#my

They died. Along with three other men who had joined our group. We were betrayed. The porter had told his girlfriend about the operation. They’d only just met each other. Jens shot her a week later.” Johannes aka ‘BB’ The Informer ↗

— Steen Langstrup

#scandinavian-mysteries #ww #men

Immodest creature, you do not want a woman who will accept your faults, you want the one who pretends you are faultless – one who will caress the hand that strikes her and kiss the lips that lie to her." (Letter, 17 June 1837) ↗

— George Sand

#gender #imperfections #inequality #men #mysogyny

When unlimited and unrestricted by individual rights a government is men's deadliest enemy. ↗

— Ayn Rand

#intellect #men

Men were good for one thing only. Killing spiders. ↗

— Kate Carlisle

#men

I believe in prophetic speech . . . still. I believe in Cassandra, I believe in Electra and in the charming Antigone. . . . For me, they’re more alive than the [Institute for] Intellectual Cooperation and its choice group of old men. ↗

— Gabriella Mistral

#intellectual #men

Alte Männer sind eine rachsüchtige Brut. Sie beneiden junge Männer um ihre Kraft und verübeln jungen Frauen ihre Verführungsmacht. ↗

— Emilia Polo

#götter #men #myth #mythology #mythos

It is better to live on the sea and let other men raise your crops and cook your meals. A house smells of smoke, a ship smells of frolic. From a house you see a sooty roof, from a ship you see Valhalla. ↗

— Harald Halfdanson Viking Tales

#norse-mythology #vikings #men

Idealism, though just in its premises, and often daring and honest in their application, is stultified by the exclusive intellectualism of its own methods: by its fatal trust in the squirrel-work of the industrious brain instead of the piercing vision of the desirous heart. It interests man, but does not involve him in its processes: does not catch him up to the new and more real life which it describes. Hence the thing that matters, the living thing, has somehow escaped it; and its observations bear the same relation to reality as the art of the anatomist does to the mystery of birth. ↗

— Evelyn Underhill

#intellectualism #mysticism #art

Nessa held her arm up. She was staring at it, trying to gauge how big that was. “Dude, that’s as big as my arm. That’s like being f****d by a limb dude!” She wiggled her arm back and forth. “That's not normal. ↗

— Erin Jamison

#funny #girlfriends #humor #men #sex

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. Think rather,--call to thought, if now you grieve a little, The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation-- Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? ↗

— A.E. Housman

#birth #death #emotion #grief #heaven-and-earth