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The veil deliberately marks women as private and restricted property, nonpersons. The veil sets women apart from men and apart from the world; it restrains them, confines them, grooms them for docility. A mind can be cramped just as a body may be, and a Muslim veil blinkers both your vision and your destiny. It is the mark of a kind of apartheid, not the domination of a race but of a sex. ↗
We best defend the Lord's glory by speaking first TO Him about unbelieving men rather than speaking first ABOUT Him to unbelieving men. ↗
We thank Thee Lord For each hour of each day, For each minute spent at play, For the seed You helped us sow, For the blessed things that grow- We Thank Thee, Lord. For the roses wild that run, For the trees that shade the sun, For the rainbows brilliant blend, For the showers that You send- We Thank Thee, Lord. For the men who raise the wheat, For the bread we get to eat- For the cattle that we need, For the pastures where they feed- We Thank Thee, Lord. For our humble, small abode, For the blessings You bestowed, For the roof that shields the storm, For the walls that keep us warm, We Thank Thee, Lord. ↗
THE POLITICIAN If it wasn't for graft, you'd get a very low type of people in politics. Men without ambition. Jellyfish! CATHERINE Especially since you can't rob the people anyway. THE POLITICIAN Sure...How was that? CATHERINE What you rob, you spend. And what you spend goes back to the people. So where's the robbery? I read that in one of my father's books. THE POLITICIAN That book should be in every home! ↗
Two glittering eyes peered at the three young men and the catawyld clicked the back of its tongue in warning. “I hate these things,” Bracy growled ↗
If you are a girl, I don't think you should necessarily become a lesbian, although if the idea appeals to you, I wouldn't say anything against it. I wouldn't try to stop you. Men can be obstinate and difficult to live with. Unlike myself, a perfectly reasonable woman unless shown a bag in which I am to place my vomit. IF you are a boy, I apologize. ↗
I’m not this unusual,” she said. “It’s just my hair.” She looked at Bobby and she looked at me, with an expression at once disdainful and imploring. She was forty, pregnant, and in love with two men at once. I think what she could not abide was the zaniness of her life. Like many of us, she had grown up expecting romance to bestow dignity and direction. “Be brave,” I told her. Bobby and I stood before her, confused and homeless and lacking a plan, beset by an aching but chaotic love that refused to focus in the conventional way. Traffic roared behind us. A truck honked its hydraulic horn, a monstrous, oceanic sound. Clare shook her head, not in denial but in exasperation. Because she could think of nothing else to do, she began walking again, more slowly, toward the row of trees. ↗
