#lands

One day, out of irritation, I said, you know all of those years with the Royal Shakespeare Company, all those years of playing kings and princes and speaking black verse, and bestriding the landscape of England was nothing but a preparation for sitting in the captain's chair of the Enterprise. ↗

— Patrick Stewart

#captain #chair #company #day #england

It was wrong to allow Stalin to shape the European landscape of the 20th century. It would be even more wrong to let him shape the landscape of the 21st century. ↗

— Lawrence Summers

#21st century #allow #century #european #even

Cows, after leaving the low lands near the coast, are found to be plentiful everywhere, and to produce milk in small quantities, from which butter is made. ↗

— John H. Speke

#butter #coast #cows #everywhere #found

When the question arose whether I, as a member of the royal family, should take part in active combat in the Falklands, there was no question in her mind, and it only took her two days to sort the issue. ↗

— Prince Andrew

#active #arose #combat #days #falklands

The landscape you grow up in speaks to you in a way that nowhere else does. ↗

— Molly Parker

#else #grow #grow up #landscape #nowhere

When a beautiful blonde asks, you don't say no. ↗

— V.T. Davy

#channel #crime #detective #hard-boiled #islands

You don’t rewrite it, censor it, or edit it, to suit some warped view you have of the past and your own present. ↗

— V.T. Davy

#censor #channel #crime #detective #edit

Comely was the town by the curving river that they dismantled in a year's time. Beautiful was Colleton in her last spring as she flung azaleas like a girl throwing rice at a desperate wedding. In dazzling profusion, Colleton ripened in a gauze of sweet gardens and the town ached beneath a canopy of promissory fragrance. ↗

— Pat Conroy

#nostalgia #small-town #south-carolina #spring #beauty

 Sora, don't ever change. ↗

— Tetsuya Nomura

#kairi #kingdom-hearts #sora #change

As usual, Junko thought about Jack London's 'To Build a Fire.' It was the story of a man traveling alone through the snowy Alaskan interior and his attempts to light a fire. He would freeze to death unless he could make it catch. The sun was going down. Junko hadn't read much fiction, but that one short story she had read again and again, ever since her teacher had assigned it as an essay topic during summer vacation of her first year in high school. The scene of the story would always come vividly to mind as she read. She could feel the man's fear and hope and despair as if they were her own; she could sense the very pounding of his heart as he hovered on the brink of death. Most important of all, though, was the fact that the man was fundamentally longing for death. She knew that for sure. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she knew it from the start. Death was really what he wanted. He knew that it was the right ending for him. And yet he had to go on fighting with all his might. He had to fight against an overwhelming adversary in order to survive. What most shook Junko was this deep-rooted contradiction. The teacher ridiculed her view. 'Death is really what he wanted? That's a new one for me! And strange! Quite 'original,' I'd have to say.' He read her conclusion aloud before the class, and everybody laughed. But Junko knew. All of them were wrong. Otherwise how could the ending of the story be so quiet and beautiful? ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#jack-london #landscape-with-flatiron #beauty