A Quote by Dolley Madison
At this late hour a wagon has been procured, and I have had it filled with plate and the most valuable portable articles, belonging to the house.
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As late as the seventeenth century, monarchs owned so little furniture that they had to travel from palace to palace with wagon-loads of plate and bedspreads, of carpets and tapestries.
There had always been black people in and out of our house, and from the outset I had been taught that for them life was defined by struggle and filled with injustice.
The power of perpetuating our property in our families is one of the most valuable and interesting circumstances belonging to it, and that which tends the most to the perpetuation of society itself.
My mother often mailed me articles from 'Reader's Digest' about advances in DNA chemistry. No matter how I tried to explain it to her, she never grasped the concept that I could have been writing those articles, that something I had invented made most of those DNA discoveries possible.
One of the servants had reported that Daisy had been sneaking around the house at night, deliberately tripping all the traps to keep the mice from being killed. “Is this true, daughter?” Thomas Bowman had rumbled, his gaze filled with ire as he stared at Daisy. “It could be,” she had allowed. “But there is another explanation.” “And what is that?” Bowman had asked sourly. Her tone turned congratulatory. “I think we are hosting the most intelligent mice in New York!
We had nothing, no money, when I was young. We lived in a council house. My dad struggled; my mum struggled. But that made me what I am. If I had everything on a plate from the start, maybe I would not have been a champion for 11 years.
The House of Belonging is your birthright; it is part of your Happily Everafter, whether you are married, single, divorced, widowed, with or without children. The blueprints of your House of Belonging exist as spiritual energy and hover over your head-ready, when you are, to be pulled down from Heaven to shelter your Soul on Earth.
Those 4 guys in the late 60's who attacked a jewel merchant on New York's West 46th St. on the sidewalk, so they could steal his jewel-filled station wagon, which they abandoned 2 blocks later because none of them could drive a stick shift. Where would I be without such people?
After about fourth grade, I do remember borrowing my mother's old portable Olivetti and typing stories out on the back of photocopies of journal articles.
I remembered standing in the middle of the street in front of The Crooked Bookshelf, filled with the certainty of a future. I had heard the wolves howling behind the house and remembered how glad I had been to be human.
If Star Wars had been released in the late '60s, or late '80s, or late '90s, adjusting for technology, it fits spectacularly well.
If cathedrals had been universities If dungeons of the Inquisition had been laboratories If Christians had believed in character instead of creed If they had taken from the bible only that which is GOOD and thrown away the wicked and absurd If temple domes had been observatories If priests had been philosophers If missionaries had taught useful arts instead of bible lore If astrology had been astronomy If the black arts had been chemistry If superstition had been science If religion had been humanity The world then would be a heaven filled with love, and liberty and joy
Growing up, we had 30, 40, 50 people coming through the house some Thanksgivings. Sometimes there was a kids' table; other times, the plate was just sitting on your lap. You get in where you fit in at that house.
Even when I was a kid, I always showed up late for school every day. It got to the point where they had my late slips filled for every day of the school year in advance, so all they had to do was fill in what time I got there.
That match was late evening and I had the experience of the electricity of the Centre Court because it was packed, a full house for the whole match. It had been a great year for me, first time there and I had the full taste of Wimbledon.
I'm late to everything. I've always wanted to have it written in my will that when I die, the coffin shows up a half hour late and says on the side, like in gold, 'Sorry I'm Late'.
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