnarök?"
"And the longer you two bicker ..."
"Fine," Reyna said. "I've got this." Before Matt could protest, she walked to the base of the tree, grabbed the lowest branch, and swung up. "Rodeo girl, remember? Also, five years of gymnastics, which my mother thought would make me more graceful and feminine. Her mistake."
She shimmied along a branch. "Come on, faker. I'm your designated hero ~ K.L. Armstrong
There has to be a time when we stop dreaming of things we'd like to accomplish and start going after these dreams. It's the fear of failure that stops you. The truth is we all need failure to understand there's nothing that's just given to us. When you get to the place you want to be you'll appreciate the failures along the way. ~ Ron Baratono
You're a man after my own heart," Hillary says with a smile. "That's actually a pet peeve of mine, and I think you verbalized it perfectly. The entire human race has this tendency - the inclination to cling to their own group. This obsession with sub-dividing ourselves is responsible for practically every evil in the world. Everyone fails to see that the hatred between our people is just another example in a series of these meaningless feuds. They all start with people who are extremely alike, and then a tiny difference creeps in, and people separate along that difference, after which insanity ensues. Sooner or later, you get that 'we hate you because you hate us' deadlock, or worse. ~ Dima Zales
A life had been ruined. What was it for: just some social media drama? I think our natural disposition as humans is to plod along until we get old and stop. But with social media, we've created a stage for constant artificial high drama. Every day a new person emerges as a magnificent hero or a sickening villain. It's all very sweeping, and not the way we actually are as people. ~ Jon Ronson
Also, he's deathly afraid of hearing something along the lines of "You know, kid, we just had a certain difference of opinion" as the beginning and end of conversation. He's afraid because that's exactly the kind of explanation he usually gets, and it makes him depressed. It interferes with his need to feel grown up. He has all the reasons to be afraid right now. The temptation to get rid of him with a pair of meaningless sentences is overwhelming. The explanations will only invite more questions, and then eventually I will run out of answers. But Smoker is impossible to get rid of. He opens his palm and all of himself is right there on it, and he just hands that to you. You can't throw away this naked soul, pretending like you don't understand what it is you've been offered and why. That's where his power comes from, out of this devastating openness. I've never met anyone like that before. ~ Mariam Petrosyan
Marginalia
Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
If I could just get my hands on you,
Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,
they seem to say,
I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head.
Other comments are more offhand, dismissive -
Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" -
that kind of thing.
I remember once looking up from my reading,
my thumb as a bookmark,
trying to imagine what the person must look like
who wrote "Don't be a ninny"
alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson.
Students are more modest
needing to leave only their splayed footprints
along the shore of the page.
One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's.
Another notes the presence of "Irony"
fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal.
Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers,
Hands cupped around their mouths.
Absolutely," they shout
to Duns Scotus and James Baldwin.
Yes." "Bull's-eye." "My man!"
Check marks, asterisks, and exclamation points
rain down along the sidelines.
And if you have managed to graduate from college
without ever having written "Man vs. Nature"
in a margin, perhaps now
is the time to take one step forward.
We have all seized the white perimeter as our ownBilly Collins
I walk along the avenue thinking how shit always sinks, and how all these towns dump their shit for the river to push it down to the delta. Then I think about that girl sitting in the alley, sitting in her own slough, and I shake my head. I have not gotten that low.
I stop in front of the bus station, look in on the waiting people, and think about all the places they are going. But I know they can't run away from it or drink their way out or die to get rid of it. It's always there, you just look at somebody and they give you a look like the Wrath of God. ~ Breece D'J Pancake
Work"
I laid telephone line, then cable when it came along. I pulled T-shirts off a silk-screen press. I cleaned offices in buildings thirty-five floors high. I filed the metal edges of grease fryers hot off a welding line. I humped sod in townhouse complexes, and when it became grass I cut it. I sorted mail. I washed police cars, and then I changed their oil. I installed remotes on gas meters so a truck could simply drive down the street and get the readings. I set posts and put up fences, wood and chain link. Five a.m. at the racetrack, I walked hot horses after their exercise. I bathed them. I mopped and swept aisles in a grocery store. Eventually, I stocked shelves. I corrected errors on mortgage papers for a bank. I racked tables in a pool hall. There's more I'm not telling you.
