I guess I like things that take time and attention. More worthwhile that way.
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This is Sailor Supergirl, George says. She knows all about black holes.
The Brit's face shares a heritage with a junkyard butt-sniffing mutt. It's a hard-earned moonshine mug, dotted with a hairy mole that looks like a rat's been gnawing on it. His beard looks like a white sneeze. The teeth are jagged and out of alignment, having opened quarts at Jiffy Quick Lube for half a decade.
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Right. Because if you have trouble putting ketchup and mustard on a hot dog, you should totally move on to saving lives.
You know what they say, Two pairs a company, cheese a croud
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Evil influence is like a nicotine patch, you cannot help but absorb what sticks to you.
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A sense of humour is the only divine quality of man
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Der Papst ist der einzige Konzern-Vize, der seinen Chef nie zu sehen bekommt. Nicht einmal bei der Weihnachtsfeier.
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I have no problem with god - it's his fan club that scars me.
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The British do not expect happiness. I had the impression, all the time that I lived there, that they do not want to be happy; they want to be right.
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I BELIEVE EVERYONE IS SPECIAL... BUT SOME PEOPLE THINK.... IT'S JUST ANOTHER WAY OF SAYING NO-ONE IS
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Going down in history is a dead end pursuit
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Very often the test of one's allegiance to a cause or to a people is precisely the willingness to stay the course when things are boring, to run the risk of repeating an old argument just one more time, or of going one more round with a hostile or (much worse) indifferent audience. I first became involved with the Czech opposition in 1968 when it was an intoxicating and celebrated cause. Then, during the depressing 1970s and 1980s I was a member of a routine committee that tried with limited success to help the reduced forces of Czech dissent to stay nourished (and published). The most pregnant moment of that commitment was one that I managed to miss at the time: I passed an afternoon with Zdenek Mlynar, exiled former secretary of the Czech Communist Party, who in the bleak early 1950s in Moscow had formed a friendship with a young Russian militant with an evident sense of irony named Mikhail Sergeyevitch Gorbachev. In 1988 I was arrested in Prague for attending a meeting of one of Vaclav Havel's 'Charter 77' committees. That outwardly exciting experience was interesting precisely because of its almost Zen-like tedium. I had gone to Prague determined to be the first visiting writer not to make use of the name Franz Kafka, but the numbing bureaucracy got the better of me. When I asked why I was being detained, I was told that I had no need to know the reason! Totalitarianism is itself a cliché (as well as a of pulverizing boredom) and it forced the cliché upon me in turn. I did have to mention Kafka in my eventual story. The regime fell not very much later, as I had slightly foreseen in that same piece that it would. (I had happened to notice that the young Czechs arrested with us were not at all frightened by the police, as their older mentors had been and still were, and also that the police themselves were almost fatigued by their job. This was totalitarianism practically yawning itself to death.) A couple of years after that I was overcome to be invited to an official reception in Prague, to thank those who had been consistent friends through the stultifying years of what 'The Party' had so perfectly termed 'normalization.' As with my tiny moment with Nelson Mandela, a whole historic stretch of nothingness and depression, combined with the long and deep insult of having to be pushed around by boring and mediocre people, could be at least partially canceled and annealed by one flash of humor and charm and generosity.
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Historical Re-creation, he thought glumly, as they picked their way across, under, over or through the boulders and insect-buzzing heaps of splintered timber, with streamlets running everywhere. Only we do it with people dressing up and running around with blunt weapons, and people selling hot dogs, and the girls all miserable because they can only dress up as wenches, wenching being the only job available to women in the olden days.
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This Earle of Oxford, making of his low obeisance to Queen Elizabeth, happened to let a Fart, at which he was so abashed and ashamed that he went to Travell, 7 yeares. On his returne the Queen welcomed him home, and sayd, My Lord, I had forgott the Fart.
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Sokrates' wife, Xanthippe, had in antiquity a reputation as a shrew - but being married to such a man would have tried anyone's patience, and the evidence is not conclusive.
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I tried to say something cool, wound up stammering something like, WANNA YOU WANNA WEENIE ME? The end kind of trailed off in a shrill, choking warble.
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Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of being well-preserved, but to skid sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, still screaming, 'Whoo what a ride!
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If you're a teenaged babysitter caring for a mute toddler in a remote Maine cabin during a once-in-a-century blizzard while and escaped killers (bearing a strange resemblance to the handicapped boy you and your friends bulled of an embankment and left for dead all those years ago) roams the woods, you're in a horror movie.
Host: For those of you just tuning in, our guests tonight are the amazing Murder Magician, and his lovely minion, The Assistant.. Assistant: Charmed, I'm sureHost: Who recently killed The Rumor. And you were awarded the Oppenheimer prize for villainy at last week's annual summit for dastardly deeds-- what are you going to do with all that money?Murder Magician: Well, I'm so glad you asked that-- because I spent all the money on this giant MURDERBOT, and I've been dying to show it off!Assistant: It's true.. Every penny. Host: Wow! That's impressive! So what does it do?Murder Magician: Well, Mr. Clark.. It murders people. Laughter. Murder Magician: I'm serious. Assistant: He is.
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Who knew death could lead to an eating disorder?
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If you try to fail, and succeed, which have you done?
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Never knock on death's door. Ring the doorbell then run. He totally hates that. - T-shirt
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Humor is what happens when we're told the truth quicker and more directly than we're used to.
We're taught that in life, we should try to look on the bright side. Not in this case. In this case, assume rejection first. Assume you're the rule, not the exception. It's liberating. But we also know it's not an easy concept. -He's not just into you
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