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Tara: Sweetie, you wouldn't blow off a class if your head was on fire.
--
Forever [5.17]

 

Amber Benson

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I'm sorry, was that homophobic? No--I think it was, 'cause I hear that a lot. Dave, What?, You're talking about being gay. You probably secretly are gay. And I'm like listen voice in my head, I'm not! HOW DO YOU KNOW YOU WOULDN'T LIKE IT? HOW DO YOU KNOW YOU WOULDN'T LIKE IT? I know I wouldn't like it, other scarier voice in my head! Cause one time while making a sandwich, a cucumber went up my ass. Three times.

 

Dave Attell

 

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start

 

Sylvia Plath

 

I remember the first slap, just as I was being brought in. Already then something was lost forever, a basic trust. If there's an exquisite collection of Meissen porcelain and a man takes a cup and deliberately drops it to the floor, shattering it, why wouldn't he then proceed to break everything else? What difference does it make, cup or tureen, once the man has made clear his disregard for porcelain? With that first blow, something akin to porcelain shattered in me. It was a hard slap, forceful yet casual, given for no reason, before I had even identified myself. If they would do that to me, why wouldn't they do worse? Indeed, how could they stop themselves? A single blow is a dot, meaningless. It's a line that is wanted, a connection between the dots that will give purpose and direction. One blow demands a second and then a third and onwards.

 

Yann Martel

 

"Tomorrow, go forth and stand before the Lord. A great and strong wind will blow over you and rend the mountains and break in pieces the rocks, but the Lord will not be in the wind. And after the wind and earthquake, but the Lord will not be in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord will not be in the fire. And after the fire a gentle, cooling breeze. That is where the Lord will be."
This is how the spirit comes. After the gale, the earthquake, and fire: a gentle, cooling breeze. This is how it will come in our own day as well. We are passing through the period of earthquake, the fire is approaching, and eventually (when? after how many generations?) the gentle, cool breeze will blow.

 

Nikos Kazantzakis

 

The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.

 

Thomas Moore