Reed Bed Technology Quotes

Ragon knelt in a bed of trampled reed grass and scanned the tracks ~ Christopher Paolini

One-third to one-half of humanity are said to go to bed hungry every night. In the Old Stone Age the fraction must have been much smaller. This is the era of hunger unprecedented. Now, in the time of the greatest technical power, is starvation an institution. Reverse another venerable formula: the amount of hunger increases relatively and absolutely with the evolution of culture. ~ Marshall Sahlins

Imperialistic war is a rebellion of technology which collects, in the form of "human material," the claims to which society has denied its natural material. Instead of draining rivers, society directs a human stream into a bed of trenches; instead of dropping seeds from airplanes, it drops incendiary bombs over cities; and through gas warfare the aura is abolished in a new way. ~ Walter Benjamin

A survey of high-earning professionals in the corporate world found that 62 percent work more than fifty hours a week and 10 percent work more than eighty hours per week.18 Technology, while liberating us at times from the physical office, has also extended the workday. A 2012 survey of employed adults showed that 80 percent of the respondents continued to work after leaving the office, 38 percent checked e-mail at the dinner table, and 69 percent can't go to bed without checking their in-box.19 ~ Sheryl Sandberg

Flute Notes from a Reedy Pond
Now coldness comes sifting down, layer after layer,
To our bower at the lily root.
Overhead the old umbrellas of summer Wither like pithless hands.
There is little shelter.
Hourly the eye of the sky enlarges its blank
Dominion. The stars are no nearer. Already frog-mouth and fish-mouth drink The liquor of indolence, and all thing sink Into a soft caul of forgetfulness. The fugitive colors die. Caddis worms drowse in their silk cases,
The lamp-headed nymphs are nodding to sleep like statues.
Puppets, loosed from the strings of the puppetmaster
Wear masks of horn to bed. This is not death, it is something safer. The wingy myths won't tug at us anymore: The molts are tongueless that sang from above the water Of golgotha at the tip of a reed,
And how a god flimsy as a baby's finger
Shall unhusk himself and steer into the air. ~ Sylvia Plath

Of course, even before Flaubert, people knew stupidity existed, but they understood it somewhat differently: it was considered a simple absence of knowledge, a defect correctable by education. In Flaubert's novels, stupidity is an inseparable dimension of human existence. It accompanies poor Emma throughout her days, to her bed of love and to her deathbed, over which two deadly agélastes, Homais and Bournisien, go on endlessly trading their inanities like a kind of funeral oration. But the most shocking, the most scandalous thing about Flaubert's vision of stupidity is this: Stupidity does not give way to science, technology, modernity, progress; on the contrary, it progresses right along with progress! ~ Milan Kundera

A great physicist taught at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He published many important books and papers. Often he had an idea in the middle of the night. He rose from his bed, took a shower, washed his hair, and shaved. He dressed completely, in a clean shirt, in polished shoes, a jacket and tie. Then he sat at his desk and wrote down his idea. A friend of mine asked him why he put himself through all that rigmarole. 'Why,' he said, surprised at the question, 'in honor of physics! ~ Annie Dillard

Raucous quacking sounded in Firestar's ear. He jumped up, staring around wildly until he spotted a duck in the water beside the reed bed. ~ Erin Hunter

Myrtle


How funny your name would be
if you could follow it back to where
the first person thought of saying it,
naming himself that, or maybe
some other persons thought of it
and named that person. It would
be like following a river to its source,
which would be impossible. Rivers have no source.
They just automatically appear at a place
where they get wider, and soon a real
river comes along, with fish and debris,
regal as you please, and someone
has already given it a name: St. Benno
(saints are popular for this purpose) or, or
some other name, the name of his
long-lost girlfriend, who comes
at long last to impersonate that river,
on a stage, her voice clanking
like its bed, her clothing of sand
and pasted paper, a piece of real technology,
while all along she is thinking, I can
do what I want to do. But I want to stay here. ~ John Ashbery

People went to bed when the sun went down and they woke up when the sun came up. That's what our bodies are naturally programmed to do. However, with all the new stresses in life with electricity, with technology, we tend to override that system and we'll stay up later and we'll get up earlier or later, and we use alarm clocks, we use the light. ~ Shelby Harris

