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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“Why is it that, despite having achieved previously undreamed-of miracles of progress, we seem more helpless in facing life than our less privileged ancestors were? The answer seems clear: while humankind collectively has increased its material powers a thousandfold, it has not advanced very far in terms of improving the content of experience.”

“Why is it we don’t intervene in the bureaucracy?” asks Chris Bobel, the gender studies scholar, who has noted that many young activists prefer “DIY activism” – making art, changing their own consumer habits, making their own products rather than buying corporate ones. They tell her, “We don’t want to be in bed with the enemy,” she says. “That’s not where change happens. That’s old-school activism. We’re all about DIY’”. Bobel sighs. “A lot of these activists weren’t even registered voters.”

“Why is it we love so fully what has washed up on the beaches of our hearts, those lost messages, lost friends, the daylight stars we never get to see? Bad luck never takes a vacation, my friend once wrote. It lies there among the broken shells and stones we collect, a story he would say begins with you, with me, a story that is forever lost among the backwaters of our lives, our endless fear of ourselves, and our endless need for hope, a story, perhaps an answer, a word suddenly on wing, the simple sound of a torn heart, or the unmistakable scent of the morning's fading moon.”

“Why is it we must suffer the loss of something so dear before we realize what a treasure we had? Why must the sun be darkened before we feel how genuinely impossible it is to live without its warmth? Why within the misery of absence does love grow by such bounds? Why must life be this way? It is a strange existence where such suffering makes us far better people.”

“Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get? At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.”

“Why is it when you fall in love with someone (and especially when you are trying extremely hard not to do so), the world seems to conspire against you in order to cause that person to be the only thing on your mind? It doesn't matter what you're doing: reading, driving, walking down the road. You just look up and, BANG, there is their name or some form of it. Then you smile, and you think of them. That's when you realize there isn't any way to get out of this one alive and unscathed, because it's already a battle that you've lost, and the war is going to rage on forever after.”

“Why is it you trust my daughter so much when others almost universally revile her?" "I consider their disdain for her to be a recommendation," he said. "She is a heretic." "She refused to join any of the devotaries because she did not believe in their teachings. Rather than compromise for the sake of appearances, she has been honest and has refused to make professions she does not believe. I find that a sign of honor.”