All of this befell me as an adult. As a kid, I cut neighbors' lawns and delivered newspapers, and I watched after little kids while their parents worked. I painted houses. I collected frogs from ponds and sold them to pet stores. And so on.
At fifteen, I went for a busboy position at an all-night diner, but they told me to come back when I turned sixteen. I did.
Sometimes, on top of one, I took a second job. It gave me just enough time to sleep between the two. And eat.
My father worked, harder than I did, and then he died. Then I worked harder. My mother said, "You're the man of the house now." I was seventeen. She kept an eye on me, t ~ Michael Stigman
Secret Door"
Fools on parade cavort and carry on
For waiting eyes
That you would rather be beside than in front of
But she's never been the kind to be hollowed by the stares
She swam out of tonight's phantasm
Grabbed my hand and made it very clear
There's absolutely nothing for us here
It's a magnolia celebration
To be attempted on a Wednesday night
It's better than to get a reputation
As a miserable little tyke
At least that's the conclusion
She came to in this overture
The secret door swings behind us
She's saying nothing
She's just giggling along
Her arms were folded most indignant
Not looking like she was soon to leave
I had to squint in order to believe
And then like a butler pushing on a bookshelf
I'm unveiling the unexpected
I, who was earlier reluctant, was suddenly embarrassed and corrected
How could such a creature
Survive in such a habitat
The secret door swings behind us
She's saying nothing
She's just giggling along
And even if they were to find us
I wouldn't notice, I'm completely occupied
At all the fools on parade
Cavort and carry on for waiting eyes
That you would rather be beside than in front of
But she's never been the kind
To be hollowed by the stares
Fools on parade
Frolic and fuck about to make her gaze
Turn to a scribble on a page by a ~ Arctic Monkey's
They say "doubt everything," but I disagree. Doubt is useful in small amounts, but too much of it leads to apathy and confusion. No, don't doubt everything. QUESTION everything. That's the real trick. Doubt is just a lack of certainty. If you doubt everything, you'll doubt evolution, science, faith, morality, even reality itself - and you'll end up with nothing, because doubt doesn't give anything back. But questions have answers, you see. If you question everything, you'll find that a lot of what we believe is untrue...but you might also discover that some things ARE true. You might discover what your own beliefs are. And then you'll question them again, and again, eliminating flaws, discovering lies, until you get as close to the truth as you can.
Questioning is a lifelong process. That's precisely what makes it so unlike doubt. Questioning engages with reality, interrogating all it sees. Questioning leads to a constant assault on the intellectual status quo, where doubt is far more likely to lead to resigned acceptance. After all, when the possibility of truth is doubtful (excuse the pun), why not simply play along with the most convenient lie?
Questioning is progress, but doubt is stagnation. ~ Tom Jubert / Jonas Kyratzes
People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along? Can we get along? Can we stop making it, making it horrible for the older people and the kids?
A man cannot know himself better than by attending to the feelings of his heart and to his external actions, from which he may with tolerable certainty judge "what manner of person he is." I have therefore determined to keep a daily journal. ~ James Boswell
Thinking back now, I can see we were just at that age when we knew a few things about ourselves - about who we were, how we were different from our guardians, from the people outside - but hadn't yet understood what any of it meant. I'm sure somewhere in your childhood, you too had an experience like ours that day; similar if not in the actual details, then inside, in the feelings. Because it doesn't really matter how well your guardians try to prepare you: all the talksvideos, discussions, warnings, none of that can really bring it home. Not when you're eight years old, and you're all together in a place like Hailsham; when you've got guardians like the ones we had; when the gardeners and the delivery men joke and laugh with you and call you "sweetheart."
