A Quote by A. J. Liebling

The science of booby-trapping has taken a good deal of the fun out of following hot on the enemy's heels. — © A. J. Liebling
The science of booby-trapping has taken a good deal of the fun out of following hot on the enemy's heels.
God help the teacher, if a man of sensibility and genius, when a booby father presents him with his booby son, and insists on lighting up the rays of science in a fellow's head whose skull is impervious and inaccessible by any other way than a positive fracture with a cudgel.
I'm just going to stay here, in the darkness under the arch. I can hear you all out there, trip-trapping, trip-trapping over my bridge. Oh yes, I can hear you. But I'm not coming out.
Reality isn't a vast, fixed scheme trapping you without choice. At any moment you have the choice to break out of what is really trapping you-your automatic reactions dredged up from the past.
The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.
You see so many of these empowering songs where a woman saying, you know, I'm going to go out, I'm going to wear high heels, you know, short skirt or whatever. But the high heels are quite uncomfortable, and so how good about yourself are you really feeling walking out in high heels?
Dancing in high heels is kind of tough. I learn the dances without the heels, and then we add them. We just practice, and I get used to it. My feet hurt really badly at the end of the shows, but it's fun. While it's happening it's fun. I feel tall.
Heels are really hard to wear. I feel bad for every girl that has to wear heels or chooses to wear heels. They're not fun.
I am so not a proper, good female. I can't dance in high heels and I'm just so not girly, but then I see these men with these banging bodies, dancing in heels, singing, and having so much fun with so much make-up on. That makes me honestly want to be a better woman.
Science is warning us that if we do not quickly reduce the global warming pollution that is trapping so much of the heat our planet normally radiates back out of the atmosphere, we are in danger of creating a permanent 'carbon summer'.
Life is a thin narrowness of taken-for-granted, a plank over a canyon in a fog. There is something under our feet, the taken-for-granted. A table is a table, food is food, we are we - because we don't question these things. And science is the enemy because it is the questioner. Faith saves our souls alive by giving us a universe of the taken-for-granted.
With this recitation of paraphernalia and detritus, O'Brien manages to encapsulate the experience of an army and of a particular war, of a mined and booby-trapped landscape, of cold nights and hot days, of soaking monsoons and rice paddies, and of the possibility of being shot, like Ted Lavender, suddenly and out of nowhere: not only in the middle of a sentence but in the midst of a subordinate clause.
Here's your enemy for this week, the government says. And some gullible Americans click their heels and salute - often without knowing who or even where the enemy of the week is.
Youth, then, once ballyhooed as the epicenter of fun, hot dogs, hot sex, and marvelous dope-smoking good times, is now defined as follows: that period before death, characterized by smooth skin and ill-formed ideas.
I love high heels from the age of 10! Short skirts and then high heels. My classmates used to make fun of me. Like, 'Ooh, she's so skinny and she's wearing high heels.' But I just wore what I like, and I didn't care about people's opinions, the same as I don't care now.
The enemy of the black is not the white. The enemy of capitalist is not communist, the enemy of homosexual is not heterosexual, the enemy of Jew is not Arab, the enemy of youth is not the old, the enemy of hip is not redneck, the enemy of Chicano is not gringo and the enemy of women is not men. We all have the same enemy. The enemy is the tyranny of the dull mind. The enemy is every expert who practices technocratic manipulation, the enemy is every proponent of standardization and the enemy is every victim who is so dull and lazy and weak as to allow himself to be manipulated and standardized.
The snow again. White, white net of beauty, net of dream, trapping the earth, trapping the helpless heart of life.
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