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H Quotes

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All H Quotes

“Here, indeed, we encounter a curious phenomenon: the relevant mental processes, when seen in the mass, are more familiar, more accessible to our consciousness than they can ever be in the individual. In the individual only the aggression of the super-ego makes itself clearly heard, when tension arises, in the form of reproaches, while the demands themselves often remain unconscious in the background. When brought fully into consciousness, they are seen to coincide with the precepts of the current cultural super-ego. At this point there seems to be a regular cohesion, as it were, between the cultural development of the mass and the personal development of the individual. Some manifestations and properties of the super-ego can thus be recognized more easily by its behaviour in the cultural community than by its behaviour in the individual.”

“Here- instead of the estuaries and enormous sweeps of grass as in her marsh- clear water flowed as far as she could see through a bright and open cypress forest. Brilliant white herons and storks stood among the water lilies and floating plants so green they seemed to glow. Hunched up on cypress knees as large as easy chairs, they ate pimento-cheese sandwiches and potato chips, grinning as geese glided just below their toes.”

“Here is a body of Christ.' The priest put a wafer into the mouth of the first person on the right of the altar. I lurked through the red curtain, preparing a thick line of amphetamine on the edge of the confessional. 'Amen.' I swallowed the body of God in the ritual of holy communion. Speed disappeared in my right nostril. The pressure struck straight away in my brain, sending me somewhere over the altar and beyond holy figures of the saints. The bell was tolling. Organs played in the background. People were singing a holy song. I could feel my hair rise up to reach heaven at that holy moment. I was high. I was a High Priest!”

“Here is a boy who was waiting to be punished. But then, unexpectedly, he finds that his fault has been overlooked or forgiven and at once the world reappears in brilliant colors, full of delightful prospects. Here is a soldier who was waiting, with a heavy heart, to suffer and die in battle. But suddenly the luck has changed. There is news! The war is over and everyone bursts out singing! He will go home after all! The sparrows in the plowland were crouching in terror of the kestrel. But she has gone; and they fly pell-mell up the hedgerow, frisking, chattering and perching where they will.”

“Here is a children's film made for the world we should live in, rather than the one we occupy. A film with no villains. No fight scenes. No evil adults. No fighting between the two kids. No scary monsters. No darkness before the dawn. A world that is benign. A world where if you meet a strange towering creature in the forest, you curl up on its tummy and have a nap.”

“Here is a detailed report from the Walter Reed pathology lab. Their examination was most helpful in giving us a lead for identification." The President looked at him in surprise. "You identified them?" "It was the analysis of the borscht paste that opened the door." "Borscht what?" "You recall that the Dade County coroner fixed death by hypothermia, or freezing?" "Yes." "Well, borscht paste is a godawful food supplement given to Russian cosmonauts. The stomachs of the three corpses were loaded with the stuff." "You're telling me that Raymond LeBaron and his crew were exchanged for three dead Soviet cosmonauts?" Emmett nodded. "We were even able to put a name on them through a defector, a former flight surgeon with the Russian space program. He'd examined each of them on several occasions." "When did he defect?" "He came over to our side in August of '87." "A little over two years ago." "That's correct," Emmett acknowledged. "The names of the cosmonauts found in LeBaron's blimp are Sergei Zochenko, Aleksandr Yudenich, and Ivan Ronsky. Yudenich was a rookie, but Zochenko and Ronsky were both veterans with two space flights apiece.”

“Here is a fact: someday you will die. What will you do with this incredible gift that is your life? Do you want to get to the end of the road and wish you had strived more, accomplished more, and loved more? To do these things you will have to take chances, demonstrate courage, and commit in a way that allows you to be flexible but never allows you to quit on yourself.”

“Here is a fearful enemy of God and man — the liquor traffic; it makes ruthless war upon the people; it blasts and destroys their homes as with pestilence and fire; it kills savagely, cruelly, more than a hundred thousand of them every year; robbing them first and driving wives and children to rain and despair.”

“Here is a good way for the world to make a good progress: Let the less clever nations learn good things from the more clever nations!”

“Here is a historical fact that somehow gets overlooked, and might seem controversial, but it just simply is true: The Beastie Boys should only be listened to by deaf people. Any other time it plays over speakers, it should be considered torture and an act of war. Even ducks, the songbirds of the feathered swimmers, hate The Beastie Boys, and consider them to be The Three Stooges of the musical world, with all of the vocal talent of Gilbert Gottfried.”

“Here is a kitchen improvement, in return for Peacock. For roasting or basting a chicken, render down your fat or butter with cider: about a third cider. Let it come together slowly, till the smell of cider and the smell of fat are as one. This will enliven even a frozen chicken.”

“Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college. And I realize some of you may be having trouble deciding whether I am kidding or not. So from now on I will tell you when I'm kidding. For instance, join the National Guard or the Marines and teach democracy. I'm kidding. We are about to be attacked by Al Qaeda. Wave flags if you have them. That always seems to scare them away. I'm kidding. If you want to really hurt your parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”