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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“Who would appreciate such candor? No one. None of us really likes honesty. We prefer deception –but only when it is unabashedly flattering or artfully camouflaged. Groups seem to need to believe that they are superior to others and that they have a purpose greater than just passing along their genes to the next generation. Individuals seem to need similar delusions – about who they are and why they do what they do. They need heroes, however fraudulent… Studies show that people are more likely to accept the opinion of a confident con man than the cautious view of someone who actually knows what he is talking about. And professionals who form overconfident opinions on the basis of incorrect readings of the facts are more likely to succeed than their more competent peers who display greater doubt. What’s more, deception works best, according to studies by psychologists, when the person doing the deceiving is fool enough to be deceived, too; that is, when he believes his own lies. That is why incompetent leaders – who are naïve enough to fall for their own guff – are such a danger to civilized life. If they are modern leaders, they must also delude themselves into thinking they know how to make the world a better place. Invariably, the answers they propose to problems are ones that bubble up from their own vanity, the essence of which is to make the rest of the world look just like them!”

“Who would be an artist that was perfectly happy? Maybe nowadays, but when I grew up in the '60s, you had nobody in the art club who was popular. No cheerleaders in the art club. I was told that I couldn't be a painter by my first painting teacher. I said I wanted to go to Cooper and be an art student, and he said, "You'll be a waitress." It was really the strangely indifferent parenting.”

“Who would believe that a teacher who withholds the information students need to pass a course merely permitted them to fail? What if that teacher said, "I didn't cause them to fail; they did it on their own"? Would anyone accept that explanation or would they accuse the teacher of not merely permitting the students to fail, but actually causing them to fail? And what if the teacher argued that he actually planned and rendered the students' failure certain for a good reason—to uphold academic standards and show what a great teacher he is by demonstrating how necessary his information is for students to pass? Would not these admissions only deepen everyone's conviction that the teacher is morally and professionally wrong?”

“Who would Betsy be?" "That's my truck," he said. "You named it Betsy?" she asked. "For real?" Sawyer waved what was left of his cookie at her. "You have ducks on your pj's, don't judge." "And she was inspired by who?" Sydney said with a smirk, her eyes dropping to his lips when he turned to her. "Your first love?" "If I would've done that," he said softly, "her name would have been Squeak." Bam. Sidney's heart felt like it reached out and slammed against every possible surface at once.”

“Who would bury their dead here?' 'They didn't put them in the earth,' Cassian said, his voice oddly muffled, as if that thick air gobbled up any echo. 'These were water burials.' Nesta said, 'I'd rather be burned to ashes and cast to the wind then be left here.' 'Noted,' Cassian said. 'This is an evil place,' Azriel whispered. True fear shone in the shadowsinger's hazel eyes.”

“Who would care if I became pregnant, who would be scandalized? Aunty Eva, Anwar's flatmates. Omar would never know unless I wrote to him. Uncle Saleh was across the world. A few years back, getting pregnant would have shocked Khartoum society, given my father a heart attack, dealt a blow ti my mother's marriage, and mild, modern Omar, instead of beating me, would called me a slut. And now nothing, no one. This empty space was called freedom.”

“Who would condescend to strike down the mere things that he does not fear? Who would debase himself to be merely brave, like any common prizefighter? Who would stoop to be fearless--like a tree? Fight the thing that you fear. You remember the old tale of the English clergyman who gave the last rites to the brigand of Sicily, and how on his death-bed the great robber said, 'I can give you no money, but I can give you advice for a lifetime: your thumb on the blade, and strike upwards.' So I say to you, strike upwards, if you strike at the stars.”

“Who would endure life if it were not for the hope of death?”

“Who would guess," he teased, "that I'd ever see you on a rooftop with straw in your hair?" Kit giggled. "Are you saying I've turned into a crow?" "Not exactly." His eyes were intensely blue with merriment. "I can still see the green feathers if I look hard enough. But they've done their best to make you into a sparrow, haven't they?”