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Quote by Miss Ken

“F*** these men who don’t think we’re beautiful, because there are men who love us big babies!”

Quote by Miss Ken

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Miss Ken

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“In health meaning has encroached upon sound. Our intelligence domineers over our senses. But in illness, with the police off duty, we creep beneath some obscure poem by Mallarmé or Donne, some phrase in Latin or Greek, and the words give out their scent, and ripple like leaves, and chequer us with light and shadow, and then, if at last we grasp the meaning, it is all the richer for having travelled slowly up with all the bloom upon its wings.”

“I crave your gentle touch I crave your firm kiss And I’m happy we met You are what I want Exactly what I need Follow my lead I love your hazel eyes I love your sweet replies I love your cheerful highs Such a beautiful man Who has a simple plan To make me smile Bringing laughter To every ceiling tile Just follow my lead I love your hazel eyes I love your sweet replies You have a simple plan To make me smile Just follow my lead”

“Ordinarily to look at the sky for any length of time is impossible. Pedestrians would be impeded and disconcerted by a public sky-gazer. What snatches we get of it are mutilated by chimneys and churches, serve as a background for man, signify wet weather or fine, daub windows gold, and, filling in the branches, complete the pathos of dishevelled autumnal plane trees in London squares. Now, become as the leaf or the daisy, lying recumbent, staring straight up, the sky is discovered to be something so different from this that really it is a little shocking. This then has been going on all the time without our knowing it!—this incessant making up of shapes and casting them down, this buffeting of clouds together, and drawing vast trains of ships and waggons from North to South, this incessant ringing up and down of curtains of light and shade, this interminable experiment with gold shafts and blue shadows, with veiling the sun and unveiling it, with making rock ramparts and wafting them away—this endless activity, with the waste of Heaven knows how many million horse power of energy, has been left to work its will year in year out.”

“Well,” Sadi said in her matter-of-fact way, “the story goes that after the Creator had made all the plants and flowers in the world, he noticed that one flower, in particular, couldn’t quite keep its shape. It kept shifting and changing as if it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be or look like. Like it was trying to hide amongst the other flowers. The Creator didn’t want it to hide or be unsure of what it wanted it to be. He realized doing that over and over made it sick. So, he lovingly placed one of his hands on its petals and fused all its different forms into one. He told it that out of all the flowers in all the world it would be the strongest and most resilient, hence the reason it can bloom in the desert. Ever since then the flower has represented boldness to accept inevitable changes, that being different and unique is beautiful. It reminds us that the Creator made us all different, some more than others, but that doesn’t make us any less beautiful or worthy of acceptance and love.”