A Quote by Alfred Kahn
I really don't know one plane from the other. To me they are just marginal costs with wings.
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I don’t mind hot and spicy. Actually find that appealing in a girl … And chicken wings.” Rylann turned her head and stared at him. “Did you really just compare me to chicken wings?” “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Chicken wings are the bomb.
There shall be wings! If the accomplishment be not for me, 'tis for some other. The spirit cannot die; and man, who shall know all and shall have wings.
The Indians are a marginal people in Guatemala just like I am a marginal person in the first world.
So I got off the plane and I forget to take off my seat-belt and I'm dragging the plane through the terminal... The wings are knocking people over.
The point is not to stay marginal, but to participate in whatever network of marginal zones is spawned from other disciplinary centers and which, together, constitute a multiple displacement of those authorities.
The other day the plane that Barack Obama was on had some mechanical difficulties and was forced to land. Well, the National Transportation Safety Board did an inspection on the plane, and you know what they found? The bolts on the plane were fine, but apparently Jesse Jackson had taken some of the nuts off.
Even if we could grow our way out of the crisis and delay the inevitable and painful reconciliation of virtual and real wealth, there is the question of whether this would be a wise thing to do. Marginal costs of additional growth in rich countries, such as global warming, biodiversity loss and roadways choked with cars, now likely exceed marginal benefits of a little extra consumption. The end result is that promoting further economic growth makes us poorer, not richer.
And I was afraid. She frightens me because she can knock me down with a word. Because she does not know that writing is walking on a dizzying silence setting one word after the other on emptiness. Writing is miraculous and terrifying like the flight of a bird who has no wings but flings itself out and only gets wings by flying.
I'm always in a hotel room, and I spend a good portion of my day setting it up so it's comfortable for me. Whether that means making paths out of towels so I don't touch the carpet or removing the comforters or just not touching things. Even sitting on a plane with a bunch of other people - it's really hard for me.
Vision without execution is like a plane without wings, or Dumbo without ears, it just won't fly.
I always step on the plane with my right foot and touch the outside of the plane with my left hand. Sometimes you know there's someone standing there to welcome you to the plane and I have to kind of get them to move a little bit so I can put my hand on the outside of the plane. It's not a natural thing to be up in the sky in a little metal tube.
My brain and body and nervous system, they see a plane ride, a long plane trip, as an opportunity to sleep with nothing coming in, nothing to do. I just go offline the minute I'm on the plane.
I wouldn't say the purpose of making art is to enjoy it necessarily. For me, it happens to be the thing I enjoy the most. I don't even know what the purpose of art is really, I just know that is something that makes me feel satisfied in a way that other things don't. That's all I know, that's why I like to write songs and films or draw. I just like to make things and somehow I find it gives me a feeling of satisfaction that I can't find in other areas of my life.
The marginal cost of doing something 'just this once' always seems to be negligible, but the full cost will typically be much higher. Yet unconsciously, we will naturally employ the marginal-cost doctrine in our personal lives.
We don't know what our health care costs are going to be. We don't know what our tax rates are going to be. We don't know what our interest rates are going to be. We don't know what our energy costs are going to be. All these uncertainties are being driven by the Government's agenda. What we really need to do is get Government to step back.
Then your fingers moved down to my chin. You pushed it up with your thumb to look at me, almost like you were studying me in the artificial lights above my head. And, I mean, you really looked at me … with eyes like two stars. [...] And I had wings fluttering away inside me all right. Big fat moth wings. You trapped me easily, drew me toward you like I was already in the net.
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