"I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China Aster! It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boy's games and work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy. And it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa. And I can only stay home and knit, like a poky old woman!"
Women do not love like thatAlıntı
He lied to me, and shall I for that reason loathe what I love, and what I worshipped, hate? I think we women do not love like that.
Bu yaz yanınızdan ayırmak istemeyeceğiniz kitapları sizin için bir araya getirdik.
💬 Siz olsanız bu listeden hangisiyle başlardınız?
But hold up for a minute: who is this “we” that’s always turning up in
critical writing? We is an escape hatch. We is cheap. We is a way of simultaneously sloughing off personal responsibility and taking on the mantle of easy authority. It’s the voice of the middlebrow male critic, the one who truly believes he knows how everyone else should think. We is corrupt. We is make-believe. The real question is this: can I love the art but hate the artist? Can you?
When I say “we,” I mean I. I mean you.
Even though I hate putting such labels on people, these individuals were divided into two groups: those who were 'insane' and those who were 'unwise.' Those whom this world called 'insane' were considered a danger to society. On the other hand, those whom this world called 'unwise' were forced into service in various ways.
Nefret
"There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer thin layers that fill my complex. If the word hate was engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles it would not equal one one-billionth of the hate I feel for humans at this micro-instant for you."(Kompleksimi dolduran incecik katmanlar hâlinde 387.44 milyon mil basılı devre var. Bu yüz milyonlarca milin her bir nanoangstromuna 'nefret' kelimesi kazınmış olsaydı, şu mikro saniyede sizlere karşı hissettiğim nefretin milyarda birine bile eşit olamazdı.)
‘I hate and I love. And if you ask me how,
I do not know: I only feel it, and
I’m torn in two.’
Nefret ediyor ve seviyorum. Ve
sorarsan bana nasıl olduğunu,
Bilmiyorum: hissediyorum yalnızca ve
ikiye bölünüyorum.
