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Silence cleared her throat, fearful her voice would come out a croak. “Is she asleep?” He blinked as if he, too, were waking from a dream, and glanced down at Mary Darling. “Aye, I’m a-thinkin’ she is—she’s stopped fussin’ at me.” Silence felt a huge smile of relief spread over her face. “She was fussing? Oh, how wonderful!” He shot her a look, one eyebrow arching. “Ye’ve taught the child to bully me, too, now?” “Oh, no,” she said hastily, embarrassed. Did he really think she bullied him? What a silly notion! ↗
...all these things were part of the business of dreams. He had learned not to laugh at the advertisements offering to teach writing, cartooning, engineering, to add inches to the biceps and to develop the bust ↗
#capitalism #commercialization #conformity #disillusionment #self-perception
Champions are made and not born. Champion’s feat are acquired and not inherited, earned and not transferred, attained and not deposited ↗
#create-vision #destiny #develop-talents #discover-potentials #dreams
Failure is not fatal nor that you are finished but the result of unfinished product waiting to be reproduced, reprocessed and polished. Failure is that you have learned your omissions, mistakes or what you did not do right or well at the last attempt. You can transform failure into a fortune by dealing with what went wrong. Failure is only a product of uncorrected mistakes. ↗
#create-vision #destiny #develop-talents #discover-potentials #dreams
Silence. It flashed from the woodwork and the walls; it smote him with an awful, total power, as if generated by a vast mill. It rose from the floor, up out of the tattered gray wall-to-wall carpeting. It unleashed itself from the broken and semi-broken appliances in the kitchen, the dead machines which hadn’t worked in all the time Isidore had lived here. From the useless pole lamp in the living room it oozed out, meshing with the empty and wordless descent of itself from the fly-specked ceiling. It managed in fact to emerge from every object within his range of vision, as if it—the silence—meant to supplant all things tangible. Hence it assailed not only his ears but his eyes; as he stood by the inert TV set he experienced the silence as visible and, in its own way, alive. Alive! He had often felt its austere approach before; when it came it burst in without subtlety, evidently unable to wait. The silence of the world could not rein back its greed. Not any longer. Not when it had virtually won. ↗
You said I was pretty, before." "Did I?" A new laugh escaped him, mirthless. "How unoriginal. I must be the master of understatement. I think you're goddamned radiant, and you know it. Sometimes I think if I look at you too long I'll go blind, like a lunatic staring straight into the sun. No," he said in a savage undertone, and let the gown fall back to the floor. "You're not pretty. ↗
