#it

Why would the US try to win a war? War is an assembly line of death that is highly profitable for politicians and weapons manufacturers. An ongoing war is a conveyer belt of cash. Once your war is won, the assembly line has stopped and the big money is gone. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#conspiracy #politicians #war #death

Everybody is waiting for cooler weather--and I am just waiting for you--. (Bob Dylan in a letter) ↗

— Suze Rotolo

#waiting #letters

In a sense, the better you adapt to school the less your chances are of later adapting to the actual world. So I figure, the worse you adapt to school, the better you will be able to handle reality when you finally manage to get loose at last from school, if that ever happens. But I guess I have what in the military they call a 'poor attitude,' which means 'shape up or ship out.' I always elected to ship out. ↗

— Philip K. Dick

#attitude

The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese. ↗

— Willie Nelson

#birds #cheese #competition #mice #timing

Corrupt politicians make the other ten percent look bad. ↗

— Henry Kissinger

#politicians

I could have sworn that the man's eyes were no longer watching his daughter dying in agony, that instead the gorgeous colors of flames and the sight of a woman suffering in them were giving him joy beyond measure. ↗

— Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

#japan #japanese #japanese-literature #japan

It's for all the women who embrace my aesthetic, but can't afford a Vera Wang dress. If women can get anything out of it - a little bit of me or a lot of me, that's what's important. ↗

— Vera Wang

#afford #anything #bit #dress #embrace

Misfortunes make us wise ↗

— Mary Norton

#curiosity #intellectual #wisdom #curiosity

I'm competitive with myself. I always try to push past my own borders. ↗

— Tyra Banks

#borders #competitive #i #i always #my own

One thing I knew about the novelist’s task: when in doubt, write; when empty, write; when afraid, write. Nothing is more impenetrable than the blank page. The blank page is the void, the absence of sense and feeling, the white light of literary death. ↗

— Philip Sington

#death