All the same, some of it must go in somewhere. It must go in, because by the time a moment like that comes along, there's a part of you that's been waiting. Maybe from as early as when you're five or six, there's been a whisper going at the back of your head, saying: "One day, maybe not so long from now, you'll get to know how it feels." So you're waiting, even if you don't quite know it, waiting for the moment when you realise that you really are different to them; that there are people out there, like Madame, who don't hate you or wish you any harm, but who nevertheless shudder at the very thought of you - of how you were brought into this world and why - and who dread the idea of your hand brushing against theirs ~ Kazuo Ishiguro
I have to second Gran's thanks for not giving up on me."
"I did consider it a few times," she teased. "But you can be such an engaging fellow that I never considered it for long."
"And there was all that encouragement from my siblings," he said. "All their little machinations to help our romance along."
He had the satisfaction of watching his wife blush very prettily. "I didn't have anything to do with that. I had no idea they were trying to 'push you' anywhere."
"Of course you didn't. You don't have an ounce of guile in your entire body. But I knew what they were doing."
She blinked at him. "You did?"
"My siblings are as transparent as that fetching night rail you put on every evening."
"If you knew, why didn't you fight them?"
"Because they were pushing me in a direction I wanted to go."
"That's very sweet, but I'm sure you had no desire to marry until-"
"From the moment I met you, sweetheart, I could tell I was in trouble. I didn't acknowledge it, but on some level I sensed it. When a man first sees the thing he never realized he wanted, he knows it instantly. He just doesn't always know how to get it."
She laughed. "Oh, I think you figured out very quickly how to get it. You just kissed me until I stopped kneeing you in the privates, and after that I was putty in your hands."
"So that's the secret, is it?" Reaching over, he hauled her onto his lap. "Now I know how I'll be spending my afternoon."
Her eyes gle ~ Sabrina Jeffries
I did tap dancing and stuff like that at drama school. I did ballet as well. My dance teacher and I didn't necessarily get along all that well sometimes. She's brilliant ... but it's just because I don't like wearing tights that I put up a bit of a fight there, I think. ~ Tom Weston-Jones
Sunday night is my personal weekly Halloween.
I walk along slowly and drag my fingertips along the bars of chocolate. Goddamn, you sexy little squares. Dark, milk, white, I do not discriminate. I eat it all. Those fluorescent sour candies that only obnoxious little boys like. I suck candy apples clean. If an envelope seal is sweet, I'll lick it twice. Growing up, I was that kid who would easily get lured into a van with the promise of a lollipop.
Sometimes, I let the retail seduction last for twenty minutes, ignoring Marco and feeling up the merchandise, but I'm so tired of male voices.
"Five bags of marshmallows," Marco says in a resigned tone. "Wine. And a can of cat food."
"Cat food is low carb." He makes no move to scan anything, so I scan each item myself and unroll a few notes from my tips. "Your job involves selling things. Sell them. Change, please."
"I just don't know why you do this to yourself." Marco looks at the register with a moral dilemma in his eyes. "Every week you come and do this."
He hesitates and looks over his shoulder where his sugar book sits under a layer of dust. He knows not to try to slip it into my bag with my purchases.
