Bokelskere.no

All this 'fancy stuff' about types of text and ways of meaning is fine and dandy, but we are dealing with people who can't read the back of an aspirin bottle (because it is written at a tenth-grade level or whatever) and, thus, could poison themselves or their children.

When goverment say there is a crisis in literacy, the problems are often elsewhere.

"This isn't about love and hate," Helen says. It's about control. People don't sit down and read a poem to kill their child. They just want the child to sleep. They just want to dominate. No matter how much you love someone, you still want to have your own way."

Every place is the same place. Kadzu. Zebra mussels. Water hyacinths. Starlings. Burger Kings.
The local natives, anything unique gets squeezed out.
"The only biodiversity we're going to have left," he says, "is Coke versus Pepsi."

Doesen't reincarnation strike you as just another form of procrastination?

Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn't see their thoughts as belonging to them. When ancient Greek had a thought, it occured to them as a god or goddess giving an order. Apollo was telling them to be brave. Athena was telling them to fall in love.
Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.

These distraction-oholics. These focus-ophobics.
Old George Orwell got it backward.
Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's busy holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed.

Du legger merke til meg: ikke i øret, i brystet. Jeg er lykken din.
Når du puster ut, synes du det er som om du puster ut for første gang. At alle de andre utpustene har vært tvungne svar på innpust. Nå kjenner du deg fri.
Det er fordi jeg er her. Lyden du ikke hører, men kjenner i brystet. Lykken. Lyden som legger et fint lite sonisk teppe over skammen.
Du kan si det, og mene det: jeg er lykkelig.
Dette er ytterst få forunt. Du er sjelden, jeg er din lykkes grunn, å legge meg over alle misgjerningene dine, oppleve dem istedenfor deg. Buffersonisk ulykkelig være lykken din uten at du vet det. Det sier seg selv, ingen tenker på meg. Jeg er det-fullkomment-ensomme.

We need other people to be anything.

Another shift between different areas is the way we use 'say' for 'read', 'see' for 'understand', 'talk' for 'write'. [...] This is common everywhere, including the teacher talking to the young child in the beginning reading clasroom, and we are usually oblivious of the fact that we mix these modalities. One researcher even reports the anecdote of the child who thought herself deaf because she could not hear the letters whispering to her - she could not hear what the letters said.

Han kunne ta feil. Han hadde også sagt at mennesker hadde vært på månen, og det sa seg vel selv at man ikke helt kunne stole på den typen dømmekraft.

Look to the sky, look to yourself and remember: we are only god's echoes and god is Narcissus.

The break with the past, whenever it had occured, had been clean; the early years of idealism belonged to an unremembered time. You could get the details in books. As for the present, you had to fiure it out for yourself. You had to know where you stood, and you had to be careful.

For språket kjem inn i livet gjennom konkrete ytringar (som realiserer det), og gjennom konkrete ytringar kjem livet inn i språket.

Jem var tolv. Han var vanskelig å være i hus med, uberegnelig, lunete. Matlysten hans var slik at en kunne bli redd, og han sa til meg så mange ganger at jeg skulle holde opp å plage ham, at jeg rådførte meg med Atticus: - Tror du han har bendelorm, kanskje? Atticus sa nei, Jem vokste.