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Samuel Beckett

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I felt weak, perhaps I was.

 
Samuel Beckett

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Isn't it extraordinary that the Prime Minister of our country can't even urge his Party to back his own position. Weak! Weak! Weak!

 
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He began to think about semblance, as Ansky had discussed it in his notebook, and he began to think about himself. He felt free, as he never had in his life, and although malnourished and weak, he also felt the strength to prolong as far as possible this impulse toward freedom, toward sovereignty. And yet the possibility that it was all nothing but semblance troubled him. Semblance was an occupying force of reality, he said to himself, even the most extreme, borderline reality. It lived in people's souls and their actions, in willpower and in pain, in the way memories and priorities were ordered. Semblance proliferated in the salons of the industrialists and in the underworld. It set the rules, it rebelled against its own rules...it set new rules.

 
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But to go deeper, beneath what people said (and these judgements, how superficial, how fragmentary they are!) in her own mind now, what did it mean to her, this thing she called life? Oh, it was very queer. Here was So-and-so in South Kensington; some one up in Bayswater; and somebody else, say, in Mayfair. And she felt quiet continuously a sense of their existence and she felt what a waste; and she felt what a pity; and she felt if only they could be brought together; so she did it. And it was an offering; to combine, to create; but to whom?

 
Virginia Woolf
 

"I used to think being a good warrior meant not caring. About anything, myself especially. I took every risk i could. I flung myself in the path of demons. I think I gave Alec a complex about what kind of fighter he was, just because he wanted to live. I alway thought love made you stupid. Made you weak. A bad shadowhunter. To love is to destroy. I believed that. And then I met you. You were a mundane. Weak. Not a fighter. Never trained. And then I saw how much you loved your mother, loved Simon, and how you'd walk into hell to save them.------ Love didn't make you weak, it made you stronger than anyone I'd ever met. And I realized I was the one who was weak."

 
Cassandra Clare
 

As I walked down to the end of the barracks, there was applause from the men too weak to get out of bed. It sounded like the hand clapping of babies; they were so weak.

 
Edward R. Murrow
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