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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“That afternoon, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the remaining British men and women in the subcontinent sensed their time in the land rapidly slipping away. They weren’t alone and many Anglo-Indian, Armenian, Chinese, Jewish, Irish and Burmese communities who had flourished in India under colonial rule were also leaving. ‘It seems so tempting to stay on,’ wrote Keenan. “One is only 45 and there may be many years to come. However, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, I have decided not to serve on with India or Pakistan. We must think of our home in some very nice place in England and make a quick break with the East … India is no place for us now.”

“That afternoon he told me that the difference between human beings and animals was that human beings were able to dream while awake. He said the purpose of books was to permit us to exercise that faculty. Art, he said, was a controlled madness… He said books weren't made of themes, which you could write essays about, but of images that inserted themselves into your brain and replaced what you were seeing with your eyes.”

“That afternoon the sky was scattered with black clouds galloping in from the sea and clustering over the city. Flashes of lightening echoed on the horizon and a charged warm wind smelling of dust announced a powerful summer storm. When I reached the station I noticed the first few drops, shiny and heavy, like coins falling from heaven...Night seemed to fall suddenly, interrupted only by the lightning now bursting over the city, leaving a trail of noise and fury.”

“That afternoon was the first time I felt... I don't know how to describe it exactly. My head was in Dad's lap and all the happiness that I'd missed was being compressed into that moment. I looked up at him and I was no longer me. I was Mom, but not as I knew her. This wasn't her forcing her darkness on me, like a bag over my head. No, this was something else. I'd become Mom from many years ago. Dad felt it too, I could tell. Maybe it would have lasted longer if not for Edie, talking and talking, pressing and pressing. She wanted to take me back to the other mother. The one in the mental hospital who needed me brought to her, tied and quartered, like a sacrifice.”

“That ain't nothing to be proud of, man. I'm not going to say, like, I'm an angel. I've definitely did some things. I just... I don't know... it's kind of corny to do that sometimes, you know? I mention it a few times, but I don't go crazy with it. I ain't a coke rapper, na'mean? I wasn't no big drug dealer neither, B. You know what I mean? I made enough to get fly, keep a little stack in the crib... couple of stacks in the crib. But I wasn't crazy with it. So that s**t ain't... I always worked for somebody. I got some other n***a rich.”

“That air. The air afterwards. I wanted to breathe it in. It felt right to breathe it in. Because we were breathing them in, weren't we? And the building. We were breathing it all in. And I thought, there's a part of this that's actually a part of me now. I now have that responsibility. I am alive, and I am breathing, and I can do the things this dust can't do.”

“That Alaska has a very narrow maritime border between a foreign country, Russia, and on our other side, the land boundary that we have with - Canada. We have trade missions back and forth. We - we do - it's very important when you consider even national security issues with Russia as Putin rears his head and comes into the airspace of the United States of America where - where do they go? It's Alaska.”

“That all opposites—such as mass and energy, subject and object, life and death—are so much each other that they are perfectly inseparable, still strikes most of us as hard to believe. But this is only because we accept as real the boundary line between the opposites. It is, recall, the boundaries themselves which create the seeming existence of separate opposites. To put it plainly, to say that "ultimate reality is a unity of opposites" is actually to say that in ultimate reality there are no boundaries. Anywhere.”

“That all persons living in this province, who confess and acknowledge the one Almighty and eternal God, to be the Creator, Upholder and Ruler of the world; and that hold themselves obliged in conscience to live peaceably and justly in civil society, shall, in no ways, be molested or prejudiced for their religious persuasion, or practice, in manners of faith and worship, nor shall they be compelled, at any time, to frequent or maintain any religious worship, place or ministry whatever.”

“That all plants immediately and substantially stem from the element water alone I have learnt from the following experiment. I took an earthern vessel in which I placed two hundred pounds of earth dried in an oven, and watered with rain water. I planted in it a willow tree weighing five pounds. Five years later it had developed a tree weighing one hundred and sixty-nine pounds and about three ounces. Nothing but rain (or distilled water) had been added. The large vessel was placed in earth and covered by an iron lid with a tin-surface that was pierced with many holes. I have not weighed the leaves that came off in the four autumn seasons. Finally I dried the earth in the vessel again and found the same two hundred pounds of it diminished by about two ounces. Hence one hundred and sixty-four pounds of wood, bark and roots had come up from water alone. (1648) [A diligent experiment that was quantitatively correct only as far as it goes. He overlooked the essential role of air and photosynthesis in the growth process]”

“that alley stood like a thief stealing time, the world in front of me, looking straight at me, a beautiful crime which could only be punishable by death, hung as a thief for the crime of defiling minutes, 'for what reason might the defendant commit such a crime?' the only judge asks 'for the ultimate reason, for beauty, for passing, for eternity…..for my love had gone beyond madness beyond sanity beyond every attribute of gods earth sat absorbed in self destruction in sweet love in chaotic peace with all that glorious vision and insight swimming headlong through the mind, taking up the bag in the morning the tragic sky casting sideways glances below trees pulling on shoes those ghost-like fingers the holy emptiness seemingly there and immediate yet already gone hopeless and clumsy now rife with thick dust kicking up the death and dust of the living Sun, 'I'll write' but I didn't care maddened, more mad than ever, pure lonesomeness caught mid stride down the road, a tumultuous storm of present wanting to be all, all at once, the postman, the undertaker, the bus driver, the seaman, the fruit picker, the bandit, and hold every moment know it breath it, steal a some milk white steed and melt with anyone in the Mexican sun, prolongation of eternity the cold stare of the countless eyes conscious of every step given up to that endless facade of manners of proper and well delivered of simplicity in silence and fading slowly lulled gently back into that corner that lonely town of buried thought, high above in some lofty proscenium of sky and weeping like a child”

“that alley stood like a thief stealing time, the world in front of me, looking straight at me, a beautiful crime which could only be punishable by death, hung as a thief for the crime of defiling minutes, 'for what reason might the defendant commit such a crime?' the only judge asks 'for the ultimate reason, for beauty, for passing, for eternity…..for my love had gone beyond madness beyond sanity beyond every attribute of gods earth sat absorbed in self destruction in sweet love in chaotic peace with all that glorious vision and insight swimming headlong through the mind, taking up the bag in the morning the tragic sky casting sideways glances below trees pulling on shoes those ghost-like fingers the holy emptiness seemingly there and immediate yet already gone hopeless and clumsy now rife with thick dust kicking up the death and dust of the living Sun, 'I'll write' but I didn't care maddened, more mad than ever, pure lonesomeness caught mid stride down the road, a tumultuous storm of present wanting to be all, all at once, the postman, the undertaker, the bus driver, the seaman, the fruit picker, the bandit, and hold every moment know it breathe it, steal a some milk white steed and melt with anyone in the Mexican sun, prolongation of eternity the cold stare of the countless eyes conscious of every step given up to that endless facade of manners of proper and well delivered of simplicity in silence and fading slowly lulled gently back into that corner that lonely town of buried thought, high above in some lofty proscenium of sky and weeping like a child”