#ace

People truly reaching across boundaries - be they religious or race, political or geographic. A state that is sincerely civil and respectful of each individual's pathway toward life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness will be our goal. ↗

— Jon Huntsman, Jr.

#boundaries #civil #each #geographic #goal

Thus the races, though alike in their physical response to climate, may possibly be different in their mental response because they have approached America by different paths. ↗

— Ellsworth Huntington

#america #approached #be different #because #climate

This is the marketplace of political ideas. This is how America operates. It's a free market. It's free-wheeling. From the outside, it looks unpredictable. There's a circus-like free market. ↗

— Jon Huntsman, Jr.

#free #free market #how #ideas #looks

Firstly I did it in this huge theatre in Avignon, then to smaller places, then bigger places. You have to change the volume of the voice, give more or less. The way you have to relate to space makes it like sculpture. ↗

— Isabelle Huppert

#change #did #firstly #give #huge

Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race. ↗

— H. G. Wells

#bicycle #despair #every #every time #future

That we are not much sicker and much madder than we are is due exclusively to that most blessed and blessing of all natural graces, sleep. ↗

— Aldous Huxley

#blessing #due #exclusively #graces #madder

Washington is an endless series of mock palaces clearly built for clerks. ↗

— Ada Louise Huxtable

#clearly #clerks #endless #endless series #mock

Visionary people face the same problems everyone else faces; but rather than get paralyzed by their problems, visionaries immediately commit themselves to finding a solution. ↗

— Bill Hybels

#else #everyone #face #faces #finding

Every crag and gnarled tree and lonely valley has its own strange and graceful legend attached to it. ↗

— Douglas Hyde

#every #graceful #legend #lonely #own

I looked out over no-man's land where Charlie had died. They lay as if they'd been heaped against the wire by the wind, and Charlie, I knew, was one of them. I wondered what I would write to Molly and Mother. I could hear Mother's voice in my head, hear her telling Big Joe how Charlie would not be coming back, how he had gone to Heaven to be with Father and Bertha. Big Joe would be sad. He would hum Oranges and Lemons mournfully up his tree. But after a few days his faith would comfort him. He would believe absolutely that Charlie was up there in the blue of Heaven, high above the church tower somewhere. I envied him that. I could no longer even pretend to myself that I believed in a merciful god, nor in a heaven, not anymore, not after I had seen what men could do to one another. I could believe only in the hell I was living in, a hell on earth, and it was man-made, not God-made. ↗

— Michael Morpurgo

#faith