All happy families are alike but an unhappy family is unhappy after its own fashion.
“..what am I to do?”
There was no answer, except life’s usual answer to the most complex and insoluble questions. The answer is this: live from day to day; in other words, forget.
Perhaps it’s our strong point really—this faculty for seeing our own shortcomings; but we overdo it, we comfort ourselves with irony to which we always give ready tongue.
It was my last effort. And I put my whole heart into it. I can’t. I’m no good at it.
His whole heart was filled with memories.
The future is yours and the present is mine- and the present is not all that it might be.
But it could not be helped. What must be must be.
By the mark of your steed
I can tell his fine breed
And a young man in love by his eyes
He felt himself and did not want to be anyone else. All he wanted was to be better than he had been before.
However often one sees her, every day she’s different. you only get that with the French.
They ought to find a way of being inoculated against love, like being vaccinated for smallpox.
Time will go by and I shall not mind about this either.
Spring is the time of plans and projects.
Woman, don’t you know, is the sort of subject that study it as much as you will it is always quite new.
Whatever our destiny is or may be, we have made it ourselves and we do not complain…no, they must needs teach us how to live. They haven’t the remotest idea of what happiness is; they don’t know that without our love, for us there is neither happiness nor unhappiness- there would be no life at all.
There are times when one would give a whole month for a six pence and others when you wouldn’t sell half-an-hour at any price.
She was studying his face, making up for the time she had not seen him, comparing, as she did every time they met, the picture of him in her imagination (incomparably superior, impossible in reality) with him as he actually was.
He looked at her as a man might look at some faded flower he had picked, in which it was difficult to trace the beauty that had made him pick and so destroy it.
I’ve always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be…
He who advocates war- off with him in a special advance legion to lead the first onslaught, the first attack!
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Five Reasons Why the Winter Olympics Are Better Than the Summer Olympics
Still experiencing a little post-Olympic withdrawal. 2012 seems so far, while 2014 is a LIFETIME. And, as we all know, the Winter Olympics are way better than the Summer Olympics. Why's that, you ask? I'll tell you.
1. The age range
This is one of those classic cases where I have no facts to back up this statement, but it seems to me that there is a much wider age range in the Winter Olympics than the summer ones. A lot of the athletes I saw were late 20's to early 30's, but there were still teenagers in most events as well, so it seems that the sports just lend themselves to wider age ranges. I like this because a) you get to know the the athletes because they participate in more than one Olympics, b) there's a transition between the younger and older athletes and c) if someone messes up (Lindsey Jacobellis, anyone?) you don't have to feel quite as bad because maybe next time! Also, repeat Olympic appearances means that athletes have a chance to get their first-Olympic jitters out of the way, which could potentially lead to great performances. ALSO, repeat Olympic performances mean rivalries can be strengthened, and that's ha;f the fun!
2. Less is more
I know the Summer Olympics are more egalitarian, but I enjoy the fact that there are less countries in the Winter Games, not because I don't want those missing countries to have a chance to compete but because it makes watching it easier/more enjoyable. The aforementioned rivalries are more concentrated and take on a greater country-v-country aspect, the medal standing are easier to track, etc.
Along those lines, there are also fewer events in the Winter Games, which means I really can follow EVERYTHING, and care, and get behind Team USA as a whole as opposed to reducing it the Michael Phelps and the gymnastics team.
3. Racing on a track is less than racing on anything else
One of the biggest Summer Olympics sports is running. Running with hurdles, running without, running in teams, running this distance, running that, running running running. I find watching running incredibly boring. The distances are usually short, or feel way too long, people seem to go much slower than they do...I just don't like it. But strap a pair of skates on their feet? Done and done. Seriously, compare short track to track track...there's no comparison. Short track is way, way better. The grace, the balance required, the fact that you are almost guaranteed a collision at some point, the angle of the skaters...it's just all way better. Alpine skiing? Better. Bobsled? Better, if only marginally. And it goes on.
4. Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!
The Winter Olympics are about 1000x more dangerous than the Summer Olympics. Almost every sport involves risking life and limb in some serious way, and disaster lurks around every corner. I don't watch the Winter Olympic because I want someone to get hurt, but the fact that they could (and do) makes the viewing experience way more intense/suspenseful. Also, it gives me greater respect for the athletes. Yes, you can swim fast, but you don't require courage to get in that pool, while I think throwing yourself down a mountains takes some serious balls.
5. We get to hate on Russia again
Seriously, the Russians are just the best villains the world has ever seen, and the Winter Olympics once again give us an opportunity to be locked in an epic battle with them for supremacy (one we handily won this last time round). You only need to see the Plushenko profile to see how a view shots of Moscow and a little accented discussion of one's "enemies" can take men's figure skating and elevate it to James Bond proportions.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
And You Can Quote Me: The Boxcar Children #3: The Yellow House Mystery; Gertrude Chandler Warner
But he was too late. The [fish] hook caught fast in her hair and pulled it down over her face.
"Oh Alice, your pretty smooth hair!" cried Violet.
"O.K." said Benny. "Then I suppose we'll really starve without any breakfast at all."
"Let's call this Potato Camp, because we didn't eat anything here but potatoes." After that, the children always called it Potato Camp.
And You Can Quote Me: The Boxcar Children #5: Mike's Mystery; Gertrude Chandler Warner
(in which more things are named, gender roles are further enforced and washing machines are incredibly exciting)
Jessie nodded at her older brother. "Yes, we will get off at Yellow Sands now. I think that is a beautiful name. Our uranium fields look just like yellow sand."
"[The horse] is taking it easy these days," said Maggie. "He stays out in the field all the time eating grass. This car goes faster."
"You mean you can drive it, Maggie?" asked Jessie.
"Yes," said Maggie smiling. "Sam says I drive alright."
"Remember Pat? My big brother?"
"Oh, yes, " said Henry. "He was the one who almost got drowned at the picnic."
"I'm glad," said Mrs. Wood very quietly. " I love to bake pies the best of anything. I wish I had time."
"Haven't you time?" asked Jessie, puzzled.
"No, dear," said Mrs. Wood. Her voice sounded sad. "I was all day to earn money to help keep us. I'm lucky to have a washing machine."
He showed them the door of the super market which opened all by itself.
"I'm afraid it is," said Jessie, trying to read. "That lovely new, pink house, and the washing machine and the electric stove!"
(Note: What Jessie is reacting to is a friend's house being burnt to the ground, the main plot point of the story)
"Well, well, Mr. Carter!" cried Henry. "We are so glad to see you again. You always seem to pop up when there is trouble."
"I try to," said John Carter with a twinkle in his eye.
"So when the place cools off, the pink house will be built again," replied the man.
"How about the things inside? The washing machine?" asked Jessie.
(Note: At this point, the children decide to set Mrs. Wood, Mike's mother, up with a pie shop)
"Sign?" cried Benny. "Did you say a sign? I'll tell you a good sign. Mike's Mother's Place."
..."Wonderful!" said Jessie. "And what a wonderful name for this place!"
"Oh, I remember," said Mr. Alden. "He had a brother who almost drowned."
Jessie wanted t wash dishes first. She filled the dish pan with hot soap suds. Then one by one, she slid the plates in, and washed them with a sponge. "I just love to do this," she said.
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