If Reed wasn't planning on meeting me at the beach, I'd be rolling around naked in this bed with you in a heartbeat. I love surfing, but - " his gaze wandered over the thin sheet covering her body before he met her eyes again " - no wave could ever compete with you. ~ Lisa Kessler

I kiss him deeply, desperately, as I paw at his clothes, and he tolerates it for a moment. Just a moment. Long enough for me to unbutton his shirt. In a blink, his hand snatches ahold of my wrists, pinning them together, pinning them down to the bed above my head. Pulling back some, he looks me in the eyes.
He says nothing.
He just stares.
Studying me again.
It's almost a minute, as I count the torturous seconds in my head. It should been awkward, but it isn't. It's erotic. His gaze penetrates me, effectively fucking my soul. ~ J.M. Darhower

I am very grateful to God everyday that my eyes flutter open and I can jump out of that bed! ~ Jerry Reed

It's not often for me that reality is better than fantasy. This is one of those times. Reed next to me, in my bed, breathing against my chest. She was the Diane Court to my Lloyed Dobler. ~ Lila Felix

Because of this false idea, they devised an aesthetic belief in making the exterior of an object a reflection of the practical functions of the interior and of the constructive idea. Yet these analyses of utility and necessity that, according to their beliefs, should be the basis for the construction of any object created by humanity become immediately absurd once we analyze all the object being manufactured today. A fork or a bed cannot come to be considered necessary for humanity's life and health, and yet retain a relative value.
They are 'learned necessities.' Modern human beings are suffocating under necessities like televisions, refrigerators, etc. And in the process making it impossible to live their real lives. Obviously we are not against modern technology, but we are against any notion of the absolute necessity of objects, to the point even of doubting their real utility.'
Asger Jorn ~ Tom McDonough

I have Black guys who tell me they put my books on their bed stands to read at night like something for guidance or information. That really pleases me a lot. I think my work has changed some things. It's changed me. ~ Ishmael Reed

Content and technology are strange bed fellows. We are joined together. Sometimes we misunderstand each other. But isn't that after all the definition of marriage? ~ Howard Stringer

Reed couldn't have agreed more with his wolf. Tonight the three of them would spend the night in the same house. He just hoped they were together in the same bed when they did it. Preferably naked and sweaty with lots of intimate touching. ~ Carrie Ann Ryan

Marriage, in what is evidently its most popular version, is now on the one hand an intimate 'relationship' involving (ideally) two successful careerists in the same bed, and on the other hand a sort of private political system in which rights and interests must be constantly asserted and defended. Marriage, in other words, has now taken the form of divorce: a prolonged and impassioned negotiation as to how things shall be divided. During their understandably temporary association, the 'married' couple will typically consume a large quantity of merchandise and a large portion of each other.

The modern household is the place where the consumptive couple do their consuming. Nothing productive is done there. Such work as is done there is done at the expense of the resident couple or family, and to the profit of suppliers of energy and household technology. For entertainment, the inmates consume television or purchase other consumable diversion elsewhere.

There are, however, still some married couples who understand themselves as belonging to their marriage, to each other, and to their children. What they have they have in common, and so, to them, helping each other does not seem merely to damage their ability to compete against each other. To them, 'mine' is not so powerful or necessary a pronoun as 'ours.'

This sort of marriage usually has at its heart a household that is to some extent productive. The couple, that is, makes around itself a house ~ Wendell Berry

It's not about putting a speaker in a chair or putting a TV in a bed. That's not how technology and the home intersect. For me, it's about sensors, about the home knowing where you are. ~ Yves Behar

For me, I've never drawn a distinction between live-action acting and performance-capture acting. It is purely a technology. ~ Andy Serkis

Hee that goes to bed thirsty riseth healthy. ~ George Herbert

It's perilous and foolhardy for the average citizen to remain ignorant about global warming, say, or ozone depletion, air pollution, toxic and radioactive wastes, acid rain, topsoil erosion, tropical deforestation, exponential population growth. Jobs and wages depend on science and technology. ~ Carl Sagan

Slippers was asleep on the bed, curled up and blissfully oblivious to her suffering as cats usually were. ~ Amy Hutchinson

