#even

No one messes around with a nerd’s computer and escapes unscathed. ↗

— E.A. Bucchianeri

#computer-hackers #computers #funny #geek #geek-humor

It turns out that one can perpetrate all manner of heinous villainy under a cloak of courtesy and good cheer. . .a man will forfeit all sensible self-interest if he finds you affable enough to share your company over a flagon of ale. ↗

— Christopher Moore

#humor #humor

I like all my children, even the squat and ugly ones. ↗

— Howard Nemerov

#even #i #like #ones #squat

Revenge is a dish best served published! ↗

— Lisa Kovanda

#revenge #writing #humor

Eventually there are going to be cities in space. ↗

— Alan Bean

#eventually #going #space

History has spurts and then is steady, and then maybe even backing up a step, and then forward again. ↗

— Alan Bean

#backing #even #forward #history #maybe

Mealtime "A mousie squealing in a trap Woke me from my morning nap. Wasn't he so very sweet To tell me it was time to eat?" (From A CAT'S GARDEN OF VERSES) ↗

— Henry N. Beard

#humor #robert-louis-stevenson #humor

For the longest time I studied revenge to the exclusion of all else. I built my first torture chamber in the dark vaults of imagination. Lying on bloody sheets in the Healing Hall I discovered doors within my mind that I’d not found before, doors that even a child of nine knows should not be opened. Doors that never close again. I threw them wide. ↗

— Mark Lawrence

#imagination

Man doeth this and doeth that from the good or evil of his heart; but he knows not to what end his sense doth prompt him; for when he strikes he is blind to where the blow shall fall, nor can he count the airy threads that weave the web of circumstance. Good and evil, love and hate, night and day, sweet and bitter, man and woman, heaven above and the earth beneath--all those things are needful, one to the other, and who knows the end of each? ↗

— H. Rider Haggard

#cause-and-effect #chain-of-events #chance #change #choice

The park is high. And as out of a house I step out of its glimmering half-light into openness and evening. Into the wind, the same wind that the clouds feel, the bright rivers and the turning mills that stand slowly grinding at the sky's edge. Now I too am a thing held in its hand, the smallest thing under the sky. --Look: Is that one sky?: Blissfully lucid blue, into which ever purer clouds throng, and under it all white in endless changes, and over it that huge, thin-spun gray, pulsing warmly as on red underpaint, and over everything this silent radiance of a setting sun. Miraculous structure, moved within itself and upheld by itself, shaping figures, giant wings, faults and high mountain ridges before the first star and suddenly, there: a gate into such distances as perhaps only birds know... ↗

— Rainer Maria Rilke

#change