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Once upon a time, when men and women hurtled through the air on metal wings, when they wore webbed feet and walked on the bottom of the sea, learning the speech of whales and the songs of the dolphins, when pearly-fleshed and jewelled apparitions of Texan herdsmen and houris shimmered in the dusk on Nicaraguan hillsides, when folk in Norway and Tasmania in dead of winter could dream of fresh strawberries, dates, guavas and passion fruits and find them spread next morning on their tables, there was a woman who was largely irrelevant, and therefore happy.
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For many of us the march from Selma to Montgomery was about protest and prayer. Legs are not lips and walking is not kneeling. And yet our legs uttered songs. Even without words, our march was worship. I felt my legs were praying.
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I think the fans really wanna hear the songs the way they sound on the record.
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The year showed me beyond a doubt that everyone practices cafeteria religion... But the important lesson was this: there's nothing wrong with choosing. Cafeterias aren't bad per se... the key is in choosing the right dishes. You need to pick the nurturing ones (compassion), the healthy ones (love thy neighbor), not the bitter ones.
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A loud noise will get your fight-or-flight response going. This, over the years, can cause real cardiovascular damage.
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One of the penalties of being president of the United States is that you must subsist for four years without drinking anything except Californian wine.
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If you imagine writing 1,000 words a day, which most journalists do, that would be a very long book a year.
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He pressed a kiss to my ear. “Do you feel stretched? Can you tell I’ve been inside you?†I nodded, feeling my knees go a little weak from the tone in his voice. “Good. I like knowing you can feel where I’ve been.
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Like a pet fish unaware of the fishbowl it lives in, each of us inherently discriminates against young people without knowing it.
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For in pure maidens, knowing not the marriage-bed, the glance of the eyes sinks from shame.
