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Pamela realizes for the first time in her life that she hadn't made the wrong choice at all. Nor had she made the right choice. She had simply made a choice. And somewhere along the way, she had lost the courage to live by it. ↗
Every fairy tale, it seems, concludes with the bland phrase "happily ever after." Yet every couple I have ever known would agree that nothing about marriage is forever happy. There are moments of bliss, to be sure, and lengthy spans of satisfied companionship. Yet these come at no small effort, and the girl who reads such fiction dreaming her troubles will end ere she departs the altar is well advised to seek at once a rational women to set her straight. ↗
Amy: Oh, typical bloke. Straight to fixing his motor. The Doctor: Well, that's the thing, Amy. I am not a typical bloke. Amy: Sorry, did I do something wrong? 'Cause I'm getting kind of mixed signals here! The Doctor: Mixed signals? How? Amy: Oh, come on. You turn up in the middle of the night, get me out of my bed in my nightie, which you then don't let me change out of for ages, and take me for a spin in your time machine? No, no, you're right, no mixed signals there. That is just a signal! Like a great, big Bat-signal in the sky. "Get your coat, love, the Doctor is in." The Doctor: ... No! No! Nonononononono, it's... not like that. That's not what I'm like! Amy: Then what are you like? The Doctor: I dunno, Gandalf. Like a space Gandalf. Or that little green guy in Star Wars... [spins around, making a lightsaber sound effect] Amy: [stifles a chuckle] You really are not. You. Are. A bloke. The Doctor: I'm the Doctor. Amy: Every room you walk into, you laugh at all the men and show off to all the girls. The Doctor: Do not. Amy: What about Rory? [the Doctor snort-laughs, gesturing toward his nose] You laughed! The Doctor: No, that was just an involuntary snort... of... fondness! Amy: You are a bloke and you don't know it. [puts her arms around him] And here I am to help. The Doctor: [pushing her away] That is not why you're here. Amy: Then why am I here? The Doctor: Because! [lowers his voice] Because I can't see it anymore. Amy: See what? The Doctor: I'm 907. After a while... you just can't see it! Amy: See what? The Doctor: Everything! I look at a star and it's just a big ball of burning gas and I know how it began and I know how it ends and I was probably there both times. After a while, everything is just stuff! That's the problem. You make all of space and time your backyard and what do you have? A backyard. But you, you can see it. And when you see it, I see it. Amy: And that's the only reason you took me with you? The Doctor: There are worse reasons. Amy: [snorts] I was certainly hoping so. [pause] Does that mean I'm not the first, then? There've been others travelling with you? The Doctor: [chuckles nervously] Yeah, sure. Loads of 'em, but just friends. You know, chums, pals, mates, buddies--not mates, forget mates. Amy: And out of all those friends, how many would you say, just out of curiosity, were girls? The Doctor: [getting increasingly uncomfortable] Oh... some of them, I suppose. Must have been. Amy: "Some?" The Doctor: It's hard to tell. It's a grey area. Amy: Under half, over half? The Doctor: Probably... slightly... a little bit over? Amy: Hmm. Young? The Doctor: Everyone's young, compared to me. Amy: [chuckles] Hot? The Doctor: No, no no no no no no, none of them. Not really. Not at all. Probably not... [scratches his cheek nervously] ... maybe one or two. I didn't really notice. Amy: Well, this big ol' machine must have some kind of visual records. The Doctor: Oh, god, I mean no--and anyway, they're voice-locked! Amy: [laughs] Oh, voice-locked. So I'd just have to say... "Show me all visual records of previous TARDIS inhabitants?" The Doctor: No, nonono, I mean voice-locked. I would have to say, "Show me all visual records of previous TARDIS inhabitants." Amy: Awww. Thank you. The Doctor: No, no! No! No! [The TARDIS makes some noises as pictures of past female companions flip by on the viewscreen] Amy: Ha-ha! Ooh, Gandalf! The Doctor: [to the TARDIS] Thanks. Thanks, dear. Miss out the metal dog, why don't you? Amy: Is that a leather bikini? [pictures of Leela start to flip by] The Doctor: Right! That's it. Rory. We're going to find Rory, and we're gonna find him now! Amy: He's at his stag night. The Doctor: Well, then. Let's make it a great one. ↗
I live in the Managerial Age, in a world of "Admin." The greatest evil is not now done in those sordid "dens of crime" that Dickens loved to paint. It is not done even in concentration camps and labour camps. In those we see its final result. But it is conceived and ordered (moved, seconded, carried, and minuted) in clean, carpeted, warmed and well-lighted offices, by quiet men with white collars and cut fingernails and smooth-shaven cheeks who do not need to raise their voices. Hence, naturally enough, my symbol for Hell is something like the bureaucracy of a police state or the office of a thoroughly nasty business concern." [From the Preface] ↗
#big-business #bureaucracy #corporations #corporatocracy #dictatorship
Colorful demonstrations and weekend marches are vital but alone are not powerful enough to stop wars. Wars will be stopped only when soldiers refuse to fight, when workers refuse to load weapons onto ships and aircraft, when people boycott the economic outposts of Empire that are strung across the globe. ↗
#anti-war #civil-disobedience #non-violence #social-justice #age
Competition is the final price determinant and competitive prices may result in profits which force you to accept a rate of return less than you hoped for, or for that matter to accept temporary losses. ↗
No True Talent is fully organic. Yet the superior talented have not only control of study but that extra special, little gift at birth--fueled by passion.A built in, totally spiritual, unexplainable, New Age,fuckin cosmic energy bursting love for passion. And yes,they are an even smaller percent amongst the small percent. And they are special! ↗
If I ever have to cast an acting role, I want the wrong person for the part. I can never visualize the right person in a part. The right person for the right part would be too much. Besides, no person is every completely right for any part, because part in a role is never real, so if you can't get someone who's perfectly right, it's more satisfying to get someone who's perfectly wrong. Then you know you've really got something. ↗
