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M Quotes

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All M Quotes

“Meeks was telling him about the value of work. He said that it had been his personal experience that if you wanted to get ahead, you had to work. He said this was the law of life and it was no way to get around it because it was inscribed on the human heart like love thy neighbour. He said these two laws were the team that worked together to make the world go round and that any individual who wanted to be a success and win the pursuit of happiness, that was all he needed to know.”

“Meenoo decided this was a good moment to remind his human staff that he was missing something in his life. Eileen and Katy's eyes were on each other when Meenoo jumped up onto the table, giving them both a start. He went to Eileen and put his left front paw on the paper she was holding in her hand, lowering it to the table: He'd chosen which human was going to have the privilege of feeding him. “Frickin' fleabag”, muttered Eileen. Katy tried to conceal a smile. “Ah, but you're so cute”, said Eileen, rubbing him under his chin.”

“Meestal luistert hij voor hij naar bed gaat nog even naar muziek, maar vandaag heeft hij daar geen zin in. Hij bladert in het in wasdoek ingebonden schrift, leest willekeurige notities uit het verleden. De dagen rijgen zich aaneen, de tijd vliedt, week na week, op zondagen is de datum in rood gemarkeerd. Hij is ijverig geweest, bijna dagelijks staat genoteerd dat hij een paar regels heeft geschreven. Helaas ook vaak, veel te vaak, dat het werk hem zwaar valt, dat hij geen zin heeft, dat hij maar moeilijk opschiet. Na het korte bericht over het werk elke morgen volgen de gebeurtenissen van de dag. Bezoekers, uitstapjes, maaltijden met Katja en de kinderen, wandelingen, theaterbezoek, lectuur en correspondentie. Zijn stemmingen, zijn lijden. Zijn lichaam reageert gespannen op de verplichtingen van het leven, met pijnen en verteringsproblemen. Het leven is nu eenmaal vaak moeilijk te verteren. Waarom schrijft hij dat allemaal op? Voor het nageslacht? Onwaarschijnlijk, de notities hebben geen enkele literaire waarde. Niemand heeft de schriften ooit gelezen, ook Katja en de kinderen niet. De dagboeken uit zijn jeugd heeft hij jaren geleden al verbrand, en ook wat zich sindsdien heeft opgehoopt zal hij op een dag in het vuur gooien. Niettemin zit hij avond aan avond aan zijn bureau om de vervliegende dag vast te houden. Rekenschap afleggen tegenover zichzelf, dat is het waarschijnljk, verplichte zelfobservatie. En een steun in moeilijke tijden, ook dat.”

“Meet actual famous trans writer. Feel indicted when famous trans writer says that they think all trans people want to be celebrities. That the drive to celebrity is an endemic problem that fractures trans communities. That we are all so alone for so long, the only way to survive is to nurture a private sense of specialness and uniqueness—all the while fearing that this sense of specialness is our only lifejacket as we swim in a culture where tokenization tells us that we must be the only one, the fiercest, most brutal one, the special one.”

“Meet Dr. Timothy Dembowski, an esteemed chiropractor and clinic director from Atlanta, GA. With a genuine passion for helping people and promoting natural healing, he takes pride in offering alternatives to drugs and surgery. Beyond his professional pursuits, Dr. Dembowski is an avid sports fan, an outdoor enthusiast, and a devoted family man. His adventurous spirit has taken him to various corners of the world, including stunning destinations like St. John's Virgin Island and St. Bart's.”

“Meet me here Speak my name I am not your enemy I am your teacher I may even be your friend Let us tell our truth together, you and I My name is anger: I say you have been wronged My name is shame: my story is your hidden pain My name is fear: my story is vulnerability My name is resentment: I say things should have been different My name is grief My name is depression My name is heartache My name is anxiety I have many names And many lessons I am not your enemy I am your teacher”

“Meet Me In Toyland by Stewart Stafford Santa handed me the keys to Toyland, And, placing them squarely in the palm of my hand, He bid me go and have lots of fun, With all kinds of everyone. I skipped across the gingerbread bridge, Yuletide coffee flowing down from the ridge, To a Christmas tree consisting of mint, Lit all around by falling star glint. At the frosting gates of Castle St Nicholas, Silver snake tinsel began to hiss, As polar bears to a clockwork orchestra danced, With elves as their partners gleefully entranced. Multitudes of children whooped and cheered, Forgetting all their doubts and fears, Celebrating their gifts of toys, With every kind of girl and boy. Alas, our midwinter joy came to an end, And I tearfully bid adieu to all my new friends, And took a shooting star comet home, Across the Northern Lights in the sky’s dome. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”