Po Quotes

Her entire life she'd struggled to lose the extra weight that enjoyed residing at five foot four Maggie Lawson. PO Box ASS, Zip code THIGHS. Seems it was its permanent address, and she'd come to accept the houseguests. ~ Lisa Eugene

Upon your feet you have ten toes, they look just like PO-TA-TOES! ~ Jeff Smith

Like a lot of black people, I grew up straight po'. Wasn't no question about whether we was po', either. If you really wanted to know, all you had to do was look in our refrigerator. ~ Bernie Mac

One of the things we love about Po [Kung Fu Panda] is that he's vulnerable. He's someone that we can all identify with because he has those insecurities. He's an outsider feeling guy. ~ Jennifer Yuh Nelson

I learned that it was in hard times that people usually changed the course of their life; in good times, they frequently only talked about change. Hard times forced them to overcome the doubts that normally gave them pause.It surprised me how often we hold ourselves back until we have no choice. ~ Po Bronson

What was the difference between a husband and a lover?
If she took Po as her husband, she would be making promises about a future she couldn't yet see. For once she became his wife, she would be his wife forever. And, no matter how much freedom Po gave her, she would always know that it was a gift. Her freedom would not be her own; it would be Po's to give or to withhold. That he never would withhold it made no difference. If it did not come from her, it was not really hers.
If Po were her lover, would she feel captured, cornered into a sense of forever? Or would she still have the freedom that sprang from herself? ~ Kristin Cashore

He made her drunk, this man made her drunk; and every time his eyes flashed into hers she could not breathe. ~ Kristin Cashore

Children key off their parents' reaction more than the argument or physical discipline itself. ~ Po Bronson

The windowless room where the po`ouli cells are kept alive - sort of - is called the Frozen Zoo. ~ Elizabeth Kolbert

Americans
must recognize that a highly sophisticated, highly advanced po
litical system, which required many centuries to develop in the
West, may not be best for other nations which have far different
traditions and are still in an earlier stage of development. What
matters is that these governments are consciously, deliberately and programmatically developing in the direction of greater
liberty, greater abundance, broader choice and increased popular involvement in the process of government. ~ Richard M. Nixon

The landscape of Turin, the monumental squares, the promenades along the Po river, were bathed in a kind of 'Claude Lorraine' luminosity (Dostoyevsky's golden age), a diaphonousness that removed the weight of things and made them recede into a infinite distance. The stream of light here became a stream of laughter - the laughter from which truth emerges, the laughter in which identities explode, including Nietzsche's. What also exploded is the meaning that things can have or lose for other things, not in terms of limited linkage or narrow context, but in terms of variations of light ~ Pierre Klossowski

Enlightenment does not mean that your ego is suppressed or denied. It does mean that it is deconstructed, seen through, exposed, and then reeducated and reconstructed. ~ Jun Po Roshi

I don't want to come over all po-faced, because ultimately Sherlock is just entertainment, but if I can, I want to try to set a good example. ~ Louise Brealey

Then he laughed, and the sound was a comfort to her, and she fought against the and silver lights that shown in his eyes, and lost. When he spoke his voice was soft.
"And now I'm wondering," he said, "how it is you don't realize your eyes ensnare me, just as mine do you. I can't explain it, Kate's, but you shouldn't let it embarrass you. For we're both overtaken by the same--foolishness. ~ Kristin Chashore

She lived with the doctor on Via Po, in a gloomy, dark apartment, barely warmed in winter by just a small Franklin stove, and she no longer threw out anything, because everything might eventually come in handy: not even the cheese rinds or the foil on chocolates, with which she made silver balls to be sent to missions to free a little black boy. ~ Primo Levi

In the United States, France, and most other countries, talk about the virtues of the national meritocratic model is seldom based on close examination of the facts. Often the purpose is to justify existing inequalities while ignoring the sometimes patent failures of the current system. In 1872, Emile Boutmy created Sciences Po with a clear mission in mind: "obliged to submit to the rule of the majority, the classes that call themselves the upper classes can preserve their political hegemony only by invoking the rights of the most capable. As traditional upper-class prerogatives crumble, the wave of democracy will encounter a second rampart, built on eminently useful talents, superiority that commands prestige, and abilities of which society cannot sanely deprive itself. ~ Thomas Piketty

Smeagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and - taters. What's taters,precious, eh, what's taters?"
"Po-ta-toes!" said Sam. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

I think it's because Po [from Kung Fu Panda] is such a geek, and he is so relatable. He is so excited by life and is excited to learn new things. I think that accessibility is something that we all can relate to, there are so many things we wish we could do but don't have the means to achieve it. ~ Jennifer Yuh Nelson

The tougher the times, the more clarity you gain about the difference between what really matters and what you only pretend to care about. ~ Po Bronson

Do not permit the events of your daily lives to bind you, but never withdraw yourselves from them. Only by acting thus can you earn the title of 'A Liberated One'. ~ Huang Po

Anytime you exhaust yourself trying to relax, that's active leisure. ~ Po Bronson

I wish people would stop hitting Po," whispered Bitterblue.
"Well," Giddon said. "Yes. I'm hoping Skye is following my model. Punch Po; go on a long trip; feel better; come back and make up. ~ Kristin Cashore

How often a mother initiates a conversation with her child is not predictive of the language outcomes - what matters is, if the infant initiates, whether the mom responds. ~ Po Bronson

I have consumed more drink than the first
one hundred men you will pass
on the street
or meet in the madhouse.
I scratch my belly and dream of the
albatross.
I have joined the great drunks of
the centuries:
Li Po, Toulouse-Lautrec, Crane, Faulkner.
I have been selected
but by whom? ~ Charles Bukowski

(about Dr. Po) Just another quack spouting psychobabble. ~ Eoin Colfer

I'm convinced that business success in the future starts with the question, What should I do with my life? Yes, that's right ... People don't succeed by migrating to a "hot" industry (one word: dotcom) or by adopting a particular career-guiding mantra (remember "horizontal careers"?). They thrive by focusing on the question of who they really are
and connecting that to work that they truly love (and, in so doing, unleashing a productive and creative power that they never imagined). ~ Po Bronson

Suicide is career gold for the poet. Sadly, the poet isn't around to reap any benefits from it. ~ Jim Behrle

Po flickered. "Thank you?" it repeated. "What is that?"
Liesl thought. "It means, You were wonderful," she said. "It means, I couldn't have done it without you. ~ Lauren Oliver

The more controlling the parent," Caldwell explained, "the more likely a child is to experience boredom. ~ Po Bronson

We're all so happy you're feeling better, Miss McIntosh. Looks like you still have a good bump on your noggin, though," she says in her childlike voice.
Since there is no bump on my noggin, I take a little offense but decide to drop it. "Thanks, Mrs. Poindexter. It looks worse than it feels. Just a little tender."
"Yeah, I'd say the door got the worst of it," he says beside me. Galen signs himself in on the unexcused tardy sheet below my name. When his arm brushes against mine, it feels like my blood's turned into boiling water.
I turn to face him. My dreams really do not do him justice. Long black lashes, flawless olive skin, cut jaw like an Italian model, lips like-for the love of God, have some dignity, nitwit. He just made fun of you. I cross my arms and lift my chin. "You would know," I say.
He grins, yanks my backpack from me, and walks out. Trying to ignore the waft of his scent as the door shuts, I look to Mrs. Poindexter, who giggles, shrugs, and pretends to sort some papers. The message is clear: He's your problem, but what a great problem to have. Has he charmed he sense out of the staff here, too? If he started stealing kids' lunch money, would they also giggle at that? I growl through clenched teeth and stomp out of the office.
Galen is waiting for me right outside the door, and I almost barrel into him. He chuckles and catches my arm. "This is becoming a habit for you, I think."
After I'm steady-after Galen steadies me, that is-I po ~ Anna Banks

For folks who have that casual-dude energy coursing through their bloodstream, that's great. But gays should not grow up alienated just for us to alienate each other. It's too predictable, like any other cycle of abuse. Plus, the conformist, competitive notion that by "toning down" we are "growing up" ultimately blunts the radical edge of what it is to be queer; it truncates our colorful journey of identity.

