New Quotes ( page 30897)

Suicide - it was just another radical plan to fix life.

Every Apostle or disciple, says Mrs. Clark, who is running for his Savior, at the same time, running from something else.

In the world there is pain, hatred, joy, love, and war, because we want them to be. We need this tragedy to prepare for trial by meeting with death, ever.

We really do invent the tragedy, to somehow fill an empty life.

...any idea can be brought to the absurd - what, in fact, affected the Americans.

Maybe the suffering and anguish - this is the meaning of life.
Imagine that the Earth is a big process unit, processing plant.
Imagine a drum for grinding stones:
A rotating cylinder filled with sand and water.
Imagine that your soul - angular shapeless stone that was thrown inside.
A piece of raw material, natural resource: crude oil or mineral ore.
And the pain and the hostility is only burn material that polishes us, rubbing to Shine the souls, purifies them, teaches and develops from reincarnation to reincarnation.
Now imagine that you are on their own, throw in a drum again and again.
It is aware that your assignment on earth is to suffer and suffer.

- Deep down we are all rooting against "his" team. Against humanity. We against us. You are the victim of his own hatred.
We like war because it's the only way to complete our work. To Polish our souls. Here on Earth, at the huge plant. In the polishing drum. Through the pain, anger, conflict. This is the only way. Where? We don't know.
- When we are born, we forget so much, says Mr. Whittier.
When we are born, we seem to go into the building. And lock it in this building with no Windows and not see what is happening outside. If you're staying long enough, you'll forget how it looks outside. Without a mirror, even forgotten his own face.

- Any calls for peace in the world, says Mr. Whittier, is all a lie. A beautiful lie, words. Just another reason to fight. No, we love war. War. Hunger. Plague. They spur us on to enlightenment.
- The desire to restore the order of the world, liked to say Mr. Whittier, is the sign of a very immature soul. Such aspirations are peculiar only to the young people: to save everyone from their portion of suffering.
We love war and always loved. We are born with this knowledge: that we were born for war. We love disease. We love cancer. Love earthquake. In this room of laughter in this big amusement Park that we call planet Earth, says Mr. Whittier, we love forest fires. The spillage of oil. Serial killers.
We love dictators. Terrorists. Hijackers. Pedophiles.
Lord, how we love the news on TV. Shots where people are standing on the edge of a long mass grave in front of a platoon of soldiers, waiting for the shot. Colorful pictures in glossy magazines: the blood-stained scraps of bodies of innocent people, blown to pieces by bombs and suicide bombers. Radiovoice about car accidents. Mudslides. Sinking ships.
Beating in the air invisible telegrams with his shaking hands, Mr. Whittier would tell you this:
- We love the crash.
We love air pollution. Acid rain. Global warming. Hunger.
No, Mr. Whittier did not even know existed.

Land, says Mr. Whittier, it's just a big car. A huge plant. Factory. Here it is - a great response. The most important truth.
Imagine polishing drum, which is spinning non-stop, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. In water, the stones and gravel. And it all grinds. Spinning, spinning. The polishes ordinary rocks, turning them into jewelry. That's what the Earth. Why it moves. And we have these stones. And everything that happens to us - all the dramatic events, pain and joy, war and disease, victory and resentment - it's just water and sand that are destroying us. Grind, Polish. Turn into sparkling gems.
Now I'll tell you, Mr. Whittier.
Smooth as glass here he is, our Mr. Whittier. Brushed pain. Polished and shining.
That is why we love conflict, he says. Hatred - our love. To stop the war, we declare war on her. Are eradicating poverty. Struggle with hunger. Open fronts, call to answer, defy, and destroy the thunder.
We're human, and our first commandment:
Need to something happen.
Mr. Whittier did not even know if he's right.

He says that readers don't need a story about a charming and talented child who appeared on television, made a lot of money, and then lived happily ever after, and still live happily ever after.
People don't need a happy ending.
People want to read about Rusty hammer, a boy from the "make room for daddy", who then killed himself. Or about Trent Lumina, cute kid from "Nannies and the Professor", who hanged himself on the fence at the Playground. About a little Anise Jones, who played Buffy in "family matters" - remember, she walked arm in arm with a doll named Mrs. Beasley, and then swallowed a lethal dose of barbiturates. Perhaps the biggest dose in the entire history of the County of Los Angeles.
That is what you want people. The same reason why we watch auto racing: what if someone crashes. Not for nothing do the Germans say: "Die reinste Freude ist die Schadenfreude". "The purest joy is gloating". And indeed, we are always pleased when those whom we envy, something bad happens. It is the purest joy and the most sincere. The joy I see in a pricey limo, turning the wrong way on one-way street.
Or when Jay Smith, the "Little varmint", nicknamed Shorty, find dead with multiple stab wounds in the desert in Las Vegas.
Or when Dana Plato, the girl from "Other foreplay", gets arrested, removed naked for "Playboy" and dies after eating sleeping pills.
People stand in queues in supermarkets, collect coupons for discounts or anything. And so they bought a newspaper, you need to print the right materials.
Most of these people want to read about how Laziness 0 Grade, lovely daughter of "Eight is enough", was found dead in some trailer, with my stomach literally full of prozac and vicodin. There is no tragedy, no failure, says my editor, there is no history.
Happy Kenny Wilcox with wrinkles of laughter will not be sold.
The editor said to me:
- Give me Wilcox child pornography in the computer. Give me a number of dead bodies buried under his porch. Then it will be history.
Editor says:
- Better yet, give me all of the above, and he will be dead.

If you want from you stay away, the smell is the best bodyguard.

Poverty, Inky says, now this is a new kind of wealth. Anonymity - a new kind of fame.
- Roll down the stairs, says the Incas, now a new kind of success.
People of high society, says Inky, that's who the true homeless. We can have a dozen of their homes in different cities, but permanent residence we have, because we are always running from place to place. Whole life - a continuous jet flights.

Truly extraordinary people, "she says," truly happy only when fully dedicate themselves to their occupation.

Each of us is doomed to always to be right. All and in all.
In this moving fluid world where everyone is right and every thought, from the moment of its realization - is also correct, I will say to you, Mr. Whittier, is the only constant; what we promise.