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"Generally speaking, the best people nowadays go into journalism, the second best into business, the rubbish into politics and the shits into law."
-Auberon Waugh
"You know what's funny? I like seltzer water.. because, I really learned that um, people, like to steal your sodas. they're like your youth. they like to steal your hawaiian punch, they like to steal your dr brown. I really learned that, seltzer water, people don't like it. and I noticed I liked it, and the more I had, the more I saved a lot of water. I, like, you could sit a big jug of seltzer water? around? and nobody would touch it."
Ari: I didn’t go to the Lakers game because they were playing the fucking Bobcats… And I came here today because I thought this was a session on how my wife could learn to communicate, how to answer a question without a question, basic Humanity 101, which I thought, given your wall of fucking diplomas, you could easily fix, or if you couldn’t, you could give her a pill that would either fix it or make her a mute. But now, to turn around and gang up on me? I have work to do. I have hundreds of clients to deal with, and just so we’re clear, I don’t care about ANY OF THEM. They’re ALL just a number, like Wife #1 and Therapist #7
"when the beer goes in, sense goes out, and then there's room for more beer" apparantly said by some gamer with the nickname fOx- who I don't know at all, but I love that quote
“Style is something you can use, and you can be like a magpie, just taking what you want. The idea of the rigid style seemed to me then something you needn’t concern yourself with, it would trap you.” – David Hockney
There is work. People show up for jobs. It is extraordinary. They come on the bus to the factory. They open the shop, they sweep, they wrap, they wash, they fix, they tend, they count, they mind the computers. Each day, each night. And however rebellious at heart, however despairing, terrified, or worn bare, come to their tasks. Up and down in the elevator, sitting down to the desk, behind the wheel, tending machinery. For such a volatile and restless animal, such a high-strung, curious animal, an ape subject to so many diseases, to anguish, boredom, such discipline, such drill, such strength for order (even in disorder) is a great mystery, too. Oh, it is a mystery. One cannot mistake this for thorough madness therefore. One thing, though, the disciplined hate the undisciplined to the point of murder. Thus the working class, disciplined, is a rat reservoir of hatred. Thus the clerk behind the wicket finds it hard to forgive those who come and go their apparent freedom. And the bureaucrat, glad when disorderly men are killed. All of them, killed.
Saul Bellow, Mr. Sammler's Planet
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months - Oscar Wilde
"It is often by quite indirect routes that the fear of death creeps up on us: the rasping of an insect heard in the night, the clacking of hooves on the surface of the street when one is in bed, the creaking of furniture (manifesting a life foreign to us), the click announcing the start of a mechanism or -- like a death rattle -- the snore of a sleeper, to mention only noises. Unlike the creaking of one's bones (undeniable proof that one is rusting), they contain nothing that is of a nature to worry us especially: a stammer emanating from an indeterminate spot, or a clue to a life separate from ours -- only upon reflection might we detect anything that could turn either one or the other of these traits into signs reminiscent of death."
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