Linux Cookie: 764 of 1140 |
"The hottest places in Hell are reserved for those who, in times of moral
crisis, preserved their neutrality."
-- Dante
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Linux Cookie: 765 of 1140 |
"The medium is the message."
-- Marshall McLuhan
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Linux Cookie: 766 of 1140 |
"The medium is the massage."
-- Crazy Nigel
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Linux Cookie: 767 of 1140 |
"Show me a good loser, and I'll show you a loser."
-- Vince Lombardi, football coach
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Linux Cookie: 768 of 1140 |
"It might help if we ran the MBA's out of Washington."
-- Admiral Grace Hopper
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Linux Cookie: 769 of 1140 |
Refreshed by a brief blackout, I got to my feet and went next door.
-- Martin Amis, _Money_
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Linux Cookie: 770 of 1140 |
The sprung doors parted and I staggered out into the lobby's teak and flicker.
Uniformed men stood by impassively like sentries in their trench. I slapped
my key on the desk and nodded gravely. I was loaded enough to be unable to
tell whether they could tell I was loaded. Would they mind? I was certainly
too loaded to care. I moved to the door with boxy, schlep-shouldered strides.
-- Martin Amis, _Money_
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Linux Cookie: 771 of 1140 |
I ask only one thing. I'm understanding. I'm mature. And it isn't much to
ask. I want to get back to London, and track her down, and be alone with my
Selina -- or not even alone, damn it, merely close to her, close enough to
smell her skin, to see the flecked webbing of her lemony eyes, the moulding
of her artful lips. Just for a few precious seconds. Just long enough to
put in one good, clean punch. That's all I ask.
-- Martin Amis, _Money_
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Linux Cookie: 772 of 1140 |
"Love may fail, but courtesy will previal."
-- A Kurt Vonnegut fan
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Linux Cookie: 773 of 1140 |
New York is a jungle, they tell you. You could go further, and say that
New York is a jungle. New York *is a jungle.* Beneath the columns of
the old rain forest, made of melting macadam, the mean Limpopo of swamped
Ninth Avenue bears an angry argosy of crocs and dragons, tiger fish, noise
machines, sweating rainmakers. On the corners stand witchdoctors and
headhunters, babbling voodoo-men -- the natives, the jungle-smart natives.
And at night, under the equatorial overgrowth and heat-holding cloud
cover, you hear the ragged parrot-hoot and monkeysqueak of the sirens,
and then fires flower to ward off monsters. Careful: the streets are
sprung with pits and nets and traps. Hire a guide. Pack your snakebite
gook and your blowdart serum. Take it seriously. You have to get a
bit jungle-wise.
-- Martin Amis, _Money_
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