#hens

It is deeply shocking and incomprehensible to me that despite volumes of documentation and living witnesses who can attest to the horrors of the Holocaust, there are still those who would deny it. ↗

— Mark Udall

#deeply #deny #despite #documentation #holocaust

To help producers serve larger institutional customers like schools and hospitals, USDA has helped fund new regional infrastructure like cold storage warehouses, commercial kitchens and local slaughter facilities. ↗

— Tom Vilsack

#commercial #customers #facilities #fund #help

This is Port of Spain to me, a city ideal in its commercial and human proportions, where a citizen is a walker and not a pedestrian, and this is how Athens may have been before it became a cultural echo. ↗

— Derek Walcott

#became #been #before #citizen #city

In my solitude I have pondered much on the incomprehensible subjects of space, eternity, life and death. ↗

— Alfred Russel Wallace

#eternity #i #incomprehensible #life #life and death

Human life is driven forward by its dim apprehension of notions too general for its existing language. ↗

— Alfred North Whitehead

#dim #driven #existing #forward #general

A comprehensive national energy policy is critical to our nation's economy and our national security. Energy expenditures account for about 7% percent of our total economy and influence pricing in the much of the rest of the economy. ↗

— Heather Wilson

#account #comprehensive #critical #economy #energy

The function of Theology? The recitation of the incomprehensible by the unspeakable to pick the pockets of the unthinking. ↗

— Robert Anton Wilson

#incomprehensible #pick #pockets #recitation #theology

I live alone, with cats, books, pictures, fresh vegetables to cook, the garden, the hens to feed. ↗

— Jeanette Winterson

#alone #books #cats #cook #feed

I want to see the Parthenon by moonlight.' I had my way. They floodlight it now, to great advantage I am told, but it was not so then, and since it was late in the year there were few tourists. My companions were all intelligent men, including my own husband, and they had the sense to stay mute. I suppose, being a woman, I confuse beauty with sentiment, but, as I looked on the Parthenon for the first time in my life, I found myself crying. It had never happened to me before. Your sunset weepers I despise. It was not full moon, or anywhere near it. The half circle put me in mind of the labrys, the Cretan double axe, and the pillars were the most ghostly in consequence. What a shock for the modern aesthete, I thought when my crying was done, if he could see the ruddy glow of colour, the painted eyes, the garish lips, the orange-reds and blues that were there once, and Athene herself a giantess on her pedestal touched by the rising sun. Even in those distant times the exigencies of a state religion had brought their own traffic, the buying and selling of doves, of trinkets: to find himself, a man had to go to the woods, to the hills. "Come on," said Stephen. "It's beautiful and stark, if you like, but so is St. Pancras station at 4 A.M. It depends on your association of ideas." We crammed into Burns's small car, and went back to our hotel. ("The Chamois") ↗

— Daphne du Maurier

#greece #parthenon #beauty

Without anything being said, there were no women at our lunches. Not that we were talking pussy. Or not much. But it was a chaps thing. Seasoned observers all, we set the world, such as it was, to rights, offsetting our intellectual know-how with truly wondrous flights of fancy. It was at the time of the ruinous yet avoidable civil war in Angola, in which far too many people died, or, in our immortal parlance, became 'deadified.' It might have been anyone—actually, I [Christopher Hitchens] am sure it was our poet friend Craig Raine—who came up with the appalling yet unforgettable idea that there is a design flaw in the female form, and that the breasts and the buttocks really ought to be on the same side. For myself, I have oft been perplexed as to why our heads are where, in a truly just world, our penises really ought to be, and my arse is not located between my chin and my nose, allowing me mellifluously to talk out of it. ↗

— Craig Brown

#design