Post a random quote from a book you're reading

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IsabellaLinton
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07 Dec 2018, 8:51 pm

"When I dress up as a frigid bitcch I try not to look so constipated!"

Elle Woods, Legally Blonde :heart:



sidetrack
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09 Dec 2018, 2:20 am

"But as John Little notes, "the problem with the Western approach is that it attempts to explain life as opposed to revealing how to experience it."--'The Warrior Within: The Philosophies' xviii foreword



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12 Dec 2018, 9:21 pm

I loved the part in To Kill A Mocking Bird when Calpurnia put Scout in her place for being rude to Walter Cunningham about the way he ate his food with molasses.

"There's some folks who don't eat like us, but you ain't called on to contradict 'em at the table when they don't. That boy's yo' comp'ny and if he wants to eat up the table cloth you let him, you hear?"

And

"Hush your mouth! Don't matter who they are, anybody sets foot in this house's yo' comp'ny, and don't you let me catch you remarkin' on their ways like you was so high and mighty! Yo' folks might be better'n the Cunninghams but it don't count for nothin' the way you're disgracin' 'em---if you can't act fit to eat at the table you can just set here and eat in the kitchen!"


How do you respond to that other than by saying "Yes Ma'am"? :lol: :mrgreen:



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14 Dec 2018, 11:37 pm

[**Not from a book**]

Quote:
Twenty-five years ago, one of my teachers, Ajaan Suwat, led a meditation retreat in Massachusetts for which I served as translator. During a group interview session one afternoon, a retreatant new to Buddhism quipped, “You guys would have a good religion here if only you had a God. That way people would have some sense of support in their practice when things aren’t going well.”

Ajaan Suwat’s gentle reply has stayed with me ever since: “If there were a god who could arrange that by my taking a mouthful of food all the beings in the world would become full, I’d bow down to that god. But I haven’t found anyone like that yet.”



IsabellaLinton
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16 Dec 2018, 3:57 pm

"She was nearly sixteen years old, a slim, smouldering girl, deeply reticent, yet lapsing into unreserved expansiveness now and then, when she seemed to give her whole soul but when in fact she only made another counterfeit of her soul for outward presentation. She was sensitive in the extreme, always tortured, always affecting a callous indifference to screen herself".

The Rainbow, DH Lawrence (Oxford World's Classics, 1915)


:roll: Sound familiar, Aspie women?



sidetrack
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19 Dec 2018, 12:20 pm

Quote:

You may have heard that Buddha denied the existence of the self. Let's be clear: Buddha never denied that we experience the world and out lives through a sense of self. This self matters and needs attention. What Buddha denied was the enduring nature of this self: it is not eternal. Our selves arise and they pass away; and in fact, even while they exist, they only do so in relationship with others.



--'What would Buddha do at work?: 101 answers to workplace dilemmas' by Franz Metcalf & BJ Gallagher Hateley.



IsabellaLinton
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21 Dec 2018, 8:18 am

I'm officially speechless 8O :

I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it had been before, how there was that germ of positive creativeness. Character is fate, and damn! I'd better work on my character! I had been withdrawing into a retreat of numbness: it is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch one. But, my honest self revolted at this, hated me for doing this. Sick with conflict and destructive negative emotions, frozen into disintegration, I was refusing to articulate, to spew forth these emotions -- they festered in me, growing big, distorted, like pus-bloated sores. Small problems, mentions of someone else's felicity, evidence of someone else's talents, frightened me, making me react hollowly, fighting jealousy, envy, hate. I was feeling myself fall apart, decay, rot, the laurels wither and fall away, and my past sins and omissions strike me with full punishment and import. All this, all this foul, gangrenous sludge, ate away at my insides. Silent, insidious.

