#poison

People who treat other people as less than human must not be surprised when the bread they have cast on the waters comes floating back to them, poisoned. ↗

— James A. Baldwin

#bread #cast #comes #floating #human

Belladonna, n.: In Italian a beautiful lady; in English a deadly poison. A striking example of the essential identity of the two tongues. ↗

— Ambrose Bierce

#deadly #english #essential #example #identity

Most haters are stuck in a poisonous mental prison of jealousy and self-doubt that blinds them to their own potentiality. ↗

— Steve Maraboli

#jealousy #poisonous #potential #self-doubt #experience

The ignorant mind, with its infinite afflictions, passions, and evils, is rooted in the three poisons. Greed, anger, and delusion. ↗

— Bodhidharma

#anger #delusion #evils #greed #ignorant

I am especially grateful, however, to have known the fifties, before we began to poison our own civilization - or at least before the effects of the poison began to be felt. ↗

— Orson Scott Card

#before #began #civilization #effects #especially

Never cry over spilt milk, because it may have been poisoned. ↗

— W. C. Fields

#been #cry #may #milk #never

I think that testosterone is a rare poison. ↗

— Germaine Greer

#i think #poison #rare #testosterone #think

Heat prickled my cheeks. My palms went clammy. Love is a lot like food poisoning. ↗

— Suzanne Supplee

#clammy #food-poisoning #love #food

A mother's body remembers her babies--the folds of soft flesh, the softly furred scalp against her nose. Each child has its own entreaties to body and soul. It's the last one, though, that overtakes you. I can't dare say I loved the others less, but my first three were all babies at once, and motherhood dismayed me entirely. . . . That's how it is with the firstborn, no matter what kind of mother you are--rich, poor, frazzled half to death or sweetly content. A first child is your own best food forward, and how you do cheer those little feet as they strike out. You examine every turn of flesh for precocity, and crow it to the world. But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through your life when there will be no more coming after--oh, that's love by a different name. She is the babe you hold in your arms for an hour after she's gone to sleep. If you put her down in the crib, she might wake up changed and fly away. So instead you rock by the window, drinking the light from her skin, breathing her exhaled dreams. Your heart bays to the double crescent moons of closed lashes on her cheeks. She's the one you can't put down. ↗

— Barbara Kingsolver

#change

Superstition is the poison of the mind. ↗

— Joseph Lewis

#poison #superstition