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Quote by Ross Meador

“It sucks to be an orphan. Now what do we do? What is Plan B? For us, the answer was to find a new family that would provide not just the material benefits of food, shelter, and education, but also the intangible benefits that come with the love of a family.”

Quote by Ross Meador

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Ross Meador

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“Ми не вважаємо за доцільне заперечувати цінності російської культури. Толстой, Достоєвський і Чехов були великі письменники. Поезія Блока і Пастернака, музика Чайковського й Шостаковича заслужено має світовий розголос. Але не робіть їх нашими рідними. Ми шануємо вершину російської поезії - Пушкіна рівно в такій же мірі, як вершину портуґальської поезії - Камойнша, а Толстого - як Фльобера або Драйзера. І цінностями російської культури не закривайте нам того факту, що поки росіяни не визнають нашого права на абсолютно самостійне й незалежне від них ні політично, ні господарчо, ні культурно існування - вони наші вороги.”

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Book:Твердий ґрунт: зариси українського себепізнання
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“Democracy on Drugs, Sonnet (Operation Opium) Revolution a day keeps corruption away, freethinking days prevent genocidal nights. Citizens without brain leads to democracy on drugs, paranoia is lifeblood for power-hungry parasites. Parasites thrive on gaslighting neighbors, peaceful coexistence is a threat to political power. Politicians remain safe through war and drought, it's the people who pay with blood, money and tears. Parasites don't have nationality, parasites don't have religion, parasites only have a bottomless hunger to keep the throne by calculated cleansing. Nationalism has nothing to do with culture, fundamentalism has nothing to do with religion. Win a war, lose a war, politicians lose nothing, living off domesticated sheep comatosed by opium.”

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Book:Iftar-e Insaniyat: The First Supper
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“I looked left and right. The moment before the engagement was an unforgettable picture. In shell craters against the enemy line, which was still being forked over and over by the fire-storm, lay the battalions of attackers, clumped together by company. At the sight of the dammed-up masses of men, the breakthrough appeared certain to me. But did we have the strength and the stamina to splinter also the enemy reserves and rend them apart? I was confident. The decisive battle, the last charge, was here. Here the fates of nations would be decided, what was at stake was the future of the world. I sensed the weight of the hour, and I think everyone felt the individual in them dissolve, and fear depart.”

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Book:Storm of Steel
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“Starvation stalked the Australians. It hid in each man's every act and every thought. Against it they could proffer only their Australian wisdom which was really no more than opinions emptier than their bellies. They tried to hold together with their Australian dryness and their Australian curses, their Australian memories and their Australian mateship. But suddenly Australia meant little against lice and hunger and beri-beri, against thieving and beatings and yet ever more slave labour. Australia was shrinking and shrivelling, a grain of rice was so much bigger now than a continent, and the only things that grew daily larger were the men's battered, drooping slouch hats, which now loomed like sombreros over their emaciated faces and their empty dark eyes, eyes that already seemed to be little more than black-shadowed sockets waiting for worms.”

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Book:The Narrow Road to the Deep North
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