The symptoms of fear have always been the same.
They were the same when men had to face wild beasts and they are the same today.
Blood drains away from the face and epidermis, to avoid blood loss. It's why people turn pale.
The intestines relax and release everything, so there will be no toxic matter left to contaminate the organism. It's why people "shit themselves".
The body initially refuses to move, so as not to provoke the predator by any sudden movement. It's why people freeze up.
Women, when searching for a meaning to life or for the path of knowledge, always identify with one of four classic archetypes.
The Virgin is the one whose search springs from her complete independence, and everything she learns is the fruit of her ability to face challenges alone.
The Martyr finds her way to self-knowledge through pain, surrender and suffering.
The Saint finds her true reason for living in unconditional love and in her ability to give without asking anything in return.
Finally, the Witch justifies her existence by going in search of complete and limitless pleasure.
And now you ask in your heart,
‘How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?’
Go to your fields and your gardens,
and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,
But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee.
For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love,
And to both, bee and flower,
the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.
bicycling isn't just a matter of balance
it's a matter of faith.
You can keep upright only by moving forward.
You have to have your eyes on the goal, not the ground.
All beings so far have created something beyond themselves;
and do you want to be the ebb of this great flood and even go back to the beasts rather than overcome man?
What is the ape to man?
A laughingstock or a painful embarrassment.
And man shall be just that for the overman:
a laughingstock or a painful embarrassment…
the woman in Dear Abby who married a handsome successful mortician
on their wedding night, he made her soak in a tub of ice water until her skin was freezing to the touch, and then he made her lie in bed completely still while he had intercourse with her cold inert body.
this woman had done this as a newlywed, and gone on to do it for the next ten years of marriage
and now she was writing to Dear Abby to ask if Abby thought it meant something
The amazing miracle of death,
when one second you're walking and talking,
and the next second you're an object.
This was a man who moved like the gods were watching:
every gesture he made was upright and correct.
There was no one else it could be but Hector
Take a look around you
Someone might recognize you
It's not the type of place you wanna bump into friends
I know what you came for
To watch me on the dance floor
May get what you paid for
A part of your dreams
Now let me tell you why
You kiss your wife goodbye
You take a swig of brandy
And come here to me Getting satisfaction No negative reaction I'm playing with my body That's what you wanna see
But it's all right
Come on and see me every Saturday night
But it's all all right
And don't you know?
My hands along my thighs
You can't believe your eyes
My body hypnotizes
I'm a stripper!
So let the show begin
I'll show you everything
Under my safety pin
There's nothing you can say to take my pride away
I can be a lady and a stripper
I got ability
Don't you look down on me
I can live without your dirty minds
Can you?
Ha!
You men are all the same
Don't wanna know your name
Just come back again and pay the stripper
So let the show begin
I'll show you everything
Pulling off the safety pin
I got ability
Don't you look down on me
I only want your money
The world is full of women
who'd tell me I should be ashamed of myself
if they had the chance.
Quit dancing.
Get some self-respect
and a day job.
Right.
And minimum wage,
and varicose veins,
just standing
in one place for eight hours
behind a glass counter
bundled up to the neck,
instead of
naked as a meat sandwich.
Selling gloves, or something.
Instead of what I do sell.
You have to have talent
to peddle a thing so nebulous
and without material form.
Exploited, they'd say.
Yes, any way
you cut it,
but I've a choice
of how,
and I'll take the money.
I do give value.
Like preachers, I sell vision,
like perfume ads,
desire
or its facsimile.
Like jokes
or war,
it's all in the timing.
I sell men back their worst suspicions:
that everything's for sale,
and piecemeal.
They gaze at me and see
a chain-saw murder just before it happens,
when thigh, ass, inkblot, crevice, tit, and nipple
are still connected.
Such hatred leaps in them,
my beery worshipers!
That, or a bleary
hopeless love.
Seeing the rows of heads
and upturned eyes, imploring
but ready to snap at my ankles,
I understand floods and earthquakes,
and the urge to step on ants.
I keep the beat,
and dance for them because they can't.
The music smells like foxes,
crisp as heated metal
searing the nostrils
or humid as August,
hazy and languorous
as a looted city the day after,
when all the rape's been done already,
and the killing,
and the survivors wander around
looking for garbage
to eat,
and there's only a bleak exhaustion.
Speaking of which, it's the smiling
tires me out the most.
This, and the pretense
that I can't hear them.
And I can't,
because I'm after all a foreigner to them.
The speech here is all warty gutturals,
obvious as a slam of ham,
but I come from the province of the gods
where meaning are lilting and oblique.
I don't let on to everyone,
but lean close, and I'll whisper:
My mothers was raped by a holy swan.
You believe that?
You can take me out to dinner.
That's what we tell all the husbands.
There sure are a lot of dangerous birds around.
Not that anyone here but you would understand.
The rest of them would like to watch me and feel nothing.
Reduce me to components
as in a clock factory or abattoir.
Crush out the mystery.
Wall me up alive in my own body.
They'd like to see through me,
but nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
Look - my feet don't hit the marble!
Like breath or a balloon, I'm rising,
I hover six inches in the air
in my blazing swan-egg of light.
You think I'm not a goddess?
Try me.
This is a torch song.
Touch me and you'll burn.
We look for shelter in a storm, but sometimes, we can't find it.
Sometimes, we're at the mercy of the winds. We have nothing left but to accept it.
When we face the storm, no matter how scary, no matter how much power it has over us, when we face it, we find we are the shelter. We'll survive.
We find ourselves coming out the other side stronger for it.
We might even find ourselves happy
Almost all human cells reproduce on a cycle.
Up to ten percent of your heart is replaced each year. Red blood cells are replaced every four months, skin cells every two weeks.
But neurons, the cells that make up the brain and spinal cord, don't regenerate.
It turns out that under the right conditions, neurons can recover. If they can break from normal operations and focus on healing, they have a chance at regrowth.
It's human nature to wanna fix what's broken.
We may not be able to exactly replicate what we lost, but in its place, we'll grow something new. It's a long process, but it happens. Slowly but surely.
Until we have what we need.
A man who wants to die feels angry and full of life and desperate and bored and exhausted, all at the same time;
he wants to fight everyone,
and he wants to curl up in a ball and hide in a cupboard somewhere.
He wants to say sorry to everyone, and he wants everyone to know just how badly they've all let him down
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life.
Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking.
Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice.
And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.
They somehow already know what you truly want to become.
Everything else is secondary
There is always that discussion about whether Superman or Clark is the real personality
This has been covered in comics then on screen
Taking it that Kal El never got to grow up on Krypton under Jor El
Like how Tarzan was not the Lord Greystoke he would have been if he grew up in England
The Dean Cain version works on "Clark is who I am Superman is what I can do "
The Chris films are taken as the description given in Kill Bill
Superman was born Superman
Clark is the disguise
And it has been noted about how Clark was rejected by Lana while Superman is accepted by Lois
It is Clarks human emotion that comes out here
Jor El tells Superman he is not to interfere with human history
Jonathan over rides this
You are here for a reason
So at this point Clark not Kal El truly becomes Superman, no restriction, pushes his power to the limit and literally turns back time
