Bokelskere.no

For meg er det berre to slags politikarar, det er sparkdeisomliggnede og sosialistar. Desse sparkdeisomliggnede stør "det private initiativ" og er oftast godt i gang med å snyte på skatten rundt 20, har etablert eiga bedrift rundt 30, vorte respektable menn med hengemage som syslar med vinklubbar og jakt rundt 40, og rundt 50 har dei vorte frimurarar for å prøve å vinne tilbake den for lengst selde sjela si...

I realized that if getting drunk was how people forgot they were mortal, then hangovers were how they remembered.

Et kyss. Det kilte i magen.

...og det er kanskje noe av det vondeste, å gi noe, å blottstille seg uten å få respons.

"Come on, girl. Don't cry," whispered Frank.
"Why not? I can be miserable if I want to. You don't need to try and make it go away. It shouldn't go away. It's just as sad as it ought to be and I'm not going to hide from what's true just because it hurts."

There is a loneliness that can be rocked. Arms crossed, knees drawn up, holding, holding on, this motion, unlike a ship's, smooths and contains the rocker. It's an inside kind--wrapped tight like skin. Then there is the loneliness that roams. No rocking can hold it down. It is alive. On its own. A dry and spreading thing that makes the sound of one's own feet going seem to come from a far-off place.

We can't plead ignorance, only indifference. Those alive today are the generations that came to know better. We have the burden and the opportunity of living in the moment when the critique of factory farming broke into the popular consciousness. We are the ones of whom it will be fairly asked: What did you do when you learned the truth about eating animals?

Cruel and destructive food products should be illegal. We don't need the option of buying children's toys made with lead paint, or aerosols with chlorofluorocarbons, or medicines with unlabeled side effects. And we don't need the option of buying factory-farmed animals.

Just how destructive does a culinary preference have to be before we decide to eat something else? If contributing to the suffering of billions of animals that live miserable lives and (quite often) die in horrific ways isn´t motivating, what would be? If being the number one contributor to the most serious threat facing the planet (global warming) isn't enough, what is? And if you are tempted to put off these questions of conscience, to say "not now", then when?

Our situation is an odd one. Virtually all of us agree that it matters how we treat animals and the environment, and yet few of us give much thought to our most important relationship to animals and the environment. Odder still, those who do choose to act in accordance with these uncontroversial values by refusing to eat animals (which everyone agrees can reduce both the number of abused animals and one's ecological footprint) are often considered marginal or even radical.

It´s much easier to be cruel than one might think

Menn er mer interessante i bøker enn i det virkelige liv.

"Hun var så liten den siste natten," sa moren. "Kunne nesten puttet henne i vesken og gått." Og så la hun til, omtrent som om hun et øyeblikk hadde vurdert det. "Men jeg hadde visst ikke med meg veske den natten. "

“I never win anything,” Dolorous Edd complained. “The gods always smiled on Watt, though. When the wildlings knocked him off the Bridge of Skulls, somehow he landed in a nice deep pool of water. How lucky was that, missing all those rocks?” “Was it a long fall?” Grenn wanted to know. “Did landing in the pool of water save his life?” “No,” said Dolorous Edd. “He was dead already, from that axe in his head. Still, it was pretty lucky, missing the rocks.”

Det er først når man gir opp at det virkelig tar slutt

Jeg forsvinner. Det er ingenting å være lei seg for. Hele tiden fødes mennesker man kan elske, hele tiden.

Alle skal vi glemmes og alle skal vi huskes, og barna våre og barna til naboene skal huske oss og navnene våre, men ikke alt vi gjorde, men litt av hvem vi var, og vi skal også glemmes for dem vi var, men navnene består, og vi finnes et sted der nede, fingeravtrykk på trærne.

Jeg har tatt fri fra jobben. To uker. Jeg sa at jeg trengte det. Fortalte dem at det var absolutt nødvendig for meg å få ro og hvile. Jeg vet ikke fra hva. Jeg sa at jeg var i ferd med å få et nervøst sammenbrudd, det kunne komme når som helst, jeg sa at jeg følte meg frynsete, utslitt. Jeg vet ikke om jeg løy.

Hold ut. Det er det jeg ber deg om hele tiden. Om å holde ut. Ikke gi opp. Bare vente på hjelp. Likevel er neglene mine nedbitte.