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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“Why Westerners are so obsessed with "saving" Africa, and why this obsession so often goes awry? Western countries should understand that Africa’s development chances and social possibilities remain heavily hindered due to its overall mediocre governance. Africa rising is still possible -- but first Africans need to understand that the power lies not just with the government, but the people. I do believe, that young Africans have the will to "CHANGE" Africa. They must engage their government in a positive manner on issues that matters -- I also realize that too many of the continent’s people are subject to the kinds of governments that favor ruling elites rather than ordinary villagers and townspeople. These kind of behavior trickles down growth. In Zimbabwe Robert Mugabe is the problem. In South Africa the Apartheid did some damage. The country still wrestles with significant racial issues that sometimes leads to the murder of its citizens. In Ethiopia, Somalia and Kenya the world’s worst food crisis is being felt. In Libya the West sends a mixed messages that make the future for Libyans uncertain. In Nigeria oil is the biggest curse. In Liberia corruption had make it very hard for the country to even develop. Westerners should understand that their funding cannot fix the problems in Africa. African problems can be fixed by Africans. Charity gives but does not really transform. Transformation should come from the root, "African leadership." We have a PHD, Bachelors and even Master degree holders but still can't transform knowledge. Knowledge in any society should be the power of transformation. Africa does not need a savior and western funds, what Africa needs is a drive towards ownership of one's destiny. By creating a positive structural system that works for the majority. There should be needs in dealing with corruption, leadership and accountability.”

“Why? What kind of man would pleasure his woman by hurting her.' Angus paced across the path. ''Tis a man's duty, nay, his privilege, to give his woman all the pleasure she can bear. She should be panting and writhing with pleasure.' Emma remained silent, staring at him. Did she not believe him? He walked toward her. 'A real man would take all night if need be to make sure his woman was fully sated. She should be screaming that she canna endure any more.' Emma's eyes widened. 'It should be a man's greatest pleasure to see his woman shuddering in the throes of passion.' She took a deep breath and shifted her weight from one foot to another. He paced back and forth. 'Only when she is begging for him should a man see to his own needs. And he should never, ever harm her.' He stopped in front of her 'Am I totally wrong in this?' 'No,' she squeaked.”

“Why, when people are leaving their partners because they're having an affair with someone else, do they think it will seem better to pretend there is no one else involved? Do they think it will be less hurtful for their partners to think they just walked out because they couldn't stand them any more and then had the good fortune to meet some tall Omar Sharif-figure with a gentleman's handbag two weeks afterwards while the ex-partner is spending his evenings bursting into tears at the sight of the toothbrush mug? It's like those people who invent a lie as an excuse rather than the truth, even when the truth is better than the lie.”

“Why, whenever the morning broke and the sun extended its arms between the dirty alleys of the suburbs, you were that obnoxious face and you played the role of a poisonous bullet penetrating the eyes of persons who usually await you in the streets of the city? where did that soft petal which you had guarded between your palms Throughout the night hide? How did you become a desolate forest encircled by woodsmen from every direction? Why did your whispers which you had sent slowly to remove the braids of your sweetheart's hair tuft by tuft turn into an annoying scream?”

“Why who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know nothing else but miracles, whether they be animals feeding in the fields, Or, birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; These, with the rest, one and all, are to me, miracles.”

“Why...? Why didn't you say anything? I know that you were hiding something. But I never asked. I didn't think I needed to. I trusted you to tell me when you really needed help. All you have to do is say it... and no matter when, no matter what, I'd be there to save you. You can at least count on me when you're going through a tough time! You're not going to get away scot-free the next time you even think that you're a bother! You have absolutely no idea just how much I love you!”

“Why- why do any of this?' He leaned in closer, so close that I had to tip my head back to see him. 'Because your human joy fascinates me- the way you experience things, in your life span, so wildly and deeply and all at once, is... entrancing. I'm drawn to it, even when I know I shouldn't be, even when I try not to be.' Because I was human, and I would grow old and- I didn't let myself get that far as he came closer still. Slowly, as if giving me time to pull away, he brushed his lips against my cheek. Soft and warm and heartbreakingly gentle. It was hardly more than a caress before he straightened. I hadn't moved from the moment his mouth had met my skin. 'One day- one day there will be answers for everything,' he said, releasing my hand and stepping away. 'But not until the time is right. Until its safe.' In the dark, his tone was enough to know that his eyes were flecked with bitterness. He left me, and I took a gasping breath, not realising I'd been holding it. Not realising that I craved his warmth, his nearness, until he was gone.”

