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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #d
And if I say to you that I am glad of everything we have done together, and sorry that we will not be here together in forty years, laughing at a faded photo of you impersonating a lion, it having withered well, you less so, as we stand fabulously old, in a city that understands what spirit it takes to be old, to be beautiful, to be much looked at, to be itself, to be never quite caught, to have a past, to be content, to have seen much, to have remained, to have continued… ↗
ففي المجتمع الاستهلاكي الرأسمالي المتأخر، تكتسب "الحياة الإجتماعية الواقعية" ذاتها على نحو ما سمات زيف مُمسرح، فيه يتصرف جيراننا في الحياة "الواقعية" مثل ممثلي وكومبارس على خشبة المسرح.. مرة أخرى، نجد أن الحقيقة النهائية للعالم الرأسمالي النفعي المنزوع الروح هي نزع مادية "الحياة الواقعية" ذاتها، قلبُها الى عرض شبحي. ↗
Didn't you have any sadistic nannies who told you these tales to keep you quiet and well behaved at night? Heavens, what's to become of the Empire if governesses have lost their touch for scaring the wits out of their girls? ↗
#bedtime-stories #governesses #humor #libba-bray #miss-moore
She walked down the basement steps. She saw an imaginary framed photo seep into the wall - a quiet-smiled secret. No more than a few meters, it was a long walk to the drop sheets and the assortment of paint cans that shielded Max Vandenburg. She removed the sheets closest to the wall until there was a small corridor to look through. The first part of him she saw was his shoulder, and through the slender gap, she slowly, painfully, inched her hand in until it rested there. His clothing was cool. He did not wake. She could feel his breathing and his shoulder moving up and down ever so slightly. For a while, she watched him. Then she sat and leaned back. Sleepy air seemed to have followed her. The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs. ↗
I did want adventure. I didn’t want to prescribe Ritalin to ADHD kids and tell fat old men to get more exercise. I wanted to go to the heart of Africa. Cradling villages of starving, disease-ridden children. Reserving no luxuries for myself. We would share everything: “Here. This syringe is dirty. Careful.” Engaging the deadliest disease of all. The AIDS virus. The beauty of it’s DNA sequence, to be so extraordinarily complex without sacrificing elegance. The mystery. The danger. The romance as it waltzes with my white blood cells inside me. “Give it to me. Inject it,” I’d say. To be destroyed so efficiently. But I settled for less. ↗