"I don't know why you care, dude. Just serve me. I don't need your help." He's not entirely wrong about my being an addict. I would lick a line of icing sugar off this counter right now if no one were around. I would walk into a cane plantation and ~ Sally Thorne
Somewhere in, I think, the back of the mind of some [education] policy makers is this idea that if we fine-tune it well enough, if we just get it right, it will all hum along perfectly into the future. It won't, and it never did. ~ Ken Robinson
The way we envision the stars is by imagining they're attached to a giant invisible sphere surrounding the earth. It is a total fiction, really - just a construction we came up with to help us get our heads around the complexity of it all ... The ecliptic, put simply is the plane of the earth's orbit around the sun. But since we all live here on earth, we observe the sun to be moving along this plane instead. Why? Because what would be the point of looking at things from the perspective of the sun? That's no use to anyone ... Ergo, it's an imaginary circle, as it's only a part of our human construction of the cosmos. ~ Benjamin Wood
The worst thing was that even if you did your own job, if your teammate failed to do theirs, you could be blown away along with them. And yet, if you focused only on strengthening your own defenses, someone else could get killed. All we could do was trust our teammates, and those who failed were mercilessly culled. We'd been thrown into an extreme situation that was just like the front lines. In the end, we barely slept at all. ~ Carlo Zen
A few days earlier, Chess and Thomas had driven to Spokane for a cheap hamburger. They walked in downtown Spokane and stumbled onto a drunk couple arguing.
"Get the fuck away from me!" the drunk woman yelled at her drunk husband, who squeezed his hand into a fist like he meant to hit her.
Thomas and Chess flinched, then froze, transported back to all of those drunken arguments they'd witnessed and survived.
The drunk couple in downtown Spokane pulled at each other's clothes and hearts, but they were white people. Chess and Thomas knew that white people hurt each other, too. Chess knew that white people felt pain just like Indians, Nerve endings, messages to the brain, reflexes. The doctor swung hammer against knee, and the world collapsed.
"You fucker!" the white woman yelled at her husband, who opened his hands and held them out to his wife. An offering. That hand would not strike her. He pleaded with his wife until she fell back into his arms. That white woman and man held each other while Chess and Thomas watched. A hundred strangers walked by and never noticed any of it.
After that, Chess and Thomas had sat in the van in a downtown parking lot. Thomas began to weep, deep ragged tears that rose along his rib cage, filled his mouth and nose, and exploded out. ~ Sherman Alexie
What's a Hot Steam?" asked Dill. "Haven't you ever walked along a lonesome road at night and passed by a hot place?" Jem asked Dill. "A Hot Steam's somebody who can't get to heaven, just wallows around on lonesome roads an' if you walk through him, when you die you'll be one too, an' you'll go around at night suckin' people's breath - " "How can you keep from passing through one?" "You can't," said Jem. "Sometimes they stretch all the way across the road, but if you hafta go through one you say, 'Angel-bright, life-in-death; get off the road, don't suck my breath.' That keeps 'em from wrapping around you - ~ Harper Lee
It's a lost and lonely kind of feeling,
To wake up wearing a disguise.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling,
I don't know who I am
There's little that I can
Fully recognize....
But I'm taking small steps,
'Cause I don't know where I'm going.
I'm taking small steps
And I don't know what to say.
Small steps,
Trying to pull myself together,
And maybe I'll discover
A clue along the way....
Just to make it through the day and not to get hurt,
Seems about the best that I can hope.
Like coffee stains splattered on your sweatshirt
There isn't any pattern.
Everything's uncertain.
It's difficult to cope....
But I'm taking small steps,
'Cause I don't know where I'm going.
I'm taking small steps,
And I've forgotten how to play.
Small steps,
Trying to pull myself together,
And maybe I'll discover,
A clue along the way....
And if someday my small steps bring me near you,
Please don't rush to tell me all you feel.
You don't have to speak for me to hear you.
If I softly sigh,
Look me in the eye
And let me know I'm real....
Then we'll take small steps,
'Cause we won't know where we're going.
We'll take small steps,
And we'll have too much to say.
Small steps,
Hand in hand we'll walk together,
And maybe we'll discover
A clue along the way....
