Scroll Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
so many things are there to say.time is short and I have to get many as well as want to give too many. when you told me 'it is your mistake''-I cried, shout at me.thinking why I can not stop to look at you.why I run to you?there was no answer , just a deep pain scroll down my throat and fight for me with in tears. that special day and today - long time has passed between both of us.there is no change to feel the feelings from my bottom my may be scared a little- why I am after you?may be you thought in other way- but very first moment I was at one same corner-that I loved you for years and years. I was scared -how you will react?i wanted to tell you this word -in your your care of love, at most close moment -when we could feel the breathe of each other.i wanted to hide for years in you - what I lost many years back I wanted to feel in my hand, face, eyes, and by you. I could express , why ?because I know I will never be close to you after that were too close, too close to me, if I moved -I could touch you.i feel now -why I did not try for that?perhaps long wait for you , from unknown bond- I am so much far away of you. I want to go to you just like a baby girl who run to her childhood friend without any restriction. I am missing changed every way.i looked at your picture- and feel why I cant be with you?why this restriction? why I am bound?i want to run away from everything, whatever will help me to forget you... but that is impossible. sometimes I want to throw you out of my side- but it is you, you pull me again and again towards I can feel your love, i can feel you touch on my face..all over me.. I cant be angry for long..death is only wall which can parted me from you. first day and now I am with you, your love is looking after me, you are not allowing me to move at wrongfully -though I miss you each not read this darling-when I will not be here someday if you want then read it, I love you, always do,

lity munshi
[Professor Greene's] reaction to GAMAY, as published in the Yale Daily News, fairly took one's breath away. He fondled the word "fascist" as though he had come up with a Dead Sea Scroll vouchsafing the key word to the understanding of God and Man at Yale. In a few sentences he used the term thrice. "Mr. Buckley has done Yale a great service" (how I would tire of this pedestrian rhetorical device), "and he may well do the cause of liberal education in America an even greater service, by stating the fascist alternative to liberalism. This fascist thesis... This... pure fascism... What more could Hitler, Mussolini, or Stalin ask for... ?" (They asked for, and got, a great deal more.) What survives, from such stuff as this, is ne-plus-ultra relativism, idiot nihlism. "What is required, " Professor Greene spoke, "is more, not less tolerance-not the tolerance of indifference, but the tolerance of honest respect for divergent convictions and the determination of all that such divergent opinions be heard without administrative censorship. I try my best in the classroom to expound and defend my faith, when it is relevant, as honestly and persuasively as I can. But I can do so only because many of my colleagues are expounding and defending their contrasting faiths, or skepticisms, as openly and honestly as I am mine." A professor of philosophy! Question: What is the 1) ethical, 2) philosophical, or 3) epistemological argument for requiring continued tolerance of ideas whose discrediting it is the purpose of education to effect? What ethical code (in the Bible? in Plato? Kant? Hume?) requires "honest respect" for any divergent conviction?

William F. Buckley Jr.
Seeing is of course very much a matter of verbalization. Unless I call my attention to what passes before my eyes, I simply won't see it. It is, as Ruskin says, 'not merely unnoticed, but in the full clear sense of the word, unseen.' If Tinker Mountain erupted, I'd be likely to notice. But if I want to notice the lesser cataclysms of valley life, I have to maintain in my head a running description of the present... when I see this way I analyze and pry. I hurl over logs and roll away stones; I study the bank a square foot at a time, probing and tilting my head. Some days when the mist covers the mountains, when the muskrats won't show and the microscope's mirror shatters, I want to climb up the blank blue dome as a man would storm the inside of a circus tent, wildly, dangling, and with a steel knife, claw a rent in the top, peep, and if I must, fall. But there is another kind of seeing that involves a letting go. When I see this way I sway transfixed and emptied. The difference between the two ways of seeing is the difference between walking with and without a camera. When I walk without a camera, my own shutter opens, and the moment's light prints on my own silver gut. It was sunny one evening last summer at Tinker Creek; the sun was low in the sky, upstream. I was sitting on the sycamore log bridge with the sunset at my back, watching the shiners the size of minnows who were feeding over the muddy bottom... again and again, one fish, then another, turned for a split second and flash! the sun shot out from its silver side. I couldn't watch for it. It was always just happening somewhere else... so I blurred my eyes and gazed towards the brim of my hat and saw a new world. I saw the pale white circles roll up, roll up like the world's turning, mute and perfect, and I saw the linear flashes, gleaming silver, like stars being born at random down a rolling scroll of time. Something broke and something opened. I filled up like a new wineskin. I breathed an air like light; I saw a light like water. I was the lip of a fountain the creek filled forever; I was ether, the leaf in the zephyr; I was flesh-flake, feather, bone. When I see this way, I see truly.

Annie Dillard