What we professional liars hope to serve is truth. I’m afraid the pompous word for that is art.
Orson Welles
Month: March 2016
What we professional liars hope to serve is truth. I’m afraid the pompous word for that is art.
Orson Welles
Maybe she wasn’t so stupid, naïve. But, then, why had she raised her hand? Why was she waving at the men with guns climbing through the wall? Did she actually think they were there to help? Or could it be that Sue was offering herself, at last making the sacrifice she’d been put on earth to make?
Maybe she wasn’t so stupid, naïve. But, then, why had she raised her hand? Why was she waving at the men with guns climbing through the wall? Did she actually think they were there to help? Or could it be that Sue was offering herself, at last making the sacrifice she’d been put on earth to make?
They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often went apart, and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness; but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched.
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often went apart, and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness; but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched.
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
It comes up at dinner, outside in the yard, in airports as we wait for planes. You don’t let yourself feel, she tells me; and I tell her that I think it’s a crazy thing, all this talk about feeling. What do the African bushmen say? They say, Will we eat tomorrow? Will there be rain?
“The Year of Getting to Know Us” by Ethan Canin
It comes up at dinner, outside in the yard, in airports as we wait for planes. You don’t let yourself feel, she tells me; and I tell her that I think it’s a crazy thing, all this talk about feeling. What do the African bushmen say? They say, Will we eat tomorrow? Will there be rain?
“The Year of Getting to Know Us” by Ethan Canin
[I used to think it was weird to want to get walloped by B’Elanna. You know, a good punch in my stomach, or maybe she’d get up close and put her hand around my neck. Now I’m cool with it. Do you think she’d be cool with it?]
[I used to think it was weird to want to get walloped by B’Elanna. You know, a good punch in my stomach, or maybe she’d get up close and put her hand around my neck. Now I’m cool with it. Do you think she’d be cool with it?]