Louis Sachar
But the lie had to be a good one, because if your lie is badly done it makes everyone feel wretched, liar and lied-to alike plunged into the deepest lackadaisy, and everyone just feels like going into the other room and drinking a glass of water, or whatever is available there, whereas if you can lie really well then get dynamite results, 35 percent report increased intellectual understanding, awareness, insight, 40 percent report more tolerance, acceptance of others, liking for self, 29 percent report they receive more personal and more confidential information from people and that others become more warm and supportive toward them
all in consequence of a finely orchestrated, carefully developed untruth. ~ Donald Barthelme
It's weird being alone in the museum. It's dark and eerily quiet: Only the after-hours lights are on - just enough to illuminate the hallways and stop you from tripping over your own feet - and the background music that normally plays all the time is shut off.
I quickly organize the flashlights and check their batteries, and when I don't hear Porter walking around, I stare at the phone sitting at the information desk. How many chances come along like this? I pick up the receiver, press the little red button next to the word ALL, and speak into the phone in a low voice. "Paging Porter Roth to the information desk," I say formally, my voice crackling through the entire lobby and echoing down the corridors. Then I press the button again and add, "While you're at it, check your shoes to make sure they're a match, you bastard. By the way, I still haven't quite forgiven you for humiliating me. It's going to take a lot more than a kiss and a cookie to make me forget both that and the time you provoked me in the Hotbox."
I'm only teasing, which I hope he knows. I feel a little drunk on all my megaphone power, so I page one more thing:
"PS - You look totally hot in those tight-fitting security guard pants tonight, and I plan to get very handsy with you at the movies, so we better sit in the back row."
I hang up the phone and cover my mouth, silently laughing at myself. Two seconds later, Porter's footfalls pound down Jay's corridor - Boom! B ~ Jenn Bennett
We are probably the most frustrating band to soundcheck because we always go off on jams and our sound-man is sitting there going: "oh god, I don't want to interrupt this, but ... we've got to get things moving along ... " We're just easily distracted because we want to be writing all the time! ~ Theresa Wayman
Genetics means that my parents really aren't my parents. I know Galen has thought this all along, but I still can't accept it. I also can't completely shun the possibility either. Especially after I just conducted a symphony of fish. How would I even start that conversation with my mom? "So, Galen thinks you've been lying to me for the past eighteen years." Even if I didn't say it directly, that's what it amounts to. And when she asks where I'd get an idea like that? "Well, I recently discovered I can hold my breath for almost two hours and tell fish what to do. I couldn't help but notice that you can't." Yeah, not happening. There's got to be some other way ... ~ Anna Banks
Came Honker's trip to Slice City along about then: our sax-man got a neck all full of the sharpest kind of steel. So we were out one horn. And you could tell: we played a little bit too rough, and the head-arrangements Collins and His Crew grew up to, they needed Honker's grease in the worst way. But we'd been together for five years or more, and a new man just didn't play somehow. We were this one solid thing, like a unit, and somebody had cut off a piece of us and we couldn't grow the piece back so we just tried to get along anyway, bleeding every night, bleeding from that wound. ("Black Country") ~ Charles Beaumont
To be yourself is in many ways to be inconvenient to others. Only placaters and appeasers get along with other people all the time and that's not really getting along with anyone. That's just self erasure. ~ Stefan Molyneux
We climbed this hill. Each step up we could see farther, so of course we kept going. Now we're at the top. Science has been at the top for a few centuries now. And we look out across the plain and we see this other tribe dancing around above the clouds, even higher than we are. Maybe it's a mirage, maybe it's a trick. Or maybe they just climbed a higher peak we can't see because the clouds are blocking the view. So we head off to find out - but every step takes us downhill. No matter what direction we head, we can't move off our peak without losing our vantage point. So we climb back up again. We're trapped on a local maximum. But what if there is a higher peak out there, way across the plain? The only way to get there is to bite the bullet, come down off our foothill and trudge along the riverbed until we finally start going uphill again. And it's only then you realize: Hey, this mountain reaches way higher than that foothill we were on before, and we can see so much better from up here. But you can't get there unless you leave behind all the tools that made you so successful in the first place. You have to take that first step downhill. ~ Peter Watts
