Amongst the highly placed
It is considered low to talk about food.
The fact is: they have
The lowly must leave this earth
Without having tasted
Any good meat.
For wondering where they come from and
Where they are going
The fine evenings find them
They have not yet seen
The mountains and the great sea
When their time is already up.
If the lowly do not
Think about what's low
They will never rise.
The bread of the hungry has
All been eaten
Meat has become unknown. Useless
The pouring out of the people's sweat.
The laurel groves have been
From the chimneys of the arms factories
The house-painter speaks of
Great times to come
The forests still grow.
The fields still bear
The cities still stand.
The people still breathe.
On the calendar the day is not
Every month, every day
Lies open still. One of those days
Is going to be marked with a cross.
The workers cry out for bread
The merchants cry out for markets.
The unemployed were hungry. The employed
Are hungry now.
The hands that lay folded are busy again.
They are making shells.
Those who take the meat from the table
Those for whom the contribution is destined
Those who eat their fill speak to the hungry
Of wonderful times to come.
Those who lead the country into the abyss
Call ruling too difficult
For ordinary men.
When the leaders speak of peace
The common folk know
That war is coming.
When the leaders curse war
The mobilization order is already written out.
Those at the top say: peace
Are of different substance.
But their peace and their war
Are like wind and storm.
War grows from their peace
Like son from his mother
Her frightful features.
Their war kills
Whatever their peace
Has left over.
On the wall was chalked:
They want war.
The man who wrote it
Has already fallen.
Those at the top say:
This way to glory.
Those down below say:
This way to the grave.
The war which is coming
Is not the first one. There were
Other wars before it.
When the last one came to an end
There were conquerors and conquered.
Among the conquered the common people
Starved. Among the conquerors
The common people starved too.
Those at the top say comradeship
Reigns in the army.
The truth of this is seen
In the cookhouse.
In their hearts should be
The selfsame courage. But
On their plates
Are two kinds of rations.
When it comes to marching many do not know
That their enemy is marching at their head.
The voice which gives them their orders
Is their enemy's voice and
The man who speaks of the enemy
Is the enemy himself.
It is night
The married couples
Lie in their beds. The young women
Will bear orphans.
General, your tank is a powerful vehicle
It smashes down forests and crushes a hundred men.
But it has one defect:
It needs a driver.
General, your bomber is powerful.
It flies faster than a storm and carries more than an elephant.
But it has one defect:
It needs a mechanic.
General, man is very useful.
He can fly and he can kill.
But he has one defect:
He can think.
Bertolt Brecht, "A German War Primer" [Deutsche Kriegsfibel] (1937), trans. Lee Baxendall in Poems, 1913-1956, p. 288
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion.
I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate.
All those moments will be lost in time,
like tears in rain.Time to die.
Batty, Blade Runner (1982)
One thing is for certain: there is no stopping them; the ants will soon be here. And I for one welcome our new insect overlords. I'd like to remind them that as a trusted TV personality, I can be helpful in rounding up others to toil in their underground sugar caves.
Kent Brockman, Deep Space Homer (1994)
Students are horrible, disgusting. Their rooms smell. They live together like rabbits in a warren. They eat and sleep together. They have beer fights, and they don't make their beds.
Veteran Ann Arbor Realtor Edward Sourvell [sic], LA Times (Money & Investing), August 21, 2005
I'm surprised you suggest I haven't a clue. I've been thinking about trust models, key management, and PKI since before there were any PKIs. I've picked up at least one or two clues along the way.
