#ww

It was a beautiful Indian summer morning and perfect for savoring a few extra minutes in bed. There was a breeze blowing through my bedroom window; the air was as crisp as a bite of a fresh red apple. ↗

— Nancy B. Brewer

#beauty

I have in this War a burning private grudge—which would probably make me a better soldier at 49 than I was at 22: against that ruddy little ignoramus Adolf Hitler (for the odd thing about demonic inspiration and impetus is that it in no way enhances the purely intellectual stature: it chiefly affects the mere will). Ruining, perverting, misapplying, and making for ever accursed, that noble northern spirit, a supreme contribution to Europe, which I have ever loved, and tried to present in its true light. ↗

— J.R.R. Tolkien

#aryans #demon #hitler #perspective #propaganda

Time collapsed into a delicate dark pencil brushed against our eyebrows, the emergent rumble of crowds gathering above our heads. We slid into our costumes. Pirate, outlaw, futuristic rebels. Red, purple, gold. Chains hanging from our belts, tight black trousers. We were moved upstairs, closer to the stage. Finally, we heard the cannon's roar: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome... Tanzar recording artists... THE MASTER PLANETS!" The world shot forward. We stepped into the spotlight. ↗

— Donald Gallinger

#coming-of-age #holocaust #psychological-drama #revenge #rock-and-roll

In the Second World War he took no public part, having escaped to a neutral country just before its outbreak. In private conversation he was wont to say that homicidal lunatics were well employed in killing each other, but that sensible men would keep out of their way while they were doing it. Fortunately this outlook, which is reminiscent of Bentham, has become rare in this age, which recognizes that heroism has a value independent of its utility. The Last Survivor of a Dead Epoch ↗

— Bertrand Russell

#war #wwii #age

Integrating the beauty of seasonal change into the residence was a concept that remains true even today even in the more cramped, inner city machiya. ↗

— Judith Clancy

#food #history #japan #kyoto #machiya

It wasn't okay. I didn't want her to leave. I didn't care if Jesus wanted her or not. She was my mommy. He could take an old mommy. One that didn't have little boys to take care of. ↗

— Jamie McGuire

#poor-travis #want-to-hug-him #beauty

Mute in that golden silence hung with green, Come down from heaven and bring me in your eyes Remembrance of all beauty that has been, And stillness from the pools of Paradise. ↗

— Siegfried Sassoon

#poetry #sassoon #world-war-one #wwi #beauty

I keep such music in my brain No din this side of death can quell; Glory exulting over pain, And beauty, garlanded in hell. ↗

— Siegfried Sassoon

#beauty

At this period, too, Leningraders resorted to their most desperate food substitutes, scraping dried glue from the underside of wallpaper and boiling up shoes and belts. (Tannery processes had changed, they discovered, since the days of Amundsen and Nansen, and the leather remained tough and inedible.) ↗

— Anna Reid

#polar-exploration #siege #starvation #wwii #change

People change sides. You’ve always been a dirty piece of shit cop. You can be bought, Verner!” “Just like you, Ingrid. Just like you.” Conversation between ‘Alis K’ and ‘Jens’ in the novel 'The Informer' by Steen Langstrup ↗

— Steen Langstrup

#informers #scandinavian-mysteries #ww #change