#vale

To call something an 'enhanced interrogation technique' doesn't alter the fact that we thought it was torture when the Japanese used it on American prisoners, we thought it was torture when the North Koreans used it, we thought it was torture when the Soviets used it. You know, it's almost the moral equivalent of saying that rape is an enhanced seduction technique. ↗

— Ted Koppel

#alter #american #call #enhanced #equivalent

I am not religious. I do not believe that personhood is conferred upon conception. But I also do not believe that a human embryo is the moral equivalent of a hangnail and deserves no more respect than an appendix. ↗

— Charles Krauthammer

#am #appendix #believe #conception #conferred

Like those dreaded dinner party words 'Longtime Companion' or "Partner.' Sometimes I just want to scream, 'is she your wife or is she your mistress? Please clarify the nature of your bloody relationship! ↗

— Suzanne Stroh

#nature

I have many valentines. My mom and my sister and my directors. I got calls from all of them. And my friends. I respect what Valentine's Day stands for because it is about love. ↗

— Michelle Trachtenberg

#because #calls #day #directors #friends

If we have been brought up with the idea that life is for suffering and sacrifice, then of course we would seek death to escape this 'vale of tears'. ↗

— Claude Vorilhon

#brought #course #death #escape #idea

Americans have always had an ambivalent attitude toward intelligence. When they feel threatened, they want a lot of it, and when they don't, they regard the whole thing as somewhat immoral. ↗

— Vernon A. Walters

#ambivalent #attitude #feel #had #immoral

The Angel blade burns you, just as God's name chokes you," said Valentine, his cool voice sharp as crystal. "They say that those who die upon its point will achieve the gates of heaven. In which case, revenant, I am doing you a favor." He lowered the blade so that the tip touched Simon's throat. Valentine's eyes were the color of black water and there was nothing in them: no anger, no compassion, not even any hate. They were empty as a hollowed-out grave. "Any last words?" Simon knew what he was supposed to say. Sh'ma Yisrael, adonai elohanu, adonai echod. Hear, oh Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One. He tried to speak the words, but a searing pain burned his throat. "Clary," he whispered instead. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#last-words #simon-lewis #valentine-morgenstern #anger

Divorce is the psychological equivalent of a triple coronary bypass. ↗

— Mary Kay Blakely

#divorce #equivalent #psychological #triple

As Luke knelt down beside his corpse, Clary couldn’t help but remember what he had said about having loved Valentine once, about having been his closest friend. Luke, she thought with a pang. Surely he couldn’t be sad — or even grieved? But then again, perhaps everyone should have someone to grieve for them, and there was no one else to grieve for Valentine. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#city-of-glass #death #grief #luke-garroway #the-mortal-instruments

It was February sixth: eight days until Valentine's Day. I was dateless, as usual, deep in the vice grip of unrequited love. It was bad enough not having a boyfriend for New Year's Eve. Now I had to cope with Valentine datelessness, feeling consummate social pressure from every retailer in America who stuck hearts and cupids in their windows by January second to rub it in. (Thwonk) ↗

— Joan Bauer

#commercialization #humor #self-pity #unrequited-love #valentine-s-day