A winded, defeated-looking fat woman in filthy coveralls trudged beside us, hearing what Miss Pefko said. She turned to examine Dr. Breed, looking at him with helpless reproach. She hated people who thought too much. At that moment, she struck me as an appropriate representative for almost all mankind.
The world, my friend Govinda, is not imperfect, or on a slow path towards perfection: no, it is perfect in every moment, all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself, all small children already have the old person in themselves, all infants already have death, all dying people the eternal life.
If the financial system has a defect, it is that it reflects and magnifies what we human beings are like. Money amplifies our tendency to overreact, to swing from exuberance when things are going well to deep depression when they go wrong. Booms and busts are products, at root, of our emotional volatility.
There is no such thing as change, but I would describe it as an alteration.'' Change implies transformation, if humanity has instincts and impulses how can we deny the very things that make us human.'' If change implies transformation wouldn't that mean we have no impulses and instincts.
The beauty of New York rests on a completely different base. It's unintentional. It arose independent of human design, like a stalagmitic cavern. Forms which are in themselves quite ugly turn up fortuitously, without design, in such incredible surroundings that they sparkle with a sudden wondrous poetry.
He learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke - the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. It was live. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the same force whenever two pairs of eyes meet . . .
We are such small, stupid things. For most of my life I thought of nature as the stupid thing: Blind, animal, destructive. We, the humans, were clean and smart and in control: we had wrestled the rest of the world into submission, battered it down, pinned it to a glass slide and the pages of The Bool of Shhh.
If I hadn’t spent so much time studying Earthlings," said the Tralfamadorian, "I wouldn’t have any idea what was meant by 'free will.' I've visited thirty-one inhabited planets in the universe, and I have studied reports on one hundred more. Only on Earth is there any talk of free will.
Unsere Fähigkeit zur Verantwortung ist [...] nicht etwas, das durch Philosophen, Politiker oder Geistliche quasi von außen in unser Leben hineingebracht würde, sie gehört vielmehr zum Grundbestand des Humanum. Wir verlieren uns selbst, wenn wir diesem Prinzip nicht zu folgen vermögen.
While we maintain the unity of the human species, we at the same time repel the depressing assumption of superior and inferior races of men. There are nations more susceptible of cultivation, more highly civilized, more ennobled by mental cultivation than others—but none in themselves nobler than others.
What if this is it?What if I've set a series of events into motion that will doom me to be trapped forever in some desperate monotonous life and in my last breaths, when I look back at all the mistakes I've made, I'll remember this moment, now, as the moment I truly fucked it all up. And then I die.
Ben hikâyeciyim diye sizlerden ayrı şeyler düşünecek değilim. Sizin düşündüklerinizden başka bir şey de düşünemem. O halde bu adamın hikâyesi ne olabilir? Sakın benden büyük vakalar beklemeyin, n'olur?
Maybe it's animalness that will make the world right again: the wisdom of elephants, the enthusiasm of canines, the grace of snakes, the mildness of anteaters. Perhaps being human needs some diluting. At any rate, how nice to be well dressed and among friends and in a state where poems pop out by themselves.
Some believe what separates men from animals is our ability to reason. Others say it’s language or romantic love, or opposable thumbs. Living here in this lost world, I’ve come to believe it is more than our biology. What truly makes us human is our unending search, our abiding desire for immortality.
We all come from somewhere. Born, aborted, extradited, fugitive or even enslaved. But much of what we are, belongs to Mother Africa. We need to respect and have esteem, knowledge and curiosity. Then, open your eyes to understand a little more. Do not accept this cultural void created by that ethnocentric feeling!