“Why? Why was it that in cases of real love the one who is left does not more often follow the beloved by suicide? Only because the living must bury the dead? Because of the measured rites that must be fulfilled after a death? Because it is as though the one who is left steps for a time upon a stage and each second swells to an unlimited amount of time and he id watched by many eyes? Because there is a function he must carry out? Or perhaps, when there is love, the widowed must stay for the resurrection of the beloved - so that the one who has gone is not really dead, but grows and is created for a second time in the soul of the living? Why?”

“Why? Why were most big things unladylike? Charlotte had once explained to her why. It was not that ladies were inferior to men; it was that they were different. Their mission was to inspire others to achievement rather than to achieve themselves. Indirectly, by means of tact and a spotless name, a lady could accomplish much. But if she rushed into the fray herself, she would be first censured, then despised, and finally ignored. Poems had been written to illustrate this point.”

“Why will Gen Z and those immersed in youth culture wait in line for hours at Supreme for a new product to drop? Because they want to be in the line. The line is the new community and those who wait in line earn a seat at a very elite table. For brands to succeed with Gen Z, they need to create a sense of belonging or their competition will.”

“Why will it not work. What magic word made it work. Who is the keeper of that word. What did it profit Him to switch this one off. What a contraption it is. How did it ever run. What spark ran it. Grand little machine. Set up just so. Receiving the spark, it jumped to life. What put out that spark? What a sin it would be. Who would dare. Ruin such a marvel. Hence is murder anathema. God forbid I should ever commit such a grievous—”

“Why will we struggle to attain, and strive, When all we gain is but an empty dream?-- Better, unto my thinking, doth it seem To end it all and let who will survive; To find at last all beauty is but dust; That love and sorrow are the very same; That joy is only suffering's sweeter name; And sense is but the synonym of lust. Far better, yea, to me it seems to die; To set glad lips against the lips of Death-- The only thing God gives that comforteth, The only thing we do not find a lie.”

“Why wish for something that will never be? It ends in nothing but heartbreak. We wish, then we think about how things would be if our wishes came true. And we feel happy thinking about those things. But then we wake up and realise that our wishes don’t have wings. And it hurts because all the happiness that we thought of, was never real. Hold on to what you have, try to find your happiness in what is, rather than what should or could have been.”

“Why won't you be friends with me?" To Cassandra's chagrin, the question came out plaintive, almost childish. She looked down and rearranged the folds of her skirts, fidgeting with the crystal beads. "My lady," he murmured, but she refused to look at him. One of his hands came to the side of her face to angle it upward. It was the first time he'd ever touched her. His fingers were strong but gentle, slightly cool against her hot cheek, and it felt so amazingly good that she trembled. She couldn't move or speak, only stared up into his lean, slightly wolfish face. A trick of moonlight had turned his blue-green eyes iridescent. "That you'd even ask..." His thumb brushed over her skin in a slow stroke, and her breath stopped and started too fast, sounding like a tiny hiccup. There was no mistaking the experience in his touch, sending pleasure-chills down the back of her neck and all along her spine. "Do you really want to be friends?" His voice had softened into dark velvet. "Yes," she managed to say. "No, you don't.”

“Why won't you believe it? she asked. Because I've been to his house, said the boy. So have I, and I didn't see anything to make me think he'd been taken by force. He left because he wanted to. No, she heard the boy say. If he'd left of his own accord, he would have brought his books. Books are heavy, said Mary-Sue, and besides you can always buy new ones. . . . No, I'm not talking about those books, I'm talking about his books, said the boy. What do you mean his books? said Mary-Sue. The ones he wrote and published. He wouldn't have left those behind even if the world was coming to an end.”

“Why won't you train with Cassian?' Nesta's spine locked up. 'Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?' 'Azriel?' 'Him, or the blond one who won't shut up.' 'If you're referring to Mor-' 'And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.' 'It could make you strong-' 'There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.' 'You said you wanted our enemies dead. Why not kill them yourself?' She inspected her nails. 'Why bother when someone else can do it for me?”

“Why won't they let a year die without bringing in a new one on the instant, can't they use birth control on time? I want an interregnum. The stupid years patter on with unrelenting feet, never stopping - rising to little monotonous peaks in our imaginations at festivals like New Year's and Easter and Christmas - But, goodness, why need they do it?”