the will to act is a renewable resource.
- Former Vice President and Senator Al Gore, 14 December 2006
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the will to act is a renewable resource.
There was a little coffee left. I drank half of it. If I always drank just half the remainder, it would never run out.
[...]
I drank the last of the coffee. Half each time was only a theory. Like a tree falling soundlessly in the woods.
What we need to do is create an environment where you are not only embarrassed but ashamed at a cocktail party to chuckle and say, "I was never good at math and science." What if I said, "No, I never read that book. I was never good at nouns and verbs"?
Indecision is the key to flexibility.- Janis "Pete" Petersons, in Break No Bones by Kathy Reichs
To define force – it is that x that turns anybody who is subjected to it into a thing. Exercised to the limit, it turns man into a thing in the most literal sense: it makes a corpse out of him.
Time's like wine and love. You can have it or lack it, lose it or abuse it, but you can't waste it.
People who don't vote have no line of credit with people who are elected and thus pose no threat to those who act against our interests.
I know that whatever is published in a book — correct or incorrect — will most certainly become public knowledge. This is why so many wrong ideas are popular among people.- Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon (Maimonides, also known as "the Rambam"), in Letter on Martyrdom (translation by Abraham Halkin). The Rambam lived in the 12th century: surely in these days he would add, whatever is published in newspapers and in magazines and on the Web,...
We see only what we know.
The bees build in the crevices
Of loosening masonry, and there
The mother birds bring grubs and flies.
My wall is loosening; honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty; somewhere
A man is killed or a house burned.
Yet no clear fact to be discerned:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.
A barricade of stone or of wood
Some fourteen days of civil war
Last night they trundled down the road
That dead young soldier in his blood:
Come build in the empty nest of the stare.
We have fed the heart on fantasies,
The heart's grown brutal from the fare,
More substance in our enmities
Than in our love; O honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.