Phil Zimmerman, ZDNet, 5 aug 05
Given the existence
as uttered forth
in the public works of Puncher and Wattmann
of a personal God quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside time without extension who from the heights of divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves us dearly
with some exceptions for reasons unknown but time will tell and suffers like the divine Miranda with those who for reasons unknown
but time will tell are plunged in torment plunged in fire whose fire flames if that continues and who can doubt it will fire the
firmament that is to say blast hell to heaven so blue still and calm so calm with a calm which even though intermittent is better
than nothing but not so fast and considering what is more that as a result of the labors left unfinished crowned by the
Acacacacademy of Anthropopopometry of Essy-in-Possy of Testew and Cunard it is established beyond all doubt all other doubt than
that which clings to the labors of men that as a result of the labors unfinished of Testew and Cunnard it is established as
hereinafter but not so fast for reasons unknown that as a result of the public works of Puncher and Wattmann it is established
beyond all doubt that in view of the labors of Fartov and Belcher left unfinished for reasons unknown of Testew and Cunard left
unfinished it is established what many deny that man in Possy of Testew and Cunard that man in Essy that man in short that man in
brief in spite of the strides of alimentation and defecation wastes and pines wastes and pines and concurrently simultaneously what
is more for reasons unknown in spite of the strides of physical culture the practice of sports such as tennis football running
cycling swimming flying floating riding gliding conating camogie skating tennis of all kinds dying flying sports of all sorts autumn
summer winter winter tennis of all kinds hockey of all sorts penicillin and succedanea in a word I resume flying gliding golf over
nine and eighteen holes tennis of all sorts in a word for reasons unknown in Feckham Peckham Fulham Clapham namely concurrently
simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown but time will tell fades away I resume Fulham Clapham in a word the dead loss per
head since the death of Bishop Berkeley being to the tune of one inch four ounce per head approximately by and large more or less to
the nearest decimal good measure round figures stark naked in the stockinged feet in Connemara in a word for reasons unknown no
matter what matter the facts are there and considering what is more much more grave that in the light of the labors lost of Steinweg
and Peterman it appears what is more much more grave that in the light the light the light of the labors lost of Steinweg and
Peterman that in the plains in the mountains by the seas by the rivers running water running fire the air is the same and then the
earth namely the air and then the earth in the great cold the great dark the air and the earth abode of stones in the great cold
alas alas in the year of their Lord six hundred and something the air the earth the sea the earth abode of stones in the great deeps
the great cold on sea on land and in the air I resume for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis the facts are there but time will
tell I resume alas alas on on in short in fine on on abode of stones who can doubt it I resume but not so fast I resume the skull
fading fading fading and concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis on on the beard the
flames the tears the stones so blue so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the skull the skull in Connemara in spite of the
tennis the labors abandoned left unfinished graver still abode of stones in a word I resume alas alas abandoned unfinished the skull
the skull in Connemara in spite of the tennis the skull alas the stones Cunard (mêlée, final vociferations) tennis . .
. the stones . . . so calm . . . Cunard . . . unfinished . . .
Lucky's lament in Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett, 1952
"I'm nice ... don't be ... scared."
But it was a wolf and he wasn't nice.
"Um ... Mr. Per- ... Mr. Guy? I'm going to my Grandma's so ... so ... I wont talk to you, OK? I'll see you...later."
So she went and when she ... When she got there ... it wasn't her Grandma it was a FOX and ... and then she said "WHERE'S MY GRANDMA!? I WANT HER!!!"
So the fox said "YA-HA-HA! I'M GONNA EAT YOU!" and then ... then ... HE ATE HER *CHOMP*
Jeffrey Honeyman, Fall 1989
We have Ph.D.s here who know the stuff cold, and we don't believe it's possible to protect digital content.
Steve Jobs, Rolling Stone interview, December 3, 2003
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn
As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.
H.L. Mencken, "Bayard vs. Lionheart", Baltimore Evening Sun, July 26, 1920
[M]ostly, Americans reject torture because we are not satanic monster scum.
Sarah Vowell, NY Times, February 5, 2006
Since laws were made for every degree,
To curb vice on others, as well as me,
I wonder we han't better company,
Upon Tyburn Tree!
But gold from law can take out the sting;
And if rich men like us were to swing,
'Twould thin the land, such numbers to string
Upon Tyburn Tree!
John Gay (1685 – 1732), The Beggar's Opera, 1728
One of the things you learn as a college president is that if an undergraduate is wearing a tie and jacket on Thursday afternoon at three o'clock, there are two possibilities. One is that they're looking for a job and have an interview; the other is that they are an asshole.
Larry Summers, Interview with Walter Isaacson, July 19, 2011
Once, off the hump of Brazil I saw the ocean so darkened with blood it was black, and the sun fainting away over the lip of the sky. We'd put in at Fortaleza and a few of us had lines out for a bit of idle fishing. It was me had the first strike, a shark it was. Then there was another, and another shark again, til all about the sea was made of sharks, and more sharks still and no water at all. My shark had torn himself from the hook and the scent, or maybe the stain it was and him bleeding his life away, drove the rest of them mad. Then the beasts took to eating each other. In their frenzy, they ate at themselves. You could feel the lust of murder like a wind stinging your eyes, and you could smell the death, reeking up out of the sea.
Michael O'Hara (Orson Welles), The Lady from Shanghai, 1947