Wizards First Rule: People are Stupid
Wizards First Rule: People are Stupid
I know he was desperate. That makes people do all kinds of crazy things.
People couldn't become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitely wicked.
Maybe everyone is just trying to protect me by lying to me. I don't care. I'm sick of people lying to me for my own good.
One of the hardest lessons in young Sam's life had been finding out that the people in charge weren't in charge. It had been finding out that governments were not, on the whole, staffed by people who had a grip, and that plans were what people made instead of thinking.
She genuinely likes people. All people, not just a select few she's spent years making up her mind about.
But was it not true that there were people, certain individuals, whom one found it impossible to picture dead, precisely because they were so vulgar? That was to say: they seemed so fit for life, so good at it, that they would never die, as if they were unworthy of the consecration of death.
Glimmer, I hear someone call her - ugh, the names the people in District 1 give their children are so ridiculous ...
People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.
The walls of this elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air. It's exhilarating and I'm tempted to ask Effie Trinket if we can ride it again, but somehow that seems childish.
Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.
You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think. Good hunting partners are hard to find.
I didn't really see why people should look at me. Plenty of people looked queerer than I did.
Secretly, in studies and attics and schoolrooms all over America, people must be writing.
The bravest people are the ones who don't mind looking like cowards.
You get attached to places, you know. Like people, I suppose.
People go to the movies instead of moving.
I'm rightly tired of the pain I hear and feel, boss. I'm tired of bein on the road, lonely as a robin in the rain. Not never havin no buddy to go on with or tell me where we's comin from or goin to or why. I'm tired of people bein ugly to each other. It feels like pieces of glass in my head. I'm tired of all the times I've wanted to help and couldn't. I'm tired of bein in the dark. Mostly it's the pain. There's too much. If I could end it, I would. But I can't.
I don't like people. They fuck me up.
People who try hard to do the right thing always seem mad.
Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.
People can't live with change if there's not a changeless core inside them.
Two people can see the same thing, disagree, and yet both be right. It's not logical; it's psychological.
How did people do this - swallow all their fears and trust someone else so implicitly with every imperfection and fear they had...
We value the individual. We probably put too much emphasis on the individual, if it comes right down to it. How many people, in the abstract, would...let's say Paige....how many people would she sacrifice to keep Andy alive? The answer wouldn't make any sense if you were looking at the whole of humanity as equals.
I couldn't make sense of the mess in my head. Diego was dead, and that was the main thing, the devastating thing. Other than that, the fight was over, my coven had lost and my enemies had won. But my dead coven was full of people who would have loved to watch me burn, and my enemies were speaking to me kindly when they had no reason to.
Morality, it could be argued, represents the way that people would like the world to work, wheareas economics represents how it actually does work.
If love is liking someone an awful lot, then I suppose I'm in love with several people.
I walk around the school hallways and look at the people. I look at the teachers and wonder why they're here. If they like their jobs. Or us. And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way. It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why.
Salander leaned back against the pillow and followed the conversation with a smile. She wondered why she, who had such difficulty talking about herself with people of flesh and blood, could blithely reveal her most intimate secrets to a bunch of completely unknown freaks on the Internet.
Old pictures look very rugged and young, and the people in the photographs always seem a lot happier than you are.
A journalist finds out things by asking questions of people who know.
Ever since the dawn of civilization, people have not been content to see events as unconnected and inexplicable. They have craved an understanding of the underlying order in the world. Today we still yearn to know why we are here and where we came from. Humanity's deepest desire for knowledge is justification enough for our continuing quest. And our goal is nothing less than a complete description of the universe we live in.
Taking away a person's control of her own life - meaning her bank account - is one of the greatest infringements a democracy can impose, especially when it applies to young people. It is an infringement even if the intent may be perceived as benign and socially valid.
People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings of flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.
Make the world better. Take the meanness out of people's hearts.
There are lots of guys out there who write a better prose line than I do and who have a better understanding of what people are really like and what humanity is supposed to mean - hell, I know that.
The whole problem with people is they don't know what matters and what doesn't.
They say you are not you except in terms of relation to other people. If there weren't any other people there wouldn't be any you because what you do, which is what you are, only has meaning in relation to other people.
The choices you make now, the people you surround yourself with, they all have the potential to affect your life, even who you are, forever.
Asleep, he looked a lo younger than going-on-seventeen, but I had noticed that Johnny looked younger when he was asleep too, so I figured everyone did. Maybe people are younger when they are asleep.
The Rusty Ruins were the remains of an old city, a hulking reminder of back when there'd been way too many people, and everyone was incredibly stupid. And ugly.
I am a greaser. I am a JD and a hood. I blacken the name of our fair city. I beat up people. I rob gas stations. I am a menace to society. Man do I have fun!
Your father always suspected that being pretty-minded is simply the natural state for most people. They want to be vapid and lazy and vain-Maddy glanced at Tally-and selfish. It only takes a twist to lock in that part of their personalities. He always thought that some people could think their way out of it.
They drove past buses that dripped people the way a sponge drips water, and arrived at a thick forest of human beings, a crowd of people sprouting in all directions like leaves on jungle trees.
Oh, but I like my geese. Like cats, they can't be told what to do, and like dogs, they're loyal, and like people, they talk every chance they get.
Estragon: People are bloody ignorant apes.
Some people are born with the first word of a language resting on their tongue though it may take some time before they can taste it.
I used to think I preferred getting old to the alternative, but now I'm not sure. Sometimes the momotony of bingo and sing-alongs and ancient dusty people parked in teh hallway in wheelchairs makes me long for death. Particularly when I rememver that I'm one of the ancient dusty people, filed away like some worthless tchotchke.
A summer apart changes people.s
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories