#stop

When I go outside of L.A., no matter where it is, really anywhere I go, people will be stopping me or taking pictures or whatever it is. And it's great. It's amazing. I'm just lucky. ↗

— Michael Welch

#anywhere #go #great #i #just

I rode it once, which was up the driveway in the opening credits of the show. I didn't know how to stop it. I actually nearly killed the director of photography, and I smashed into the sound truck. ↗

— Henry Winkler

#credits #director #driveway #how #i

A mother becomes a true grandmother the day she stops noticing the terrible things her children do because she is so enchanted with the wonderful things her grandchildren do. ↗

— Lois Wyse

#becomes #children #day #enchanted #grandchildren

...because of the foulness of her mother's emotional river, a current which ran swift, changing its path without warning... ↗

— Tamara Rose Blodgett

#descriptive-prose #dystopia #from-review #paranormal-romance #post-apocalyptic

I [Christopher Hitchens] moved into Mart's sock—where you lived was your 'sock.' Your rug was your 'hair.' Your knee was still your knee: we couldn't think of another word for it. We called our penises our 'willie winkies' and our shared lavatory 'the bog.' There were a lot of brilliantly inventive word games of that kind. What if you changed 'heart' to 'dick' in any well-known song or phrase? Bury my dick at Wounded Knee. Dick-break Hotel. Don't go breaking my dick ... They may, in retrospect, seem infantile, but they built intellectual muscle and taught us all we knew about philosophy, psychology, and other -ologies too numerous (and humorous!) to mention. It was at the time of the wholly reprehensible bombing of Cambodia. These dazzling jests were part of the reason why, when Mart and I got together, nobody felt able to leave the room, or sock-toe. A glimpse, if you will, of another era, a time when Mr. Wilde had sparred so felicitously with Mr. Whistler across their effortlessly groaning table at the imperious Cafe Royal. ↗

— Craig Brown

#martin-amis #change

What were you thinking when Trevor had that gun to your head?” “That I was going to die.” I said sounding too sarcastic to actually cover up that I was thinking something much different. “Well, I know that…but when you heard him start to pull the trigger your face changed. I watched it as I pulled the trigger on him.” He said his body still tense against mine. “I was thinking why the hell you hadn’t saved me yet.” “Sure you were. That’s not what I saw in your face.” He noted as his body relaxed. I turned to look at him again and our faces were barely an inch apart. “Then you know what I was thinking, so why are you asking? ↗

— Cassandra Giovanni

#in-between-seasons #post-apocalyptic #ya-dystopian #ya-romance #change

Ideas combined with courage can change the world. ↗

— David Litwack

#dystopia #dystopian-fiction #ideas #change

Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you'd be boiled to death before you knew it. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#change

Technique has taken over the whole of civilization. Death, procreation, birth all submit to technical efficiency and systemization. ↗

— Jacques Ellul

#technique #death

What is the matter with these people, these people who won't stop fighting, won't stop hurting each other long enough to see that a body is a thing of beauty, is a miracle of rivers and oceans and islands and continents contained within itself? That the brain is divided into two hemispheres, each symmetrical, each perfect, each with its own system of waterways. These people of war should be shown an x-ray of an intraparenchymal hemorrhage, of a hemorrhage in an eighteen-year-old girl's brain, a girl named Ivy. Take a look at that, people of war. See, you should not hurt each other, and this is why. Without you ever even trying, this is what can happen to your body, your beautiful body, and your brain, your beautiful symmetrical brain, and your heart, and your soul. ↗

— Alison McGhee

#hurt #people-of-war #stop #waterways #beauty