Whenever this happened he used to experience a peculiar tingling round the back of his neck that would slowly creep up across his cheeks and heat his brow. The image of mud and grass and lots of little jeering boys flinging it at him suddenly came vividly to his mind at this moment. (163)

The stone-cold fear which had been hovering around Arthur all this time, waiting for its moment, recognized that its moment had now come and pounced on him. He tried to fight it off. He dropped into a kind of alert crouch that he had once seen somebody do on television, but it must have been someone with stronger knees. He peered huntedly into the darkness.
    'Er, hello?' he said.
    He cleared his throat and said it again, more loudly and without the 'er'. At some distance down the corridor it seemed suddenly as if somebody started to beat on a bass drum.
    He listed to it for a few seconds and realized that it was just his heart beating.
    He listened for a few seconds more and realized that it wasn't his heart, it was somebody down the corridor beating on a bass drum. (386)

-- and she knew that even pain can be confessed, but to confess happiness is to stand naked, delivered to the witness, yet they could let each other see it without need of protection. (668)

And what, incidentally, do you suppose integrity is? The ability not to pick a watch out of your neighbor's pocket? No, it's not as easy as that. If that were all, I'd say ninety-five percent of humanity were honest, upright men. Only, as you can see, they aren’t. Integrity is the ability to stand by an idea. (313)

It's something in myself that i don't want to face again. I'm sorry to choose you as the example. But you suit so well. You -- Peter, you're everything I despise in the world and I don't want to remember how much I despise it. (250)

Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched. The things where are sacred or precious to us are the things we withdraw from promiscuous sharing. (607)

This insight has led me to look at all sides of every argument. (200)

some more excerpts from the china scene section of the china daily

Student flees through window to Net cafe A 15-year old boy who was so obsessed with the Internet fled home last Wednesday through a window to go to an Internet cafe, reports Yangtze Evening News. The boy cut his bed sheet into pieces and escaped with the rope made from the sheets. But he fell from the second floor, waking his neighbors who called the police. The boy was finally found in an Internet cafe the next morning.

TEACHER seeks pupil. Must have an earnest desire to save the world. Apply in person. (4)

But the tiger you see madly pacing its cage is nevertheless preoccupied with something that a human would certainly recognize as a thought. And this thought is a question: Why? "Why, why, why, why, why, why?" the tiger asks itself hour after hour, day after day, year after year, as it treads its endless path behind the bars of its cage. It cannot analyze the question or elaborate on it. If you were somehow able to ask the creature, "Why what? it would be unable to answer you. Nevertheless this question burns like an unquenchable flame in its mind, inflicting a searing pain that does not diminish until the creature lapses into a final lethargy that zookeepers recognize as an irreversible rejection of life. (11)

Man's place is to be the first. Man's place is to be the first without being the last. (242)

one thing i discovered a few days ago - which i really wish i'd seen sooner - is the China Scene section of The China Daily, one of the government-sponsored English language newspapers. i'm not sure if they're trying to be funny when they write these blurbs, but they're as good as the onion (reproduced verbatim):

Drunkard drinks boiling water: A drunk man in Nanjing drank boiling water directly from a thermos bottle and seriously injured his throat, neck and chest, reports Yangtze Evening News. The man surnamed Liu, 35, likes drinking spirits very much and is always getting drunk, according to his wife. Liu had a gathering with several of his friends and got drunk again one night last month. When he returned home, he shouted that he was very thirsty. Before his wife could offer him water, Liu took the thermos and started drinking from it.

Her clear face combined an air of innocence with something as saucy and irreverent as a hot cross bun. (19)

All these things the Duchess Gloriana XII thought of as she rode her ducal bicycle from the castle to Tully’s cottage on the fringes of the forest. (14)

Men could not expect to share much with their wives. Mandell Creighton wrote that he found “ladies in general very unsatisfactory mental food.; they seem to have no particular thoughts or ideas, and though for a time it is flattering to one’s vanity to think one may teach them some, it palls after a while. Of course at a certain age, when you have a house and so on, you get a wife as part of its furniture, and find her a very comfortable institution.” (83)

