A Quote by Sara Pascoe

When I was a small child we were allowed to wait up until midnight on 31 December. Then as the TV chimed, Dad would run to the front door and open it, welcoming the New Year air. This is the kind of entertainment you make in poor families, and cry to your therapist about when you're rich.
Take the entire 4.5-billion-year history of the earth and scale it down to a single year, with January 1 being the origin of the earth and midnight on December 31 being the present. Until June, the only organisms were single-celled microbes, such as algae, bacteria, and amoebae. The first animal with a head did not appear until October. The first human appears on December 31. We, like all the animals and plants that have ever lived, are recent crashers at the party of life on earth.
You don't get rich, you don't often have much fun. Sometimes you get beaten up or shot at or tossed into the jail house. Once in a long while you get dead. Every other month you decide to give it up and find some sensible occupation while you can still walk without shaking your head. Then the door buzzer rings and you open the inner door to the waiting room and there stands a new face with a new problem, a new load of grief, and a small piece of money.
If the "rich" were swarming into poor neighborhoods and beating the poor until they coughed up the dimes they swallowed for safekeeping, yes, this would be a transfer of income from the poor to the rich. But allowing taxpayers to keep more of their money does not qualify as taking it from the poor - unless you believe that the poor have a moral claim to the money other people earn.
And that's when I realized that there's really two ways people cry. You cry when you're sorry for yourself, and then you cry when you are really sad. The tears you cry for yourself? Those are kid tears. You're crying because you want somebody to help you or pick you up. Your mom, your dad, the old lady next door... anyone.
An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.
Once I caught my dad in front of the TV watching a tennis match, and I realized they were tricking us. Poor guy, he had to sneak in a tennis final - probably the French Open.
I'm pretty money savvy. My dad made me read 'Rich Dad Poor Dad' when I was 12 - this investing book about how to manage your money and be smart. So I'm kind of like a grandmother.
When I was a kid, my favourite time of the year when I was child was that magical first snowfall. I'd yell Yippee! Snow! and run up to the front door and shout You know the deal... You have to let me in now.
Tonight's December thirty-first, something is about to burst. The clock is crouching, dark and small, like a time bomb in the hall. Hark, it's midnight, children dear. Duck! Here comes another year!
We urgently need a debate about the best ways of supporting families in modern America, without blinders that prevent us from seeing the full extent of dependence and interdependence in American life. As long as we pretend that only poor or abnormal families need outside assistance, we will shortchange poor families, overcompensate rich ones, and fail to come up with effective policies for helping families in the middle.
People will set a New Year's resolution: "I'm gonna get in shape this year." But they don't set a parameter for how they're gonna measure it. Or if they do measure it, they wait until the first day of the next year. You'd never run a business that way. Document your progress.
I like to say, and I truly believe, that every run brings new experiences. You just don't know what they might be until you actually do the run. That's one of my major reasons for pushing out the front door as often as I do-the adventure of it all.
I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions because I don’t think you should have to wait until December to start working on how to change yourself. I think if you’ve got a problem, you need to fix it now.
Until you have a child, you won't really understand that you would actually throw yourself in front of a bus for your child. Like, you don't really get it. Like, it's like, 'Hell no.' You know, 'She's only two. I can make another one.' You know? But, you know, you have a baby, and then you actually care about this person.
I was brought up with old-fashioned values. I wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend until I finished school. I wasn't allowed to wear make-up: the nuns would scrub your face if they saw it.
I can't wait to join you in the joy of welcoming neighbors back into neighborhoods, and small businesses up and running, and cutting those ribbons that somebody is creating new jobs.
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