Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
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I would say it was the coffin of a midget Or a square baby Were there not such a din in it.
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He always looked forward to the evening drives through the centre of Shanghai, this electric and lurid city, more exciting than any other in the world. As they reached the Bubbling Well Road he pressed his face to the windshield and gazed at the pavements lined with night-clubs and gambling dens, crowded with bar-girls and gangsters and rich beggars with their bodyguards. Crowds of gamblers pushed their way into the jai alai stadiums, blocking the traffic in the Bubbling Well Road. An armoured police van with two Thompson guns mounted in a steel turret above the driver swung in front of the Packard and cleared the pavement. A party of young Chinese women in sequinned dresses tripped over a child's coffin decked with paper flowers. Arms linked together, they lurched against the radiator grille of the Packard and swayed past Jim's window, slapping the windshield with their small hands and screaming obscenities. Nearby, along the windows of the Sun Sun department store in the Nanking Road, a party of young European jews were fighting in and out of the strolling crowds with a gang of older German boys in the swastika armbands of the Graf Zeppelin Club. Chased by the police sirens, they ran through the entrance of the Cathay Theatre, the world's largest cinema, where a crowd of Chinese shopgirls and typists, beggars and pickpockets spilled in the street to watch people arriving for the evening performance. As they stepped from their limousines the women steered their long skirts through the honour guard of fifty hunchbacks in mediaeval costume. Three months earlier, when his parents had taken Jim to the premiere of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, there had been two hundred hunchbacks, recruited by the management of the theatre from every back alley in Shanghai. As always, the spectacle outside the theatre for exceeded anything shown on its screen.
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i am everyone what if i were everyone in the world. every murder would also be a suicide. i'd be the person that shot myself, and the person that sued me for shooting me. id be the jury that sentenced myself to death. id be the judge that delivered the sentence. i'd be the preacher that gave me my last words and the chef that cooked me my last meal. i'd be the guard that escorted me to the little room. i would be the one to inject myself with lethal poisons. i would watch myself die, never feeling my own pain. i would be the preacher that preached at my funeral and the guests that attended it. i would be the pallbearers that carried my own coffin. i would be the person that dug my own grave and the one that set my coffin into the ground. and i would be the little girl that set flowers on the grave. setting flowers on my own grave
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She went in there to muse on being rid Of relative beneath the coffin lid. No one was by. She stuck her tongue out; slid.
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What a mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin.
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He makes a very handsome corpse and becomes his coffin prodigiously.
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It is the soldier who salutes the flag, serves beneath the flag, whose coffin is draped by the flag who gives that protester the freedom to abuse and burn that flag.
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Nothing is lost yet, nothing broken, and yet the cold blue word is spoken: say goodbye now to the Sun, the days of love and leaves are done.
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Time has an undertaking establishment on every block and drives his coffin nails faster than the steam riveters rivet or the stenographers typ...
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Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth lie
Dust unto dust
The calm, sweet earth that mothers all who die
As all men must;
Mourn not your captive comrades who must dwell
Too strong to strive
Within each steel-bound coffin of a cell,
Buried alive;
But rather mourn the apathetic throng
The cowed and the meek
Who see the world's great anguish and its wrong
And dare not speak!
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Hope arouses, as nothing else can arouse, a passion for the possible.
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According to legend, Dr. Sappington purchased his coffin several years before his death and kept it under his bed, with apples and nuts in it ...
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I don't want to own anything that won't fit into my coffin.
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Mourn not the dead that in the cool earth lie Dust unto dust The calm, sweet earth that mothers all who die As all men must; Mourn not your captive comrades who must dwell Too strong to strive Within each steel-bound coffin of a cell, Buried alive; But rather mourn the apathetic throng The cowed and the meek Who see the world's great anguish and its wrong And dare not speak!
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In the business world an executive knows something about everything, a technician knows everything about something - and the switchboard operator knows everything.
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A consumer is a shopper who is sore about something.
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The body of a sensualist is the coffin of a dead soul.
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Based on what you know about him in history books, what do you think Abraham Lincoln would be doing if he were alive today? (1) Writing his memoirs of the Civil War. (2) Advising the President. (3) Desperately clawing at the inside of his coffin.
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Language study is a route to maturity. Indeed, in language study as in life, if a person is the same today as he was yesterday, it would be an act of mercy to pronounce him dead and to place him in a coffin, rather than in a classroom.
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Based on what you know about him in history books, what do you think Abraham Lincoln would be doing if he were alive today? - Writing his memoirs of the Civil War. - Advising the President. - Desperately clawing at the inside of his coffin.
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When modern woman discovered the orgasm, it was, combined with modern birth control, perhaps the biggest single nail in the coffin of male dominance.
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UNIX is an operating system, OS/2 is half an operating system, Windows is a shell, and DOS is a boot partition virus.
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People who leave Washington do so by way of the box... ballet or coffin.
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Human beings who blind themselves to human need make themselves less human.
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You were born with your legs apart. They'll send you to the grave in a Y-shaped coffin.
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So don't let money tell you who you are. Don't let power tell you who your are. Don't let enemies and -- for God's sake -- don't let your sins tell you who you are. Don't prove yourself. That's taken care of. All we have to do is express ourselves. It's difficult, but we're a lot more alive in pain than in complacency.
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A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin
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The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love.
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A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.
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