Plath, Sylvia, and Karen V. Kukil. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962. New York: Anchor Books, 2000



feeli0
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21 Dec 2018, 3:13 pm

IsabellaLinton wrote:
I'm officially speechless 8O :

I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it had been before, how there was that germ of positive creativeness. Character is fate, and damn! I'd better work on my character! I had been withdrawing into a retreat of numbness: it is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch one. But, my honest self revolted at this, hated me for doing this. Sick with conflict and destructive negative emotions, frozen into disintegration, I was refusing to articulate, to spew forth these emotions -- they festered in me, growing big, distorted, like pus-bloated sores. Small problems, mentions of someone else's felicity, evidence of someone else's talents, frightened me, making me react hollowly, fighting jealousy, envy, hate. I was feeling myself fall apart, decay, rot, the laurels wither and fall away, and my past sins and omissions strike me with full punishment and import. All this, all this foul, gangrenous sludge, ate away at my insides. Silent, insidious.

Plath, Sylvia, and Karen V. Kukil. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962. New York: Anchor Books, 2000



Wow what clear articulation. 8O


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IsabellaLinton
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21 Dec 2018, 3:14 pm

feeli0 wrote:
IsabellaLinton wrote:
I'm officially speechless 8O :

I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it had been before, how there was that germ of positive creativeness. Character is fate, and damn! I'd better work on my character! I had been withdrawing into a retreat of numbness: it is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch one. But, my honest self revolted at this, hated me for doing this. Sick with conflict and destructive negative emotions, frozen into disintegration, I was refusing to articulate, to spew forth these emotions -- they festered in me, growing big, distorted, like pus-bloated sores. Small problems, mentions of someone else's felicity, evidence of someone else's talents, frightened me, making me react hollowly, fighting jealousy, envy, hate. I was feeling myself fall apart, decay, rot, the laurels wither and fall away, and my past sins and omissions strike me with full punishment and import. All this, all this foul, gangrenous sludge, ate away at my insides. Silent, insidious.

Plath, Sylvia, and Karen V. Kukil. The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950-1962. New York: Anchor Books, 2000



Wow what clear articulation. 8O


That's my mutism in a nutshell.



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21 Dec 2018, 3:23 pm

^^ yes.

I have been reading some of the other quotes you have posted here, Is. Amazing skill you have at picking out the profound.


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IsabellaLinton
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21 Dec 2018, 4:01 pm

Thanks, feels. PTSD gives me omnipotent radar for finding some gems.



Prometheus18
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21 Dec 2018, 5:06 pm

Quote:
Every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.

The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky.



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22 Dec 2018, 7:36 am

Quote:
And remember, problems may be solved but they are always replaced. They're endless. In the final analysis, your process is your real work.
--p.93 --'What would Buddha do at work?: 101 answers to workplace dilemmas' by Franz Metcalf & BJ Gallagher Hateley..a previous quote was from p.12

In the final analysis, your process is your real work since problems may be solved but they are always replaced. They're endless.



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26 Dec 2018, 3:51 pm

"Oh! oh! My feet of fire! My burning feet of fire! Oh! oh! This height and fiery speed!"

(Sorry, nothing profound or anything - just doing exactly what the thread title says)


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Yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"

When you try to assume, it makes an a** out of u and me.

I have increasing memory issues, and a tendency to forget that I forget everything. Please don't take it personally if I forget something, it probably says absolutely nothing about how important the thing is/isn’t to me.


Fnord
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26 Dec 2018, 4:42 pm

"Powering switcher is for to making device on. For no battery powering cannot make." -- Instruction booklet from a Chinese-made electric shaver I got for Christmas.



dragonsanddemons
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26 Dec 2018, 10:01 pm

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.


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Yet in my new wildness and freedom I almost welcome the bitterness of alienage. For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.
-H. P. Lovecraft, "The Outsider"

When you try to assume, it makes an a** out of u and me.

I have increasing memory issues, and a tendency to forget that I forget everything. Please don't take it personally if I forget something, it probably says absolutely nothing about how important the thing is/isn’t to me.