#he

Truths were carved from the identical wood as were lies--words--and so sank or floated with identical ease. But since truths were carved by the World, they rarely appeased Men and their innumerable vanities. Men hhad no taste for facts that did not ornament or enrich, and so they willfully--if not knowingly--panelled their lives with shining and intricate falsehoods. ↗

— R. Scott Bakker

#men

But with all this said, wine was given to gladden the heart of man (Ps. 104:15), and one of the duties a father has is that of teaching his son to drink. ↗

— Douglas Wilson

#men

Auschwitz?! That is a name I had heard before. There is not much time for thinking. It had been raining here not so long ago. The asphalt of the wet, wide platform reflects the light of the high lighting-poles. The row of armed SS men competes in howling with their dogs they hold on leashes ↗

— Azriel Feuerstein

#azriel-feuerstein #holocaust #the-tumbler #men

Ook hij liet een grote stoommachine plaatsen en alles groeide zo overrompelend vlug, dat er echt geen tijd was zich om veiligheid of zelfs een minimum aan hygiëne te bekommeren. In de spinnerijen stonden de vrouwen, meisjes en kinderen in wolken dwarrelend pluk, bijna dagelijks raakten handen vermorzeld bij het 'indraaien' en in werkplaatsen waar men omgeven was van natte dampen, kregen de meeste vrouwen een ziekte die men waterkanker noemde.(...) De vrouwen brachten in de levensgevaarlijke werkplaatsen hun kleinste kinderen van huis mee en lieten ze rondkruipen in vuil, stof en stank. ↗

— Louis Paul Boon

#kinderrechten #sociale-geschiedenis #werkomstandigheden #men

And he said, 'Man is conceived in sin and born in corruption and passeth from the stink of the didie to the stench of the shroud. There is always something. ↗

— Robert Penn Warren

#men

The quest for seizing that amygdala moment, those crushing seconds of unbearable, incapacitating shock, seizing these moments and not letting them go, dragging them out for as long as is operationally necessary, that, said Sid, is the aim of the Bucha effect. ↗

— Jon Ronson

#men

Father was an atheist; he had even joined the Skeleton Army - a club of men who went about in masks or black faces, with ribald placards and a brass band, to make war upon the Salvation Army. ↗

— A.E. Coppard

#atheist #atheists #men

This mark men and women set on pleasure and pain, Prendick, is the mark of the beast upon them, the mark of the beast from which they came. Pain! Pain and pleasure - they are for us, only so long as we wriggle in the dust... ↗

— H.G. Wells

#men

My promise is fulfilled,” he said. “It is,” she coolly replied. “I shall be sorry to lose you as a soldier. I would be inclined to offer you a more agreeable weapon should you like to stay.” “I am well-trained, woman, unlike most of your men,” the giant scoffed. “The weapon in my hand does not matter as much as the skill behind it.” “I cannot disagree.” She smiled at him and handed him a few rations for his impending journey. “That should last you a day if you are careful. I would give you more, but unfortunately cannot spare anything beyond that.” She stood back from him, expecting him to take his leave, but he only stood in his place, looked down at the rations in his hand, and sighed. “If you wish to revisit your home, you are more than welcome to return to it. I shall not attempt to stop you or alert the others, as promised.” The giant gave her a pensive look and remained in his place. She waited for an explanation owing to his dejected looks and immobility, but received none, leading her to believe the matter of his captivity was graver than she had expected. ↗

— Michelle Franklin

#the-haanta-series #home

The men rode into Beaver Run like two horsemen of the apocalypse, justice on a white horse and war on a red. The few citizens walking through the muddy streets hurried to get out of their path, while those milling on the plank walkways stared as the duo passed. Danger. Long and lean, both sat their saddles with the ease of men accustomed to mastering both the beasts beneath them and the world around them. Their dusters hung to the tops of their boots and were covered in trail dust. Their hats, pulled low, cast shadows over their faces. Rifles were mounted to their horses' saddles and each man had a gun strapped to his thigh. ↗

— Suzanne Ferrell

#men