The latter think the shortest distance between two points is from a blonde to a bed. ~ Raymond Chandler

She laid a row of cushions down the center of the bed, carefully dividing it into two sides ...
I dinna know how this strategy escaped Napoleon's notice. If only he'd erect a barricade of feathers and fabric, we Highlanders wouldna have known how to get over it. ~ Tessa Dare

She lowers herself to the bed and releases a pained sigh that is both relief and agony. I know this because I feel it, too, as I rock in and out of her tight pussy with the realization that I don't want the torment to end. I want to stay inside of her, with her warm, silky body around my dick and her soft whisper droning inside my head, telling me how good it feels. ~ Keri Lake

Then you can eat in bed.I'll make you a plate and-"
"And the day I eat in bed I better be dying.Food leaves crumbs.That brings bugs and I happen to hate sharing my bed with anyone. ~ Michele Sinclair

In a musically imperfect world, there is still perfection in the voice of Barbara Cook. For anyone eulogizing the historic scores of a long-lost era of Broadway greatness, not to worry. Somebody is still singing them with purity and passion. She is Barbara Cook, and she sings them for the angels to applaud. ~ Rex Reed

Please don't set me free Death means a lot me ~ Lou Reed

To this day, I am embarrassed to admit that I still deeply struggle with get-yo-ass-up syndrome. At least back then, my dad was still down to be my human alarm clock. When all other tactics failed to get the job done- tickling me, pulling the covers off of my virtually comatose body, shouting- my dad made up a wake-up song that he sang to me nearly every morning for sixteen years: "Lainey Flainey, give me your answer true. I'm half crazy over the likes of you." He'd saunter into my room and sit on the edge of my bed, tap, tap, tapping my tiny body to the beat until I finally woke up. Looking back, it was the most loving, patient act of parenting in the universe. Of course, at the time, it was simply annoying as hell. "And we're off like a herd of turtles!" he'd say. Every. Single. Day. ~ Elaine Welteroth

I don't know how late it got.
I probably fell asleep, but I don't remember. I cried so much that everything blurred into everything else. At some point she was carrying me to my room. Then I was in bed. She was looking over me. I don't believe in God, but I believe that things are extremely complicated, and her looking over me was as complicated as anything ever could be. But it was also incredibly simple. In my only life, she was my mom, and I was her son. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

I think that while kids are in college they don't think that fitness and nutrition are really important things. But once they get to the NFL it's a job, and just like any other job you've got to be at your best to a certain point, especially with a job like this. You've got to be fit and you've got to eat the right things. ~ Andre Reed

onto his cock and smiling as if he just got into bed with David Gandy, which wasn't that far from the truth. Domenico knew his own worth. ~ K.A. Merikan

My son complains about headaches. I tell him all the time, when you get out of bed, it's feet first! ~ Henny Youngman

She couldn't tell exactly where the words came from. What mattered was that they reached her. They arrived and kneeled next to her bed. ~ Markus Zusak

She wrapped her arms around his head and hugged him to her abdomen. "Why are you so nice to me?"
His chuckle was muffled against her belly. "I have ulterior motives."
"Such as?"
"Making you mine." Shit. Why had he said that? He was showing his cards much too soon.
She slapped his shoulder. "Don't say it if you don't mean it." He wished he could say he didn't mean it. He didn't particularly want to be so far gone. Ah, what the fuck - he liked her. A lot. She was just going to have to learn to live with it. If he could admit it, surely she could accept it.
"I mean it, Toni." He untangled his head from her grasp so he could look up at her. "I really do like you. And it isn't just lust." For once in his dick-led life. "I can't stop thinking about you. Even when you're not in my bed, you're in my head. It's driving me crazy. I'm not sure how to handle it."
She smiled, and he saw her feelings displayed clearly in her eyes. "You're going to break my heart someday." She released a sigh and stared over his head as she spoke. "I really like you too, Logan. But maybe it's best if we pretend the only thing between us is lust. If I fall for you . . ." She shook her head and closed her eyes.
"You don't trust me with your heart."
"Should I?"
He wanted to say she should, wanted to say that he'd never hurt her, but he, more than anyone, was aware of his track record with women.
"That's something you'll have to decide on your own. ~ Olivia Cunning