A Quote by Ken Livingstone

When I'm sifting the compost seed or pruning, I argue over issues in my head; I talk to myself. — © Ken Livingstone
When I'm sifting the compost seed or pruning, I argue over issues in my head; I talk to myself.
The seed of God's Word won't grow to fruitfulness without pruning for rest, quiet, and calm
They [anarchists] spring from a single seed, no matter the flowering of their ideas. The seed is liberty. And that is all it is. It is not a socialist seed. It is not a capitalist seed. It is not a mystical seed. It is not a determinist seed. It is simply a statement. We can be free. After that it’s all choice and chance.
I love tearing things out of the ground. I love digging and discarding. I love pruning. In fact, I love pruning so much that I once gave myself carpal-tunnel syndrome because I attacked a trumpet vine with so much dedication.
Some directors hand over portions of their movie to their head of department to the point where it's like, "I'm not going to talk to you about the costumes, but I'm going to let you talk to the expert." Rather than, "You want to talk stitching, let's talk stitching. You want to talk grade of leather? Let's."
I think, at some level, we see young people all over the country mobilizing around different issues, in which they're doing something that I haven't seen for a long time. And that is, they're linking issues together. You can't talk about police violence without talking about the militarization of society in general. You can't talk about the assault on public education unless you talk about the way in which capitalism defunds all public goods. You can't talk about the prison system without talking about widespread racism. You can't do that. They're making those connections.
This is the process of mental analysis, sifting through the selves, sifting through your thoughts, practicing mindfulness, learning to control thought.
I drank for about 25 years getting over the loss of my father and I took the anger out on myself. I did a good job at beating myself up at sometimes. I don't drink anymore but my alcoholic head occasionally says different. 'Nil By Mouth' was a love letter to my father because I needed to resolve some issues in order to be able to forgive him.
Producing quality compost is the most important job on the organic farm. A lot of the problems I see on farms I visit could be solved by making better compost.
I compost at home. I'm always taking old banana peels, eggshells, coffee beans, or whatever it is, and putting them in a compost bin and then using it in my backyard.
I have always kept notebooks and I go back to them over and over. They are my compost pile of ideas.
Team Hillary [Clinton] after everything came out the other night, they said, she just wants to talk about the issues. She wants to have a debate about the issues. Really, is that what their ads are about? Is that what the filth they peddle every day my candidate Donald Trump is about - they want to talk about the issues - lets talk about Obamacare its a disaster?
I'm serious. I've got to get people to realize that the government is full of it. Republicans and Democrats want to argue over stuff that's not important, like gay marriage or the war in Iraq or illegal immigration... When I run - if I run - we're going to talk about real issues like improving our schools, cleaning up our neighborhoods of drugs and crime and making Alabama a better place for all people.
The gardener knows how to turn garbage into compost. Therefore our anger, sadness, and fear is the best compost for our compassion.
As the brain matures, one thing that happens is the pruning of the synapses. Synaptic pruning does not occur willy-nilly; it depends largely on how any one brain pathway is used.
Strangely enough, as I explored these abandoned malls, I found myself acting like a kid all over again. At times jumping up on to nearby fountain ledges trying to balance myself as I became mesmerized all over again by the futuristic skylights that dangled fearlessly over my head.
I’ve blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. And maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. And I’m the one who nurtures it. I water it. I care for it.I nibble from its poison berries. I let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. I’ve done that. All by myself. All to myself.
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