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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“The days of passengers sitting still during plane hijackings ended with 9/11. Before then, the worst that would have happened was that you'd probably spend a few days on a runway in a banana republic while the hijackers made their demands. On September 11th, 2001, it was just fireballs of instant death as the planes got deliberately crashed by the terrorists. From that point on, passivity was never an option again.”

“The days of television as we knew it growing up are over. You have a bigger, wider world audience on the Internet, larger than any American television series. People don't watch television in the same context as before. Nowadays they watch their television on the Internet at their convenience. That's the whole wave, and it's now - not the future.”

“The days of the Mosaic creation are not to be strictly construed as implying the same length of time which is at present occupied by a single revolution of our globe, but PERIODS of a much longer extent.”

“The days passed in a dream. I pictured our reunion again and again, played it out in my mind over and over until I’d almost worn a groove in my thoughts, so deep that it seemed the only thing I could think of was our reunion. Anticipation is a gift. Perhaps there is none greater. Anticipation is born of hope. Indeed it is hope’s finest expression. In hope’s loss, however, is the greatest despair.”

“The days were brief and attenuated and the season appeared to be fixed - neither summer nor winter, spring nor fall. A thermal haze of inexpressible sweetness, though bearing tiny bits of grit or mica, had eased into the Valley from the industrial region to the north and there were nights when the sun set at the western horizon as if it were sinking through a porous red mass, and there were days when a hard-glaring moon like bone remained fixed in a single position, prominent in the sky. ("Family")”

“The days were sinking into the summery sunshine, flowery blossom, twinkling of colorful butterflies, buzzing bees, and happy singing of birds; while the nights kept charming with warm winds under the clear skies full of stars, mysteriously shining from incomprehensible spaces of the boundless Universe.”

“The days when he had taken insults passively had passed, as had the days when he would melt in tears. He had never understood what made the others do it, only that he was somehow apart from them, somehow differ- ent, and that he would never fit in. From the time Serena had first held him after it happened, when he was only five, his mother had counseled patience. "Ignore them," she said. "Deny them the satisfaction of seeing you rise in anger." She too had suffered this way. "Pay no attention to them. They are only jealous of your noble birth." She had tried to soften their in- sults. "When they call you half-breed you must remem- ber what it really means, that you are the best of two worlds, the best of the French and the best of the Tuareg." Her advice felt warm and wise while he was on her lap, but evaporated quickly in the schoolyard. His patience only drove his tormentors to greater creativity in their taunts, and then they accused him of cowardice, of being a sissy. If he cried it drove them to new heights of viciousness. And then one day when Moussa was eight Henri had seen his bruised cheek and asked about it, and Moussa had poured out his sorrow and his dilemma. "Your mother is right in her way," Henri agreed after listening, "but just now I think they need a good thrashing. You need to teach them a lesson. I wish it weren't so, but they respect only strength." After that Moussa tried hard not to forget his mother's advice, but he found that fists often worked better. At first he lost most of the fights, but a bloody nose from fighting back felt better to him than a bloody nose from doing nothing. And with practice, along with the instruction he received from his father and Gascon, he got better. Before long the students learned to taunt him at their own peril, for even if they might finally beat him, they would pay a heavy price.”

“The days when the words Hollywood actor framed Ronald Reagan like bunny fingers as an ID tag and an implied insult seem far-off and quaint: nearly everybody in politics - candidate, consultant, pundit, and Tea Party crowd extra alike - is an actor now, a shameless ham in a hoked-up reality series that never stops.”