Said another way, it's like living in West Hollywood and working a gay job by day and working it in the gay nightlife, wearing delicate shiny shirts picked from up the gay dry cleaners, yet coquettishly left unbuttoned to reveal the pec implants purchased from a gay surgeon and shown off by prancing around the gay-owned-and-operated theater hopped up on gay health clinic steroids and wheat grass purchased from the friendly gay boy who's new to the city, and impressed by the monstrous SUV purchased from a gay car dealership with its rainbow-striped bumper sticker that says "Celebrate Diversity." Then logging on to the local Gay.com listings and describing yourself as "straight-acting."

Let me make myself clear. This is not a campaign for everyone to be like me. That'd be a total yawn. Instead, this narrative is about praise for the prancy boys. Granted, there's undecided gender-fucks, dagger dykes, faux-mos, po-mos, FTMs, fisting-top daddies, and lezzie looners who also need props for broadening the sexual spectrum, but they're telling their own stor ~ Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore

But Wordsworth stuck with me when he said, "Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity." This book is a spontaneous overflow in the middle of chaos, not tranquillity. So it's not a poem to you. It's a half poem. It's a "po." It's a Poehler po. Wordsworth also said that the best part of a person's life is "his little, nameless, unremembered, acts of kindness and of love." I look forward to reading a book one day in which someone lists mine. I feel like I may have failed to do so. Either way, it's obvious I am currently on a Wordsworth kick and this should give you literary confidence as you read Yes Please. The ~ Amy Poehler

It's not easy. It's not supposed to be easy. Most people make mistakes. Most people have to learn the hardest lessons more than once. ~ Po Bronson

I thought it was supposed to be impossible to sneak up on you. Eyes of a hawk and ears of a wolf and all. ~ Kristin Cashore

When the long bygone Lee Po wanted to say something, he could do it with only a few words. ~ Dejan Stojanovic

What's the big idea?" Sabrina demanded.
"I declared war on you, remember?" Puck said.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. "Is this another one of your stupid pranks?"
Puck sniffed. "You have contaminated me with your puberty virus and you called my villainy into question."
"First of all, puberty isn't a virus," Sabrina said as she fought a tug of was with the Pegasus for her now rather damp pillow."Secondly, I'm sorry if I gave you the itty-bitty baby and boo-boo face. Do you wasnt me to give you a hug?"
Puck curled his lip in anger.
"Oh, now is the baby cranky. Perhaps we should put him down for a nap?"
"We'll see who's laughing soon enough," Puck said. "You see these flying horses?"
"Duh!"
"These horses have a very special diet," Puck said. "For the last two days they have eaten nothing but chili dogs and prune juice."
Sabrina heard a rumble coming from Puck's horse. It was so loud it drowned out the sound of its beating wings. Sabrina couldn't tell if the churn of the sound was worse for the Pegasus but it whined a bit and its eyes bulged nervously.
Puck continued. "Now, chili dogs and prune juice are a hard combination on a person's belly. It can keep a human being on the toilet for a week. Imagine what would happen if I fed chili dogs and prune juice to an eight-hundred-and-fifty-pound flying horse. Oh, wait a minute! You don't have to imagine it. I did feed chili dogs and prune juice to an eight-hundred-and-fifty-po ~ Michael Buckley

It hurt her eyes, almost, Ror City; and it didn't surprise her that Po should come from a place that shone. ~ Kristin Cashore

Mr. Smith was an art-ist, as well as an in-vent-or, and he paint-ed a pic-ture of a riv-er which was so nat-ur-al that, as he was reach-ing a-cross it to paint some flow-ers on the op-po-site bank, he fell in-to the wa-ter and was drowned. ~ L. Frank Baum

Ben remembered that in Italy, he and Rachel had slipped down between rows of apple trees on the plain of the Po, deep into the cool and dark of orchards, and there they had kissed with the sadness of newlyweds who know that their kisses are too poignantly tender and that their good fortune is subject, like all things, to the crush of time, which remorselessly obliterates what is most desired and pervades all that is beautiful. ~ David Guterson

