Sunday, December 22, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Dane Cook

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You know I am glad he is an atheist. Because wouldn't it be great that while he is doing his little tree thing, i know they do a lot of work with breezes, through the woods a huge sweaty guy with an ax comes long, sees him " chop-chop", puts a chain around him, drag him through the mud and the muck, throws him into a sawmill and grinds him up " NEEEEEEEEEEE", then you pound him down into paper, and once he's paper, you print the Bible on him.

 
Dane Cook

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Thom Yorke: "I really try to limit [listening to other people's music while working on new songs], but M.I.A.'s first record really seeped in. M.I.A. takes this complete block and chop repeat, chop repeat, chop, not finished [method]. Which really reminds me of that thing of just picking up a guitar and the first three chords you write and being like, yep, that's good. Stop. End. Not sort of sitting there fifteen hours later agonizing over the hi-hat sound. That seems to be what happens with programming and electronica a lot of the time. You can feel the pain going on."

 
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"So you'll be wanting all these hydrangeas chopped down, then?"
"Whatever for?" Charmain said.
"I like to chop things down," the kobold explained. "Chief pleasure of gardening."

 
Diana Wynne Jones
 

"So you'll be wanting all these hydrangeas chopped down, then?"
"Whatever for?" Charmain said.
"I like to chop things down," the kobold explained. "Chief pleasure of gardening."

 
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A leading Welsh minister — and Welsh ministers are, I think, among the best preachers — was invited to preach an anniversary sermon before one of the great societies in London. Naturally anxious to disregard no propriety, he consulted the proper authority, the secretary. "Should I read my sermon?" "Oh, it is no matter, only bring some of your Welsh fire with you." " But you cannot, my dear sir, carry fire on paper." "No, that is true; but you may use the paper to kindle the fire."

 
John (Presbyterian pastor) Hall
 

"Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You see how fake it all is. It's not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It's a paper town. I mean look at it, Q: look at all those cul-de-sacs, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too. I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters."

 
John Green
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