A Quote by Maddie Marlow
We left our homes and moved to Nashville as teenagers, and suddenly, we were on our own. We knew all we wanted to do in the world was write and sing... and the only way that would happen would be to jump, but you still get scared or sure you've done a dumb thing.
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There is a tension between our desire to get our kids to turn out a particular way versus letting them develop to be their own person. If there were a pill that would make my child turn out the way I wanted, I'm not sure I'd take it.
I would like to try to write poetry that would do everything I wanted poems to do, but also be readable by any person. I didn't know if this was possible, but I suddenly knew, in that few-times-in-a-lifetime sort of way, that this would be my life's search.
The class warfare was in the script as well. It establishes what the world is like and what would happen if we really had two zones that were left and everybody had to survive using these two areas. What would our society to do with that set up? I wanted the state of world, in my mind, how it would actually realistically unfold. I drew that from what was in the script.
If liberals were prevented from ever again calling Republicans dumb, they would be robbed of half their arguments. To be sure, they would still have racist, fascist, homophobe, ugly, and a few other highly nuanced arguments in the quiver. But the loss of dumb would nearly cripple them.
There was only so much space between us, not even a real distance if measured in miles or feet or even inches, all the things that told you how far you'd come or had left to go. But it was a big space, if only for me. And as I moved forward to him covering it, he waited there on the other side. It was only the last little bit I has to go, but in the end, I knew it would be all I would truly remember. So as I kissed him, bringing this summer and everything else full circle, I let myself fall, and was not scared of the ground I knew would rise up to meet me.
If you knew that only a few would care that you came, would you still come? If you knew that those you loved would laugh in your face, would you still care? If you knew that the tongues you made would mock you, the mouths you made would spit at you, the hands you made would crucify you, would you still make them? Christ did.
I always wanted to come into the spotlight. I always had dreams and plans of doing my own thing and creating my own image, so it came a little sooner than I thought it would but this is still something I knew I would be going through and would have to experience.
My colleagues and I were always having the same conversation in the teachers lunchroom about books we wanted our students to read, a field trip we knew would really bring a subject matter to life... And most of us would go into our own pockets to buy just paper and pencils.
We all faced painful ethical challenges before we even knew how to spell our names. There were tough choices. Tradeoffs. Confusing signals regarding how to live one's life. And here we are now, today, still struggling. Still trying to sort things out. Still trying to work our way through life effectively. About the only thing that has changed is the scope of the problem. There's more at stake now. And we're in a position, as grownups, to do a lot more-good or bad-for ourselves, our organization, our world. But we still must wrestle with our imperfect ethics.
If I knew you and you knew me- If both of us could clearly see, And with an inner sight divine The meaning of your heart and mine I'm sure that we would differ less And clasp our hands in friendliness: Our thoughts would pleasantly agree, If I knew you and you knew me.
Nature proceeds by blunders; that is its way. It is also ours. So if we have blundered by regarding consciousness as a blunder, why make a fuss over it? Our self-removal from this planet would still be a magnificent move, a feat so luminous it would bedim the sun. What do we have to lose? No evil would attend our departure from this world, and the many evils we have known would go extinct along with us. So why put off what would be the most laudable masterstroke of our existence, and the only one?
Jesus modelled that we don’t need to talk about everything we’ve done. It’s like He’s saying, what if we were just to do awesome, incredible stuff together while we’re here on earth and the fact that only He knew would be enough? If we did, we wouldn’t get confused about who was really making things happen. Not surprisingly, we’d get a lot more done too, because we wouldn’t care who’s looking or taking credit. All that energy would be funnelled into awesomeness.
Da, hes waiting for me to tell the two of you our news first, then he'll join me." He cocked a dark brow at her. "And why would he not come to your mother and me first and ask permission to handfast with you, as is the honorable thing to do?" She cocked her own brow, mirroring his expression perfectly. "Because he's not stupid. Anyone with any sense would be scared of you two. But even scared to death, he wanted to come with me. I wouldn't let him. I knew I needed to talk to you alone first.
I would say the only thing I may change is that my whole family could live in Louisiana. That would be nice if all our houses were a block away from each other. That, to me, would be the best thing in the entire world.
I've never written anything that I haven't wanted to write again. I want to, and still am, writing 'A Few Good Men' again. I didn't know what I was doing then, and I'm still trying to get it right. I would write 'The Social Network' again if they would let me, I'd write 'Moneyball' again. I would write 'The West Wing' again.
If men lived like men indeed, their houses would be temples -- temples which we should hardly dare to injure, and in which it would make us holy to be permitted to live; and there must be a strange dissolution of natural affection, a strange unthankfulness for all that homes have given and parents taught, a strange consciousness that we have been unfaithful to our fathers honor, or that our own lives are not such as would make our dwellings sacred to our children, when each man would fain build to himself, and build for the little revolution of his own life only.
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