|—||Julius K. Nyerere, first president of Tanzania. (via theblacksophisticate)|
“Blood is thicker than water”, when used in the context of family over friends, is in fact a wildly incorrect bastardisation.
The true, full quote is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” and refers to relationships forged by choice holding deeper meaning than those of mere biology.
Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow (via brute-reason)
“even surpassing those in highly repressive regimes like Russia, China, and Iran”
‘Land of the Free’ my ass.
Susan Hazen-Hammond, Spider Woman’s Web: Traditional Native American Tales About Women’s Power
[This quote is from the FIRST TWO FUCKING PAGES of the introduction.]
Well, then, suppose my auto-repair man devised questions for an intelligence test. Or suppose a carpenter did, or a farmer, or, indeed, almost anyone but an academician. By every one of those tests, I’d prove myself a moron, and I’d be a moron, too. In a world where I could not use my academic training and my verbal talents but had to do something intricate or hard, working with my hands, I would do poorly. My intelligence, then, is not absolute but is a function of the society I live in and of the fact that a small subsection of that society has managed to foist itself on the rest as an arbiter of such matters.
Consider my auto-repair man, again. He had a habit of telling me jokes whenever he saw me. One time he raised his head from under the automobile hood to say: “Doc, a deaf-and-mute guy went into a hardware store to ask for some nails. He put two fingers together on the counter and made hammering motions with the other hand. The clerk brought him a hammer. He shook his head and pointed to the two fingers he was hammering. The clerk brought him nails. He picked out the sizes he wanted, and left. Well, doc, the next guy who came in was a blind man. He wanted scissors. How do you suppose he asked for them?”
Indulgently, I lifted my right hand and made scissoring motions with my first two fingers. Whereupon my auto-repair man laughed raucously and said, “Why, you dumb jerk, He used his voice and asked for them.” Then he said smugly, “I’ve been trying that on all my customers today.” “Did you catch many?” I asked. “Quite a few,” he said, “but I knew for sure I’d catch you.” “Why is that?” I asked. “Because you’re so goddamned educated, doc, I knew you couldn’t be very smart.
|—||Isaac Asimov (via skinnybaras)|
|—||Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead (via roominations)|
The Adon’s hall was open. Through it
Swallows darted. The soul flies through it.
Osfameron in his mind’s eye knew it.
The bird’s life is not the man’s life.
Osfameron walked in the eye
Of his mind. The blackbird flew there.
He would not let the blackbird’s song go by
His mind’s life can keep the bird there.
Diana Wynne Jones — The Dalemark Quartet
|—||Patricia Hill Collins (via wretchedoftheearth)|
|—||Dylan Moran, What it is (via poemsbydes)|
|—||Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead (via fuckyeahgreatplays)|