Not till your thoughts cease all their branching here and there, not till you abandon all thoughts of seeking for something, not till your mind is motionless as wood or stone, will you be on the right road to the Gate. ~ Huang Po

The following year the house was substantially remodeled, and the conservatory removed. As the walls of the now crumbling wall were being torn down, one of the workmen chanced upon a small leatherbound book that had apparently been concealed behind a loose brick or in a crevice in the wall. By this time Emily Dickinson was a household name in Amherst. It happened that this carpenter was a lover of poetry- and hers in particular- and when he opened the little book and realized that that he had found her diary, he was "seized with a violent trembling," as he later told his grandson. Both electrified and terrified by the discovery, he hid the book in his lunch bucket until the workday ended and then took it home. He told himself that after he had read and savored every page, he would turn the diary over to someone who would know how to best share it with the public. But as he read, he fell more and more deeply under the poet's spell and began to imagine that he was her confidant. He convinced himself that in his new role he was no longer obliged to give up the diary. Finally, having brushed away the light taps of conscience, he hid the book at the back of an oak chest in his bedroom, from which he would draw it out periodically over the course of the next sixty-four years until he had virtually memorized its contents. Even his family never knew of its existence.

Shortly before his death in 1980 at the age of eighty-nine, the old man finally showed his most prized po ~ Jamie Fuller

Merry Christmas to all, and y'all sleep tight. ~ Po Bronson

Marina Orlova was hooked on my quote about women not owing men. I scrolled through her posted paintings and recalled a Slovak friend once commenting on a guy wanna-be a great painter, something like this: "Aaano, on bol profesionalnym maljiarom na Slovensku, maloval tam pice a hakove krize po stenach". He meant graffiti, but I hesitate to translate it in detail for it may sound too rough. Another thought is about surreal, sometimes spurious aesthetics mixed with hinted or daring sexuality, which Marina Orlova endorses, deliberately or not, in line of her claimed profession. The posts call to mind The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover or even Titus Andronicus. No wonder, thousands of bozos are attracted to her internet activity because ... , well, the woman is hot. ~ Vinko Vrbanic

She glanced up at him, and in that moment he pulled his wet shirt over his head. She forced her mind blank. Blank as a new sheet of paper, blank as a starless sky. He came to the fire and crouched before it. He rubbed the water from his bare arms and flicked it in the flames. She stared at the goose and sliced his drumstick carefully and thought of the blankest expression on the blankest face she could possibly imagine. It was a chilly evening; she thought about that. The goose would be delicious, they must eat as much of it as possible, they must not waste it; she thought about that. ~ Kristin Cashore

When someone, anyone! Black, white, red, yellow, brown. Anybody! Disrespects you, get right on their ass, and stay there until somebody pulls you off. That's how you get respect, and teach people not to fuck with you at the same time. ~ Po Sally

As she left the room, Po went to Katsa, pulled her up, sat himself in her chair, and drew her into his lap. Shushing her, he rocked her, the two of them holding on to each other as if it were the only thing keeping the world from bursting apart. ~ Kristin Cashore

So we sit there
together
the mountain
and me, Li Po
said, until only the mountain
remains. ~ Franz Wright

She found him standing before the water staring unseeing at its frozen surface. He was shivering. She watched him doubtfully for a moment. 'Po,' she said to his back, where's your coat?'
'Where's yours?'
She moved to stand beside him. 'I'm warm.'
He tilted his head to her. 'If you're warm and I'm coatless, there's only one friendly thing for you to do.'
'Go back and get your coat for you?'
He smiled. Reaching out to her, he pulled her close against him. Katsa wrapped her arms around him, surprised, and tried to rub some warmth into his shivering shoulders and back.
'That's it exactly,' Po said. 'You must keep me warm.'
She laughed and held him tighter. ~ Kristin Cashore

I look at the blanked-out faces of the other passengers--hoisting their briefcases, their backpacks, shuffling to disembark--and I think of what Hobie said: beauty alters the grain of reality. And I keep thinking too of the more conventional wisdom: namely, that the pursuit of pure beauty is a trap, a fast track to bitterness and sorrow, that beauty has to be wedded to something more meaningful.

