A Quote by Helen Caldicott

Every time you turn on an electric light, you are making another brainless baby. — © Helen Caldicott
Every time you turn on an electric light, you are making another brainless baby.
Every time I caught a fish, I wondered how something so small could have such clear, pure strength. It kept reminding me of another sensation, from another realm. The fish on the line, I eventually realized, felt like the baby, kicking inside you. Or the shocking, life-hungry pull of the baby on the breast. Perhaps fishing is like quickening for men, a long and patient wait for a few electric moments when they feel connected to another life.
I don't know where life's going, but soon it will be gone. I hope the wind that's blowing helps me carry on. Turn on the radio, baby listen to my song. Turn on the night light baby, I'm gone.
How long have you been sitting in the darkness? You forget. You know you're getting hard to be with and you're crying every time you turn around. Oh my crazy baby, try to hold on tight. Oh my crazy baby, don't put out the light. And your hands are shaking something awful as your worries crawl around inside your clothes.
Every time you give a parent a sense of success or of empowerment, you're offering it to the baby indirectly. Because every time a parent looks at that baby and says 'Oh, you're so wonderful,' that baby just bursts with feeling good about themselves.
No Difference Small as a peanut, Big as a giant, We're all the same size When we turn off the light. Rich as a sultan, Poor as a mite, We're all worth the same When we turn off the light. Red, black or orange, Yellow or white, We all look the same When we turn off the light. So maybe the way, To make everything right Is for god to just reach out And turn off the light!
I was the world's ugliest baby. I have photos of my folks leaving the hospital with sacks over their heads... I asked my mother how to turn off the electric fan. She said 'Grab the blade!
This whole electric universe is a complex maze of similar tensions. Every particle of matter in the universe is separated from its condition of oneness, just as the return ball is separated from the hand, and each is connected with the other one by an electric thread of light which measures the tension of that separateness.
You boys know what tropism is, it's what makes a plant grow toward the light. Everything aspires to the light. You don't have to chase down a fly to get rid of it - you just darken the room, leave a crack of light in a window, and out he goes. Works every time. We all have that instinct, that aspiration. Science can't dim that. All science can do is turn out the false lights so the true light can get us home.
Electric light is just another instrument. I have no desire to contrive fantasies mediumistically or sociologically over it or beyond it.
The Baby Boom has spawned an even bigger Grandma Boom. For every baby born, two women turn into grandmas.
The baby bat Screamed out in fright, 'Turn on the dark, I'm afraid of the light.
Cooking requires time, effort and fuel: increasing numbers of people I've visited can't even afford to turn on the kettle for a cup of tea as they eke out every penny to feed their extortionate gas and electric meters.
"It is light that reveals, light that obscures, light that communicates. It is light I "listen" to. The light late in the day has a distinct quality, as it fades toward the darkness of evening. After sunset there is a gentle leaving of the light, the air begins to still, and a quiet descends. I see magic in the quiet light of dusk. I feel quiet, yet intense energy in the natural elements of our habitat. A sense of magic prevails. A sense of mystery. It is a time for contemplation, for listening - a time for making photographs. "
You can't turn individual human beings into baby-making machines.
If Thomas Edison invented electric light today, Dan Rather would report it on CBS News as, 'Candle-making industry threatened'.
Electric guitars are an abomination, whoever heard of an electric violin? An electric cello? Or for that matter an electric singer?
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