Min Jin Lee, Pachinko - 2017
The Japanese said that koreans had too much anger and heat in their blood. Seeds, blood, how could you fight such hopeless ideas? Noa had been a sensitive child who had believed that if he followed all the rules and was the best, then somehow the hostile world would change its mind. His death may have been her fault for having allowed him to believe in such cruel ideals.
Tayyip Erdoğan - 1995
Democracy is like a tram. You ride it until you arrive at your destination, then you step off.
Martin Luther King Jr, Letter from Birmingham jail - 1963
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere
Dylan Thomas, Poem titled the same - 1947
Do not go gentle into that good night
Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, Vertuous Women Found- 1976
Well-behaved women seldom make history, Explanation
Charles Goodhart - 1975
When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure, Explanation
Peace Pilgrim and Myself, parapharsed
Things possess you when you cannot relinquish them after they are no longer useful. I know a many very wealthy people who have been reduced to mere caretakers of their possessions.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar - 1963
“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”