Backpackers on Ko Pha-Ngan looked nothing like the tourist on Ko Samui. At first glance, though, they did all look like each other. Everyone looked good, in the way young people do when they have lost a stone and grown used to wearing hardly any clothes. They were scuffed with bites and bruises, but these imperfections were all part of the look and so didn’t really stand out. The Italians had good skin and wild hair, the Dutch had tattoos, and Americans came in rather serious, thiry-something couple, or as galumphing college boys, but this was as much as we noticed at first. To the naked eye, the Ko Pha-Ngan dress code appeared to by entirely relaxed.
       It took a day or so to grasp the full hierarchy of style rules. A sensible Netherlands sandal was unsexy, but an obviously sexy shoe was out of the question, so anything involving straps or heels was unwise. A flip-flop worked best, implying frugality as well as beach bum/mountain goat agility. It was also important to have a tan deep enough to suggest you took being a backpacker seriously. They correct positioning of the know in one’s sarong was evidently a fraught issue; we watched one girl discreetly tie and re-tie hers using the reflection of a window for fifteen minutes. Bikinis were strictly of the stringy sort, thongs being too Baywatch, and underwired cups too C&A, and ethnic jewelry was essential, although too much betrayed amateurish enthusiasm. Combat shorts were all right for boys, if worn topless with a good tan, and the classier girl traveler rolled the waistband of her skirt down into a hipster. Here and there you would spy pale-skinned boys wearing long trousers and Ben Sherman shirts. They stood about awkwardly, studying everyone else’s outfits with dismay.
        Friendliness was taken for inexperience, and considered shamefully gauche… (Decca Aitkenhead)

It was in his clear moments he was troubled. It wasn’t the wound, though it hurt at every step, and it wasn’t the dive-bombers circling over the beach some miles to the north. It was his mind. Periodically, something slipped. Some everyday principle of continuity, the humdrum element that told him where he was in his own story, faded from his use, abandoning him to a waking dream in which there were thoughts, but no sense of who was having them. (35 - Ian McEwan)

The goal of using ICT with marginalized groups is not to overcome a digital divide but rather to further a process of social inclusion. (8)

The starting point for a progressive consideration of ICT in any institution should not be the digital divide and how to overcome it but rather the broader social structures and functions of the institutions and how ICT might be used to help make them more democratic, equitable, and socially inclusive. (209)

It is possible that clinics will supply take-home do-it-yourself kits for parents who are willing to learn the necessary skills. Having reprogenic babies at home might become a popular hobby, like desk-top publishing today. (111)

Dear Aliens, your silence puts us to shame. Please forgive us for making so much noise in this beautiful universe which we are sharing with you. Please be patient when we are impatient, be gentle when we are rough, be wise when we are stupid. We are a young species and still have much to learn. (165)

Smeed's Rule says that you can either get something done or get the credit for it, but not both. To be effective in influencing policy or in changing society, you must make sure that people in positions of power accept your ideas as their own. You can never know whether your personal influence was or was not decisive. (10)

All the prisoners here are indistinguishable from civilians; the government does not have the money to provide them with the prisoners’ uniforms. I asked on guard if the prisoners were ever tempted to escape, given that, once they did, they would look like any other man in the street. Escape? he looked at me with genuine incredulity. Here, he said, they get a bowl of soup. Out there they would be dying of hunger like everyone else. The prisoners, he stressed, are our enemies - that is true. But they are not idiots.

-Ryszard Kapuscinski

Siobhan says that if you raise one eyebrow it can mean lots of different things. It can mean "I want to do sex with you" and it can also mean "I think that what you just said was very stupid." (15)

I had learned a little about chess on my own in the prior week, even before reading the chess books he'd included: enough to know the difference between tactics and strategy. Tactics were shrot-term moves to position yourself. But strategy was how you won the game. (229)

He ties the last bag and takes it to the door.  Twenty-three.  There is only the young dog left, the one who likes music, the one who, given half a chance, would already have lollopped after his comrades into the clinic building, into the theatre with its zinc-topped table where the rich, mixed smells still linger, including one he will not yet have met with in his life: the smell of expiration, the soft, short smell of the released soul.

A little further on we saw women chatting in little groups and children playing: we were excited to be approaching civilian life, the first we had seen in all the months since our imprisonment. As we trooped quietly past, the children started shouting at us: 'Kaffirs…coolies', and some even began to throw stones. One little boy of about five was standing on a small platform build in his yard, pointing a home-made toy rifle at us and yelling in his little voice: 'Kaffirs, ed skiet julle kaffirs, I'm shooting you.' (59)

editorial: does anyone else see any similarities between w. bush and young harry? not that bush will ever glitter o'er his fault, but it does seem too tempting to cast w. aside as a frivolous youth, when he is in fact much more intelligent and dangerous...

