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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #tori
Hunter-gathers, by nature, store information for use, understanding that there may be a time when information is scarce. ↗
By nature, it's impossible to describe enlightenment! How do you plan on sharing your enlightenment? Hahaha, that's impossible. Wake up! That'll be the end of the world if you ever succeed! ↗
Though his countenance was solemn, there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Major MacKinnon, won't you join us?" "But, my lord, he is clad in outlawed rebel attire. The Dress Act expressly forbids--" "I am not blind, Colonel, and I am familiar with our laws." Sarah fought back a smile. Colonel Haviland lowered his voice, leaned toward Uncle William. "He was invited to pay respects to your niece, my lord, and he has the gall to--" "I _am_ payin' my respects to the lass!" Connor's deep voice filled the room, cutting Colonel Haviland off altogether. ↗
Some people remember the sixties better than others do. Some weren't even there, some who were there were not really there, and some who were not really there were "really there". ↗
Reading. The erotics of reading for me -- its moment of trembling pleasure -- lie in those times when I realise that what I am reading is just what I was about to say. It is a moment of jealousy and disappointment, as if the occasion had been stolen from me, but it is a moment of excitement, too -- because I think I would like to try and say it better, because now the monologue in my mind has become dialogue. My immediate impulse is to write something, anything, notes to tell me the significance of what I have read, an appreciative letter to the author, the first sentences in a preface to a book that will never be written. Th archives of my readings are monumentally high. I can never let these erotic moments go. They are the paper trail of my mind. ↗
Do stories, apart from happening, being, have something to say? For all my skepticism, some trace of irrational superstition did survive in me, the strange conviction, for example, that everything in life that happens to me also has a sense, that it means something, that life speaks to us about itself through its story, that it gradually reveals a secret, that it takes the form of a rebus whose message must be deciphered, that the stories we live compromise the mythology of our lives and in that mythology lies the key to truth and mystery. Is it an illusion? Possibly, even probably, but I can’t rid myself of the need continually to decipher my own life. ↗
But just then, for that fraction of time, it seems as though all things are possible. You can look across the limitations of your own life, and see that they are really nothing. In that moment when time stops, it is as though you know you could undertake any venture, complete it and come back to yourself, to find the world unchanged, and everything just as you left it a moment before. And it's as though knowing that everything is possible, suddenly nothing is necessary. ↗
