Dr. Gambit’s spectacles flashed. Mrs. Gambit stood up, upsetting her chair. “Georgina Sykes,” she said harshly, forgetting to smile, “the day has not yet come when you are running this Institute. Our routine will take up its normal course from tomorrow on.”
“That is going to be a matter of debate between you and Dr. Gambit and the rest of us,” said Georgina. “Because we have absolutely no intention of letting ourselves be intimidated by your beastly routine ever again. Although freedom has come to us somewhat late in life, we have no intention of throwing it away again. Many of us have passed our lives with domineering and peevish husbands. When we were finally delivered of these we were chivvied around by our sons and daughters who not only no longer loved us, but considered us a burden and objects of ridicule and shame. Do you imagine in your wildest dreams that now we have tasted freedom we are going to let ourselves be pushed around once more by you and your leering mate?”
A shudder passed over Mrs. Gambit, but the doctor spoke up first: “We will adjourn this discussion, it is useless and beside the point,” he said and hurried from the room…
Revolt among the elderly, from The Hearing Trumpet by Leonora Carrington, p. 153-154.
It is out of all of this that the black son must say, finally, to his black father, and ignobly enough ‘You’re a colored man. I just want to be a man.’ Which means that a man exists only in the brutally limited lexicon of those who think of themselves as white, and imagine, therefore, that they control reality and rule the world. And the black son says this to his black father in spite of the fact that he, the wonder doctor, has had to become a living freak, a walking encyclopedia of rare medical knowledge, in order to have the question of his marriage to a white girl discussed….if even the wonder doctor must undergo such trials in order to touch his lady love, heaven help the high-school dropouts: so many of whom found themselves in Attica, for example, not impossibly for trying to be men. Heaven did not help those among the blacks who failed to master their pre-med courses…
James Baldwin on Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, in The Devil Finds Work.
I wanted to find out the motives for Galahad’s unwonted kindness. Not that he lacks ordinary human sentiment, simply that he considers kindness to inanimate creatures a waste of time. He may be right, but on the other hand the maguey cactus seems alive to me, so I feel I can also make claims on existence.
Leonora Carrington, The Hearing Trumpet, p. 12.
No more copying! No more being ordered about! Not even the rent to pay! For they would have a house of their own, and they would eat the chickens of their farmyard, the vegetables from their garden–and dine with their clogs on! ‘We’ll do just as we like! We’ll grow beards!’
Flaubert, Bouvard et Pécuchet, p. 30
A man comes out from the office next door and tells me this will end badly for me if they don’t find my name in their files.
A familiar scenario to us all, excerpted from Georges Perec’s published dream notebook, La Boutique Obscure
Regardless of whether it’s the largest park or the smallest, we’re putting in a park to send a message that we don’t want a high concentration of sex offenders in this community.
Los Angeles City Council Member Joe Buscaino, quoted in The New York Times, March 9, 2013.
The reign of the sovereign non-sequitur has begun in earnest!
“If pennies were administered every time someone had proffered to us the bendy old saw that ‘beaches have no politics,’ the resulting penny-administration oversight bureaucracy would rapidly grow unmanageable. Of course beaches have politics; even the Manta-ray has politics, and it is a Manta-ray. (The Manta-ray is a Platformist.) Everything has politics, if one only takes the time to peel back its jumper and put one’s tongue in its navel.”
From Blueprints for a Sparkling Tomorrow (revised & expanded edition), under contract with Sycophantic Palms Press.
Hens, of course, are not pigs — no argument about that — but the transition of thought between the two species is such an easy one that I feel this is the place to touch on the report from Paradise, Nebraska, that the local agricultural school has discovered that if pigs are given eight drinks of whisky a day they ‘acquire an optimistic view of life.’ Mr John B. Fosdyke, a member of the staff of the school, says they develop a strong liking for these refreshers and ‘get very cheerful.’ Does one or does one not shake the head? It all turns, it seems to me, on what is implied in the word ‘cheerful.’ Naturally, pig-lovers like their protégés to look on the bright side –a pig that goes about wrapped in a Byronic gloom can cast a shadow on the happiest farm — but one does not want them getting over-familiar with strangers and telling long stories without any point. And what of the morning after? I can see a Paradise pig being irresistibly gay and amusing all through Monday up to closing time, and on Tuesday sitting in a corner with its head in its hands and merely grunting when spoken to. There is no companion more depressing than a pig with a really bad hangover. Paradise, in my opinion, should watch its step.
– from P.G. Wodehouse, Wodehouse on Wodehouse, p. 607.
- I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and l̶i̶v̶e̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶r̶u̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶a̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶i̶t̶s̶ ̶c̶r̶e̶e̶d̶:̶ ̶”̶W̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶r̶u̶t̶h̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶l̶f̶-̶e̶v̶i̶d̶e̶n̶t̶:̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶m̶e̶n̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶c̶r̶e̶a̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶e̶q̶u̶a̶l̶.̶”̶ ̶adopt new paradigms of entrepreneurship and successful business practice
- I have a dream that my four little children will be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their portfolios
- I have been to the mountaintop, and I have seen dynamic high-growth sectors
Amid other pieces of wisdom from Kingonomics: Twelve Innovative Currencies for Transforming Your Business and Life Inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
Re: New Wells Thesis Binding Order
I wanted to confirm the mulberry color you chose for binding.
Typical for Brandeis is stealth blue.
Kevin Cochran, New Wells Bindery