EXETER
  Suffolk first died;  and York, all haggled over,
  Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped,
  And takes him by his beard, kisses the gashes
  That bloodily did yawn upon his face,
  And cries aloud, “Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
  My soul shall thine keep company to heaven.
  Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast;
  As in this glorious and well-foughten field
  We kept together in our chivalry!”

KING
  O sleep, O gentle sleep,
  Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
  That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
  And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
  Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
  Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee
  And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
  Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
  Under the canopies of costly state,
  And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?  (III, i, 6)

GLENDOWER:
  I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
HOTSPUR:
  Why, so can I, or so can any man;
  But will they come when you do call for them? (III, i, 13)

Consider, even, an Africa unconquered altogether. Imagine those first Portuguese adventurers approaching the sore, spying the jungle’s edge through their fitted brass lenses. Imagine that by some miracle of dread or reverence they lowered their spyglasses, turned, set their riggings, sailed on. (7-8)

I do not want this brief foreword to be a Bright-Sayings-of-the-Children essay or the kind of eulogy that any fond and bereaved parent may be forgiven for trying to put on paper. (5)

("the only convincing love story of our century" - vanity fair)

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. (9)

(The crew of her soul rushed up the deck of her body.) (51)

The wise man can pick up a grain of sand and envision a whole universe. But the stupid man will just lie down on some seaweed and roll around until he's completely draped in it. Then he'll stand up and go, "Hey, I'm Vine Man."

Whenever you read a good book, it's like the author is right there, in the room, talking to you, which is why I don't like to read good books.

If God dwells inside us, like some people say, I sure hope He likes enchiladas, because that's what He's getting!

Children need encouragement. So if a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way, he develops a good, lucky feeling.

One day one of my little nephews came up to me and asked me if the equator was a real line that went around the Earth, or just an imaginary one. I had to laugh. Laugh and laugh. Because I didn't know, and I thought that maybe by laughing he would forget what he asked me.

I don't pretend to have all the answers. I don't pretend to even know what the questions are. Hey, where am I?

When you go ice-skating, try not to swing your arms too much, because that really annoys me.

Ambition is like a frog sitting on a Venus's-flytrap. The flytrap can bite and bite, but it won't bother the frog because it only has little tiny plant teeth. But some other stuff could happen and it could be like ambition.

Whenever someone asks me to define love, I usually think for a minute, then I spin around and pin the guy's arm behind his back. NOW who's asking the questions?

Why do people in ship mutinies always ask for "better treatment"? I'd ask for a pinball machine, because with all that rocking back and forth you'd probably be able to get a lot of free games.

If you ever reach total enlightenment while you're drinking a beer, I bet it makes beer shoot out your nose.

It's easy to sit there and say you'd like to have more money. And I guess that's what I like about it. It's easy. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money.

Is there anything more beautiful than a beautiful, beautiful flamingo, flying across in front of a beautiful sunset? And he's carrying a beautiful rose in his beak, and also he's carrying a very beautiful painting with his feet. And also, you're drunk.

Instead of putting a quarter under a kid's pillow, how about a pinecone? That way, he learns that "wishing" isn't going to save our national forests.

At first I thought, if I were Superman, a perfect secret identity would be "Clark Kent, Dentist," because you could save money on tooth X-rays. But then I thought, if a patient said, "How's my back tooth?" and you just looked at it with your X-ray vision and said, "Oh it's okay," then the patient would probably say, "Aren't you going to take an X-ray, stupid?" and you'd say, "Aw fuck you, get outta here," and then he probably wouldn't even pay his bill.

A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. "Hear that?" you say. "That's dynamite, baby."

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

I guess I kinda lost control, because in the middle of the play I ran up and lit the evil puppet villain on fire. No, I didn't. Just kidding. I just said that to illustrate one of the human emotions, which is freaking out. Another emotion is greed, as when someone kills someone for money, or something like that. Another emotion is generosity, as when you pay someone double what he paid for his stupid puppet.

I remember one day I was at Grandpa's farm and I asked him about sex. He sort of smiled and said, "Maybe instead of telling you what sex is, why don't we go out to the horse pasture and I'll show you." So we did, and there on the ground were my parents having sex.

I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.

It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.