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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #ape
The use of drugs is not an effective means of facilitating real escape. It merely gives that erroneous and illusive impression. Well, illusive with an I and elusive with an E. At best, narcotics do no more than promote bonhomie and give you a temporary taste of what freedom might be like; and drugs take you into another sub-level of, or sub-culture in, the same old game. The same old game, but with additional consequences. And at worst, well ... suffice it to say that you really, really do not want to go there. ↗
The attention for bad literature is symptomatic: they pretends its the most normal thing in the world to fill an entire newspaper page with talk about a bad book, and good books are silenced to death. This mechanism is exactly the same formula as used in the Eurovision Songfestival: to present monoculture, and the proverbial hatred for that monoculture is only ritualistic, intended to give the reader the impression that the newspaper is on their side. Its the formula of entertainment: present things the reader can feel superior to. ↗
Imperfection is the doorway for which perfection may step through...perfection must be enforced, it must be soldered into the eyes of the blind, it must be severed methodically and sewn into the very warmth that keeps at bay the cold of the night. Imperfection is the fire that sets alight the dark passage through which perfection wanders...and we must embrace it all, we must have purpose to survive. ↗
#death #dread #forgiveness #goal #greed
I remembered during puberty, through the anorexic mists of intermittent menstrual cycles, that man, my father, lifting Shirley's nightdress over her head and asking her in his mocking way to choose what colour condom she wanted. 'Red or yellow?' Which did she choose? I can't remember. Perhaps she alternated. Perhaps there were other colours. It didn't happen once. It happened again and again. I had no power to stop it. That man, my father, had some control over me. I was drugged by the black silence in that big house, the vile whiff of aftershave, the crushing torment of inevitability. My father fucked Shirley using red or yellow condoms and it was those condoms that brought it all to an end. It was my last realization of the day; any more would have been too much to contemplate. That time when my mother had found used condoms in bedroom, he had admitted, after a pointless burst my father's of denial, that he had been going to prostitutes. That was no doubt true but I can't imagine clients take used condoms away with them; prostitutes would surely get rid of the things. No. My father kept those used condoms as a prize. He was fucking his fourteen-year-old-daughter. He was proud of it. Rebecca welled up with tears. Poor thing, she kept saying. Poor thing. ↗
#child-abuse #child-rape #child-sexual-abuse #condoms #dissociation
There are enough hours in a day to know that you are truly loved." ~R. Alan Woods [2013] ↗
#love #r-alan-woods #timeless #love
It was unsettling, Laurel thought, suppressing a shiver, how quickly a person's presence could be erased, how easily civilization gave way to wilderness. ↗
I used to think the most important thing for a reporter was to be where the news is and be the first to know. Now I feel a reporter should be able to effect change. Your reporting should move people and motivate people to change the world. Maybe this is too idealistic. Young people who want to be journalists must, first, study and, second, recognize that they should never be the heroes of the story. ..A journalist must be curious, and must be humble. --Zhou Yijun ↗
Sometimes, when one is moving silently through such an utterly desolate landscape, an overwhelming hallucination can make one feel that oneself, as an individual human being, is slowly being unraveled. The surrounding space is so vast that it becomes increasingly difficult to keep a balanced grip on one's own being. The mind swells out to fill the entire landscape, becoming so diffuse in the process that one loses the ability to keep it fastened to the physical self. The sun would rise from the eastern horizon, and cut it's way across the empty sky, and sink below the western horizon. This was the only perceptible change in our surroundings. And in the movement of the sun, I felt something I hardly know how to name: some huge, cosmic love. ↗
