“But listen carefully, because this is one trip I’m going to forget as fast as I can, and I’m not going to do it again, even in my head.”
“I don’t know. How do you lift your arm? What orders do you give your muscles? You just will the arm to lift upward and it does so. It’s no trouble to do so, but your arm doesn’t lift until you want it to. Well, I remember anything I’ve ever read or seen when I want to but not when I don’t want to. I don’t know how to do it, but I do it.”
“Guys, I can’t move my legs.”
Ah, jeez, let’s just pray I have the energy to get myself another beer.
Never attempt to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig.
Share and Enjoy
Share and Enjoy
Journey through life
With a plastic boy
Or Girl by your side
Let your pal be your guide
And when it breaks down
Or starts to annoy
Or grinds when it moves
And gives you no joy
Cos it’s eaten your hat
Or had sex with your cat
Bled oil on your floor
Or ripped off your door
You get to the point
You can’t stand any more
Bring it to us, we won’t give a fig
We’ll tell you, ‘Go stick your head in a pig’.
This may smell bad, kid, but it’ll keep you warm until I get the shelter up… Ugh. And I thought they smelled bad on the outside.
Even the air seems to have a smell - earthy and rich and complicated, made out of things living nd things dying and things long dead. The smell of the world where nothing stops moving, nothing stays the same.
“Governor Tarkin, I should’ve expected to find you holding Vader’s leash. I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board.”
You couldn’t expect anyone else to share your suffering. You had to carry your pain alone.
“…Courage is like a ball, son. A person can hold it only so long, and then he’s got to toss it to someone else. When it’s tossed your way, you’ve got to catch it and hold it tight—and hope there’ll be someone else to toss it to when you get tired of being brave.”
It was a brave old world.
Jamil approached the others, one by one. His confidence ebbed and flowed. He’d glimpsed the old world, but he couldn’t pretend to have fathomed its inhabitants.
She wants us to know what Earth is like. For real, not just in the propaganda.
Reason is poor propaganda when opposed by the yammering, unceasing lies of shrewd and evil and self-serving men. The little man has no way to judge, and the shoddy lies are more attractively packaged.
Humankind doesn’t have a genuine intellectual memory. They don’t need the Truth. They don’t want to know the Truth.
I no longer live in the City of Truth. I have exiled myself from Veritas, from all cities—from the world.
But exile, for no other motive than ease—that would be to give up all hope of honor. The last defeat, with no seed of future victory in it.
It was a good team, Honor thought. No doubt it was early to be making such judgments, yet she trusted her instincts. None of them thought it was going to be a picnic, but none of them seemed to see their assignment as some sort of exile, either.
We’re a team. It’s part of our job to help each other out, and to forgive each other quickly. Otherwise, we’d never get anything done.