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Brother!
— if we were rich
we'd stick our chests out
and hold our heads high!
--
"Libertad! Igualidad! Fraternidad!"

 

William Carlos Williams

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I love to think of Him in the world of light to-day, my brother; mine though angels bow before Him, and archangels veil their faces; mine though I am very far from heaven's holiness and heaven's joy; yet He is my brother, and every beating of His heart is a brother's love for me, and though high and lifted up,H'sarm, a brother's, is around me, and will keep me and uphold me, until He gives me a brother's welcome to His and my home in the better land.

 

Abbott Eliot Kittredge

 

Everything has two handles, the one by which it may be carried, the other by which it cannot. If your brother acts unjustly, don't lay hold on the action by the handle of his injustice, for by that it cannot be carried; but by the opposite, that he is your brother, that he was brought up with you; and thus you will lay hold on it, as it is to be carried. (43).

 

Epictetus

 

Everything has two handles, one by which it may be borne, the other by which it may not. If your brother sin against you lay not hold of it by the handle of his injustice, for by that it may not be borne: but rather by this, that he is your brother, the comrade of your youth; and thus you will lay hold on it so that it may be borne. (174).

 

Epictetus

 

Some people think I'm high on stage; I would never get high before a show, because, when I'm high, I don't wanna stand in front of a bunch of people I don't know. That does not sound comfortable. Like, when you're high, and a joke doesn't work, it's extra scary. It's like,"Whoa, what the hell happened there? I am retreating within myself. Why have all these people gathered? And why am I elevated? Why am I not facing the same way as everyone else? And what is this electric stick in my hand?"

 

Mitch Hedberg

 

Then this song came on—I will never forget it—it was called "The Funk Soul Brother." And I will always remember that because it was also all of the lyrics... and, er, it was that school of songwriting, you know, very easy on the words in case they get wasted, I don't know what- there's a shortage, and... it sounded like a million fire engines chasing ten million ambulances through a war zone and was played at a volume that made the empty chair beside me bleed. And it went, erm, "Funk soul brother... right about now... yeah... it's the, it's the funk soul brother... check it out. It's, er, well... it's the funk soul brother, essentially. He's, er, he's coming. He's coming at you. It's the... well... it's the funk soul brother." And after a while, I began to penetrate the meaning of this song, you know? I gathered that somebody was about to arrive, and everybody else was terribly excited - maybe he was bringing cake, or something, they didn't say - but the thing was, you see, he wasn't there yet. Ha ha, that was the hook! And I'm not saying it's a bad song, you know, or anything like that. All I'm saying is that if you get, I don't know, a broom, say, and dip it in some brake fluid, put the other end up my arse, stick me on a trampoline in a moving lift, and I would write a better song on the walls. That's all I'm saying.

 

Dylan Moran