Only what is that thing? Why am I made the way I am? Why do I care about all the wrong things, and nothing at all for the right ones? Or, to tip it another way: how can I see so clearly that everything I love or care about is illusion, and yet--for me, anyway--all that's worth living for lies in that charm?

A great sorrow, and one that I am only beginning to understand: we don't get to choose our own hearts. We can't make ourselves want what's good for us or what's good for other people. We don't get to choose the people we are.

Because--isn't it drilled into us constantly, from childhood on, an unquestioned platitude in the culture--? From William Blake to Lady Gaga, from Rousseau to Rumi to Tosca to Mister Rogers, it's a curiously uniform message, accepted from high to low: when in doubt, what to do? How do we know what's right for us? Every shrink, every career counselor, every Disney princess knows the answer: "Be yourself." "Follow your heart."

Only here's what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be po ~ Donna Tartt

Consider the sunlight. You may see it is near, yet if you follow it from world to world you will never catch it in your hands. Then you may describe it as far away and, lo, you will see it just before your eyes. Follow it and, behold, it escapes you; run from it and it follows you close. You can neither possess it nor have done with it. From this example you can understand how it is with the true Nature of all things and, henceforth, there will be no need to grieve or to worry about such things. ~ Huang Po

She thought for a moment, then said, When we are young, we think life will be like a su po: one fabric, one weave, one grand design. But in truth, life turns out to be more like the patchwork cloths
bits and pieces, odds and ends
people, places, things we never expected, never wanted, perhaps. There is harmony in this, too, and beauty. I suppose that is why I like the chogak po. ~ Alan Brennert

When we changed the channel from violent television to tamer fare, kids just ended up learning the advanced skills of clique formation, friendship withdrawal, and the art of the insult. ~ Po Bronson

Curiosity is a raw and genuine sign from deep inside our tangled psyches, and we'd do well to follow the direction it points us in. ~ Po Bronson

We all make mistakes, but we need to learn from them and move on. You can own a mistake, or the mistake will own you. ~ Po Bronson

I used to want to change the world. Now I'm open to letting it change me. ~ Po Bronson

Isn't is lovely to be all together again? Raffin said, throwing one arm around Po and the other around Bann.
She wanted them near, even if they were subsumed by their own affairs, she needed them at sword practice in the morning, at dinner at night, moving and shifting around her, there and gone, back again, arguing, teasing, acting like people who knew who they were. ~ Kristin Cashore

I used to use business to make money. But I've learned that business is a tool. You can use it to support what you believe in. ~ Po Bronson

Now, you might think that because there are more poets than ever, there might be more opportunities for poets than ever. And you'd be correct. If your fondest wish is to become the next totally obscure minor poet on the block, well, you're probably already successful at that. This literary landscape has proven itself infinitely capable of absorbing countless interchangeable artists, all doing roughly the same thing in relative anonymity: just happily plucking away until death at the grindstone, making no great cultural headway, bouncing poems off their friends and an audience of about 40 people. A totally fine little life for an artist, to be sure. No grand expectations from the world to sit up and listen. One can live out one's days quite satisfied to create something enjoyed by a genial cult. But that's not why any of us are here tonight. We're here to conquer American Poetry and suck it dry of all glory and juice. ~ Jim Behrle

What was the battle? What were the aims of the romantics? Why was the subject
the focus of such violent interest?
Hugo and his generation were all 'enfants du siècle', all, give or take a year or
two, born with the century. Brought up amidst the dramas of Napoleon's wars,
they had reached manhood to the anticlimax of peace and Bourbon rule. Restless
and dissatisfied, their dreams of military glory frustrated, they had turned them-
selves instead towards the liberation of the arts, their foes no longer the armies of
Europe but the tyrannies of classical tradition.

For thirty years, while the nation's energies had been absorbed in politics and
war, the arts had virtually stood still in France, frozen, through lack of challenge, in
the classical attitudes of the old régime. The violent emotions and experiences of
the Napoleonic era had done much to render them meaningless. 'Since the cam-
paign in Russia,' said a former officer to Stendhal, 'Iphigénie en Aulide no longer
seems such a good play.'

By the 1820s while the academic establishment, hiding its own sterility behind
the great names of the past, continued to denounce all change, the ice of clas-
sicism was beginning to crack. New influences were crowding in from abroad:
Chateaubriand, the 'enchanter', had cast his spell on the rising generation; the po-
etry of Lamartine, Hugo and Vigny heralded the spring ~ Linda Kelly

Liesl & Po is the embodiment of what writing has always been for me at its purest and most basic - not a paycheck, certainly; not an idea, even; and not an escape. Actually, it is the opposite of an escape; it is a way back in, a way to enter and make sense of a world that occasionally seems harsh and terrible and mystifying,
And, of course, it is a way of finding a happy ending - even, or especially, when the happy ending is denied me in real life. Let it be an escape for its readers. For me, it is a way of not letting go. ~ Lauren Oliver

I can connect with peoples' pain because I was 'po' before I was 'poor'. ~ Herman Cain

Great seas," he said.
"What do you want?"
He held the candle up to her face.
"Po, what do you want?"
"She did a far better job than I would've done. ~ Kristin Cashore

Darling found that permissive parents don't actually learn more about their child's lives. "Kids who go wild and get in trouble mostly have parents who don't set rules or standards. Their parents are loving and accepting no matter what the kids do. But the kids take the lack of rules as a sign their parents don't actually care - that their parent doesn't really want this job of being the parent. ~ Po Bronson

Books have been my classroom and my confidant. Books have widened my horizons. Books have comforted me in my hardest times. Books have changed my life. ~ Po Bronson

They said later that Mrs. Merriweather was putting her all into the grand finale, that she had crooned, "Po-ork," with a confidence born of pine trees and butterbeans entering on cue. She waited a few seconds, then called, "Po-ork?" When nothing materialized, she yelled, "Pork! ~ Harper Lee

Still doing your best to ruin the horses, I see.'
Katsa froze. The voice came from above rather than behind, and it didn't sound quite like Skye. She turned.
'I though it was supposed to be impossible to sneak up on you. Eyes of a hawk and ears of a wolf and all that,' he said- and there, he was there, standing straight, eyes glimmering, mouth twitching, and the path he'd plowed through the snow stretching behind him. Katsa cried out and ran, tackling Po so hard that he fell back into the snow and she on top of him. And he laughed, and held her tight, and she was crying; and then Bitterblue came and threw herself squealing on top of them. ~ Kristin Cashore

Po swirled upward from where it had been sitting, and floated over to the window. "When you go swimming and you put your head under the water," Po said, "and everything is strange and underwater-sounding, and strange and underwater-looking, you don't miss the air do you? You don't miss the above-water sounds and the above-water look. It's just different."
"True." Liesl was quiet for a moment. Then she added, "But I bet you'd miss it if you were drowning. I bet you'd really miss the air then. ~ Lauren Oliver

Obese kids watch no more television than kids who aren't obese. All the thin kids watch massive amounts of television, too. There is no statistical correlation between obesity and media use, period. ~ Po Bronson

She made a creche outside the Inn. The natives thought it was wonderful, and Sister Honey was gratified by their numbers.
Why have the devils with wings come to mock at the poor baby?' asked the children, pointing to the angels.
The baby is the Number One Lord Jesus Christ,' Ayah told them.
But he hasn't any clothes on! Aren't they going to give Him anything? Not a little red robe? Not a bit of melted butter?'
This is His Mother,' said Ayah, showing them the little porcelain Virgin in blue and white and pink. 'He is her child.'
That isn't true,' said the women, measuring the baby with their eyes. 'He's too big to be possible. Probably He's a dragon, an evil spirit in the shape of a child, and presently He'll eat up the woman. ~ Rumer Godden

Po Campo had given him a hailstone dipped in molasses and he sat licking it and feeling alternately happy and sad while the men got dressed and prepared to be cowboys again. ~ Larry McMurtry

Liesl knew then that Po had been lying. The ghost did miss the living side. She understood then, too, that everyone drowns differently; and that for everyone, even ghosts, there is a different kind of air. ~ Lauren Oliver

In the mornin' po-lice at my door
Fresh adidas squeak across the bathroom floor
Out the back window.. I make a escape
Don't even get a chance to grab my old school tape ~ Ice-T

In the vicinity the city's committee consider me
The trilogy of terror, whatever I do I bring light
You're blinded by the glare of the trendsetter
Beware when I strike, blueprints like no other
The soldier of fortune, the undercover
Rebel of rap attackin the ones who's attackin blacks
I'm on a mission of peace, I make tracks
Elevate with the almighty God in front of me
Teach seeds in the hood the truth, the wannabe
Competitor will have no other choice but to surrender
Can't stand the pressure, the extinction agenda. ~ Prince Po

Most peasants did not miss the school.

