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Memory is a painter. Paintin's not important. The important thing is keepin' busy.
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It's a funny thing about writing. You get so balled up in a story idea that you lose your perspective and forget that human being might read your words someday.
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So come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing, and put your lips to the world. And live your life.
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Rap actually comes out of punk rock, not black music.
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If Charlie Sheen outlives me, I'm gonna be really pissed.
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If the layman cannot participate in decision making, he will have to turn himself over, essentially blind, to a hermetic elite. ... [The fundamental question becomes] are we still capable of self-government and therefore freedom? Margaret Mead wrote in a 1959 issue of Daedalus about scientists elevated to the status of priests. Now there is a name for this elevation, when you are in the hands of-one hopes-a benevolent elite, when you have no control over your political decisions. From the point of view of John Locke, the name for this is slavery.
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As a Christian, you ought to be less concerned about where God is bringing you out from, rather, focus on where He's taking you to.
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It's always flattering when somebody you really respect and like wants you to be involved in their project - let alone writes a part with your voice in mind.
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By 'coming to terms with life' I mean: the reality of death has become a definite part of my life; my life has, so to speak, been extended by death, by my looking death in the eye and accepting it, by accepting destruction as part of life and no longer wasting my energies on fear of death or the refusal to acknowledge its inevitability. It sounds paradoxical: by excluding death from our life we cannot live a full life, and by admitting death into our life we enlarge and enrich it.
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Popcorn-can cover / screwed to the wall / over a hole / so the cold / can't mouse in.