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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #ky
You see, gentlemen, reason is an excellent thing, there's no disputing that, but reason is nothing but reason and satisfies only the rational side of man's nature, while will is a manifestation of the whole life, that is, of the whole human life including reason and all the impulses. And although our life, in this manifestation of it, is often worthless, yet it is life and not simply extracting square roots. Here I, for instance, quite naturally want to live, in order to satisfy all my capacities for life, and not simply my capacity for reasoning, that is, not simply one twentieth of my capacity for life. What does reason know? Reason only knows what it has succeeded in learning (some things, perhaps, it will never learn; this is a poor comfort, but why not say so frankly?) and human nature acts as a whole, with everything that is in it, consciously or unconsciously, and, even if it goes wrong, it lives. ↗
#choice #fyodor-dostoyevsky #life #notes-from-the-underground #reason
Along the way I stopped into a coffee shop. All around me normal, everyday city types were going about their normal, everyday affairs. Lovers were whispering to each other, businessmen were poring over spread sheets, college kids were planning their next ski trip and discussing the new Police album. We could have been in any city in Japan. Transplant this coffee shop scene to Yokohama or Fukuoka and nothing would seem out of place. In spite of which -- or, rather, all the more because -- here I was, sitting in this coffee shop, drinking my coffee, feeling a desperate loneliness. I alone was the outsider. I had no place here. Of course, by the same token, I couldn't really say I belonged to Tokyo and its coffee shops. But I had never felt this loneliness there. I could drink my coffee, read my book, pass the time of day without any special thought, all because I was part of the regular scenery. Here I had no ties to anyone. Fact is, I'd come to reclaim myself. ↗
The final option to have your book completed is to hire a ghost writer. The challenge with this option is that it is important to note that your voice IS an integral part of your branding. When you hire someone else, what your readers will ultimately get is their voice. When they see you later at your website or on your social media, your voice will not be the same. This will trigger a feeling of inconsistency when relationships need to be built upon trust and authenticity. Your audience will eventually come to think you are not the “real deal” and will find another to replace you. Finally, your book is a springboard and launching pad to greater things such as speaking, interviews, a product line, etc. Will your ghost writer be available for all of that as well? How will you be able to “ghost write” your way through an interview? Hence the reason I stress speaking in your own voice. You may think you are not perfect, but your authenticity will speak in volumes to your followers and they will be customers for life if they see your true being. ↗
#book-power #kytka #speak-in-your-own-voice #true-to-self #life
It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it. ↗
Elise hid her face in his shoulder, embarassed, "Kane! What will they think?" She whispered against his neck. "That we're newly bonded and I can't keep my hands off of my lovely mate." And sure enough, the good natured calls that accompanied them across the yard left her in no doubt that the others were thinking exactly that. ↗
#funny #humor #kane #mating #nicky-charles
Okay," she murmured. "I love you." "I love you too." She looked up at Holgar and realized that he didn't understand. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, and she shook her head. His smile began to fade. "Not as a friend, or as a partner. Holgar, I—I love you, and I want to be with you." His smile faded, and his eyes took on a strange look. She could feel herself beginning to panic. He doesn't feel the same way. That's okay. At least I told him. "Like a mate?" he asked. She almost started laughing. A mate was British slang for a best friend. But that's not what Holgar was likely referencing. He was a werewolf, and they called their spouses mates. "Like a mate," she said, managing not to giggle at the unexpected language barrier. He still looked confused and a little lost. "For helvede," she said, using his favourite curse word. And then she leaned forward and kissed him. She tasted surprise on his lips for just a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him. she would have to do a healing spell on her bruised ribs later, but at the moment she didn't care. All she cared about was the passion, the yearning, she felt from him. When at last they broke apart, she whispered again, "I love you." "I love you too," he said. And looking into his eyes this time, she knew that they were talking about the same thing. "So, do we want to give us a shot?" she asked, breathless. He looked at her, confusion again returning to his eyes. "You love me, ja?" "Yes, ja," she said. He grinned at her. His eyes danced. "Then marry me. ↗
And when I'm feeling glum, because Gregory's away of because my daughter's just hurled her full glass of milk at my head, or just because time is passing, I like to scroll through the annual East Trawley High School online newsletter, which gets mass-emailed by Shanice Morain, who's on her second marriage and who cohosts her own Christian Soul-Support and Teen Prayer Variety Hour on local TV and who's just been appointed our class secretary. In the current Alumni Notes section I read that Katelynn Streedmore has just been named the head dietitian at the Jamesburg Assisted Care Facility, that Cal Malstrup and his wife Chelsea Marie have just welcomed their fifth bundle of joy, whom they've christened Blake-Jorlinda Malstrup, and that Becky Randle is still the Queen of England. ↗
så lad det være den største forbryder, han er dog et menneske som jeg; også han har været uskyldig! Hvem veed, hvor mange haarde kampe han kjæmpede, før han gjorde det første skridt til sin ulykke; lidt efter lidt gled han dybere, - pludselig bliver ingen en forbryder: det ere lidenskaber, opdragelse og en forunderlig sammenkjædning af omstændigheder, som danner vores livs malerie, - vi maa afskye forbryderens handlinger, men kan menneskeligheden dadles om den beklager ham? Hvem veed hvorledes vi havde handlet, om vi vare fødte i hans stilling, med hans lidenskaber og begreber? ↗
The last time that I consciously wrote anything to 'save the honor of the Left', as I rather pompously put it, was my little book on the crookedness and cowardice and corruption (to put it no higher) of Clinton. I used leftist categories to measure him, in other words, and to show how idiotic was the belief that he was a liberal's champion. Again, more leftists than you might think were on my side or in my corner, and the book was published by Verso, which is the publishing arm of the New Left Review. However, if a near-majority of leftists and liberals choose to think that Clinton was the target of a witch-hunt and the victim of 'sexual McCarthyism', an Arkansan Alger Hiss in other words, you become weary of debating on their terms and leave them to make the best of it. ↗
Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand; Long time the manxome foe he sought— So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And, as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. ↗
