-- 16 year oldGrape Street Crip Gang-member
-- a localDeadhead in the Seattle Times
There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in allearnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in all the true inflections ofspoken English, but with not one recognizable syllable. There is no way you cantell the child that if language had been a melody, he had mastered it and donewell, but that since it was in fact a sense, he had botched it utterly.
One man's Mede is another man's Persian.
Once I was a tadpole, in the beginning of the begin; Then Iwas a toadfrog with my tail tucked in. Then I was a monkey in a banyan tree;Now I'm a professor with a Ph.D.
To see the rate you drink your beer.
Funny, this is just the kind of quasi-religious didacticismthat leads me to believe that objectivism is not philosophy and that it'sbasically a Rand fan club.
But oh, good Lord, the verse you make,
When they took the fourth amendment, I was silent because Idon't deal drugs. When they took the sixth amendment, I kept quiet because Iknow I'm innocent. When they took the second amendment, I said nothing becauseI don't own a gun. Now they've come for the first amendment, and I can't sayanything at all.
It gives a chap the belly-ache.
The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision ofwhat is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding go out tomeet it.
The cow, the old cow, she is dead;
Happiness is an imaginary condition, formerly attributed bythe living to the dead, now usually attributed by adults to children, and bychildren to adults.