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Threaten the oppressed and be prepared to face their onslaught, abuse them and be prepared for an even greater threat.
Threaten the oppressed and be prepared to face their onslaught, abuse them and be prepared for an even greater threat.
70 pheasants shot in Rolling Rock
by Dick Cheney who's not in Iraq.
70 pheasants shot in Rolling Rock
by Dick Cheney who's not in Iraq.
The best security against revolution is in constant correction of abuses and the introduction of needed improvements. It is the read more
The best security against revolution is in constant correction of abuses and the introduction of needed improvements. It is the neglect of timely repair that makes rebuilding necessary.
Abuse is the weapon of the vulgar
Abuse is the weapon of the vulgar
My uncle never met an animal he didn't want to kill.
(on Book TV).
My uncle never met an animal he didn't want to kill.
(on Book TV).
When I step out of the role you have written for me
you make me feel like a plagiarist.
from read more
When I step out of the role you have written for me
you make me feel like a plagiarist.
from the play Jake's Women.
The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing..for once started upon that journey, the hog never came read more
The shriek was followed by another, louder and yet more agonizing..for once started upon that journey, the hog never came back. One by one the men hooked up the hogs and slit their throats. There was a line of hogs with squeals and lifeblood ebbing away.. until at last each vanished into a huge vat of boiling water (some still alive). The hogs were so innocent. They came so very trustingly. They were so very human in their protests. They had done nothing to deserve it.
in the book THE JUNGLE.
The zen of flyfishing is that zen masters
don't fish.. the Buddha suffocates no creature.
The zen of flyfishing is that zen masters
don't fish.. the Buddha suffocates no creature.
A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake read more
A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs,,
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings
Mirth is mail of anguish,
In which its cautious arm
Lest anybody spy the blood
And, you're hurt exclaim.