"What's the point?" they would say.

"You pay fees and read for years, and in the end you are still a peasant, earning your food with your sweat. You don't get a grain of rice more for being able to read books. Why waste time and money?

Might as well start earning your work points right away."

The virtual absence of any chance of a better future and the near total immobility for anyone born a peasant took the incentive out of the pursuit of knowledge. Children of school age would stay at home to help their families with their work or look after younger brothers and sisters. They would be out in the fields when they were barely in their teens. As for girls, the peasants considered it a complete waste of time for them to go to school.

"They get married and belong to other people. It's like pouring water on the ground."

The Cultural Revolution was trumpeted as having brought education to the peasants through 'evening classes." One day my production team announced it was starting evening classes and asked Nana and me to be the teachers. I was delighted. However, as soon as the first 'class' began, I realized that this was no education.

The classes invariably started with Nana and me being asked by the production team leader to read out articles by Mao or other items from the People's Daily. Then he would make an hour-long speech consisting of all the latest po ~ Jung Chang

I'm bored to death. Perhaps I should pillage one of my neighbors for my own amusement. It seems to work for Drowden. ~ Kristin Cashore

I suppose I'm not quite the oldest detective on the block - David Jason is. When's he going to retire and give rest of us a chance?! No, his Touch Of Frost is terrific and a wonderful antidote to the po-faced detective shows around at the moment. Anyway, I can't retire. I have a wife and five chickens to feed. ~ John Nettles

Educational television had a dramatic effect on relational aggression. The more the kids watched, the crueler they'd be to their classmates. This correlation was 2.5 times higher than the correlation between violent media and physical aggression. ~ Po Bronson

King Drowden has given his men instructions to infiltrate the town, bribe townspeople for the secrets of their neighbors, steal the neighbors' hidden treasures. Much more subtle than Drowden's usual smash and burn technique. We do hope Drowden isn't growing a brain. ~ Kristin Cashore

Kiss me already, god. I can't take the hungry looks any longer." She told him with boldness. Her breath fanning his face and her eyes … fuck, her eyes could seduce any man and they trained on him.

Then he kissed her.

A growl gurgling at the back of his throat, he took her lips like he'd been starving for his whole life waiting for a kiss like this one.

Her mouth offered him everything Butcher didn't know he'd needed and now was dying for.

She was a breath. A yearning.
Her mouth parted so inviting and he dove in with his tongue.

When her taste filled his mouth, the ticking bomb inside his head intensified. It only grew louder as her fingers speared into his hair and kissed him back like she was meant to kiss only him.

Like she needed his flavor drenching her mouth in the same way.
She moaned.
Butcher grunted his arousal, holding the back of her head to keep her right there. And when her mouth opened again, he pushed in to chase her tongue.

His free hand sloped down the curve of her back until he had a grip of her ass, helping her to move on him. Fuck, she was like a serpent curling her hips, driving him crazy and then crazier still, he lifted his pelvis from the chair in hopes of getting closer to that heaven but that would only happen if she let Butcher take her somewhere private.
One more taste.
Another bite and suck.
One more bruising kiss.
Not a kiss. It was a po ~ V. Theia

He was handsome, like Po, and confident, like Po, and so much more authoritative in his bearing than Po could ever be. But - this Katsa came gradually to understand - he was not drunk on his power. He might never dream of helping a sailor to haul a rope, but he would stand with the sailor interestedly while the sailor hauled the rope, and ask him questions about the rope, about his work, his home, his mother and father, his cousin who spent a year once in the lakes of Nander. It struck Katsa that there was a thing she'd never encountered: a king who looked at his people, instead of looking over their heads, a king who saw outside himself. ~ Kristin Cashore

Success is not measured by bestseller lists. Certain types of great books sell very well; other types of great books don't sell a lot. But they're both great. ~ Po Bronson

All things are like spring dreams, passing with no trace. ~ Su Tung-po

Po looked at her, but he didn't see her. His eyes snapped, silver ice and gold fire. ~ Kristin Cashore

Given an area of law that legislators were happy to hand over to the affected industries and a technology that was both unfamiliar and threatening, the prospects for legislative insight were poor. Lawmakers were assured by lobbyists
a) that this was business as usual, that no dramatic changes were being made by the Green or White papers; or
b) that the technology presented a terrible menace to the American cultural industries, but that prompt and statesmanlike action would save the day; or
c) that layers of new property rights, new private enforcers of those rights, and technological control and surveillance measures were all needed in order to benefit consumers, who would now be able to "purchase culture by the sip rather than by the glass" in a pervasively monitored digital environment.
In practice, somewhat confusingly, these three arguments would often be combined. Legislators' statements seemed to suggest that this was a routine Armageddon in which firm, decisive statesmanship was needed to preserve the digital status quo in a profoundly transformative and proconsumer way. Reading the congressional debates was likely to give one conceptual whiplash.
To make things worse, the press was - in 1995, at least - clueless about these issues. It was not that the newspapers were ignoring the Internet. They were paying attention - obsessive attention in some cases. But as far as the mainstream press was concerned, the story line on the Internet was sex: po ~ James Boyle

They seemed no closer to the tops of the peaks that rose before them. It was only by looking back, to the forest far below, that she knew they'd climbed. ~ Kristin Cashore

I've liked you better when Katsa's around,' Giddon said. 'She's so rotten to me that you seem positively pleasant in contrast. ~ Kristin Cashore

There was no helping her tears. For they would leave Po behind… She cried into his shoulder like a child. Ashamed of herself, for it was only a parting, and Bitterblue had not wept like this even over a death.

'Don't be ashamed,' Po whispered. 'Your sadness is dear to me. Don't be frightened. I won't die, Katsa. I won't die, and we'll meet again. ~ Kristin Cashore

Your true Zen nature can never be gained or lost. It is what you are. ~ Huang Po & Thomas E Uharriet

Would you please do me the honor of telling me WHAT THE BLAZES IS GOING ON? ~ Kristin Cashore

There has never been a shrimp that I've eaten that I haven't been like, 'I am so lucky that I get to eat this.' I would eat a shrimp enchilada, shrimp burrito, shrimp cocktail, fried shrimp, shrimp po boy, shrimp gumbo. ~ Isabel Gillies

When I was a kid in Houston, we were so poor we couldn't afford the last 2 letters, so we called ourselves po'. ~ George Foreman

Interests evolve into hobbies or volunteer work, which grow into passions. It takes time, more time than anyone imagines. ~ Po Bronson

Katsa and Po had their arms around each other. It was difficult to tell if they were still wrestling or if the kissing had begun. ~ Kristin Cashore

I go to Buzzfeed and 'Huff Po,' IMDB, 'Deadline.' And then I just Google myself, like 'Aasif Mandvi in a hat,' and see what comes up. ~ Aasif Mandvi

If you want to give yourself a fair chance to succeed, never expect too much too soon ~ Po Bronson

Love can open like a flower out of even the hardest places. ~ Lauren Oliver

Additionally, Liesl and Po is the embodiment of what writing has always been for me at its purest and most basic
not a paycheck, certainly; not an idea, even; and not an escape. Actually, it is the opposite of an escape; it is a way back in, a way to enter and make sense of a world that occasionally seems harsh and terrible and mystifying. (From the "Author's Note" at the end). ~ Lauren Oliver

Here it is
right now. Start thinking about it and you miss it. ~ Huang Po

Katsa sat in the darkness of the Sunderan forest and understood three truths. She loved Po. She wanted Po. And she could never be anyone's but her own. ~ Kristin Cashore

There is another world, other than/ this one we choose to live in. ~ Li Bai