Navajo men and boys have an odd way of showing their friendship. When two young men meet at the trading post, a "Sing", or a dance... they greet each other, inquire about the health of their respective families, then stand silently some ten or fifteen minutes while one feels the other's arms, shoulders, and chest.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The supreme, the merciless, the destroyer of opposition, the exalted King, the shepherd, the protector of the quarters of the worl...d, the King the word of whose mouth destroys mountains and seas, who by his lordly attack has forced mighty and merciless Kings from the rising of the sun to the setting of the same to acknowledge one supremacy.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Oh! Caesonia, I knew men could despair, but I did not know what that word meant. I thought like, everyone else, that it was an ail...ment of the soul. But no, it is the body that suffers. My skin hurts, my chest, my limbs. I am feeling lightheaded and nauseated. And the most horrible is this taste in my mouth. Neither blood, nor death, nor fever, but all of them at once.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Whoever sincerely believes that elevated and distant goals are as little use to man as a cow, that "all of our problems" come from... such goals, is left to eat, drink, sleep, or, when he gets sick of that, to run up to a chest and smash his forehead on its corner.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
She has been man's slave. He has been educated at her expense. If he bought the ice cream, she was expected to pay for all his lux...uries in reduced wages. She has done the drudgery and borne the insults of those who wronged her, assuming to be her protector.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky! ...>And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him When are you going to stop people killing whales!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Man is head, chest and stomach. Each of these animals operates, more often than not, individually. I eat, I feel, I even, although... rarely, think.... This jungle crawls and teems, is hungry, roars, gets angry, devours itself, and its cacophonic concert does not even stop when you are asleep.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Revolution? Unscrew the flag-staff, wrap the bunting in the oil covers, and put the thing in the clothes-chest. Let the old lady b...ring you your house-slippers and untie your fiery red necktie. You always make revolutions with your mugs, your republic--nothing but an industrial accident.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The nineteenth-century novelist Thomas Love Peacock once remarked critically that "a poet in our times is a semi-barbarian in a ci...vilized community.... The march of his intellect is like that of a crab, backward." It is my suspicion that though many moderns would applaud what Peacock probably meant only ironically, there is a certain virtue in the sidelong retreat of the crab. He never runs, he never ceases to face what menaces him, and he always keeps his pincers well to the fore. He is a creature adapted by nature for rearguard action and withdrawal, but never rout. The true poet is just such a fortunate creation as the elusive crab. He is born wary and is frequently in retreat because he is a protector of the human spirit.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »