Diane Cluck is a virtuosic talent with an emotionality that feels at once ancient and alien. Her mastery of her voice as an ecstatic instrument is so compelling.
Without taking enforcement actions against all criminal aliens, programs such as Secure Communities may result in large numbers of identified criminal aliens being released back into the society which, of course, is an unacceptable outcome for our communities.
The thing I don't understand is why so often one hears discussion of the fruits of human labor as if it's all the creation of some alien race.
Terence: nihil humanum alienum a me-"nothing human is alien to me," the greatest expression of ancient megalopsychia or great-souled and cosmopolitan "magnanimity."
I think I would not be described as a character actor in that I don't take on characteristics which are very alien to me.
The Alien is gross, scary. There is something in a human being that looks at them and sees it as a cockroach. You can never feel nurturing towards the cockroach.
Courtesy gives its owner a passport round the world. It transmutes aliens into trusting friends.
I am so grateful for my physical therapist, Teresa England, who taught me to respect the process of recovery. Healing is sometimes slow, and any pace but fast was alien to me. To me, the idea of patience and gradual progress was a very foreign idea. I truly learned patience from this woman, and how to appreciate the smallest signs of improvement.
America: Twenty million illegal aliens can't be wrong!
There in the midst of German life is an alien and isolated race of men. Loud and self-conscious in their dress, hot-blooded and restless in their manner. An Asiatic horde on the sandy plains of Prussia. Forming among themselves a close corporation, rigorously shut off from the rest of the world.
The love that interferes and knows not how to leave alone is a love alien to Nature's ways.
Conventional manners are a kind of literacy test for the alien who comes among us.
Civilisation is never so charming as when it is an island in the middle of simplicity, or of a civilisation of an alien kind.
I wonder if, in fact, we have been observed by aliens and upon close examination of human conduct and human behavior they have concluded that there is no sign of intelligent life on Earth.
Humans have been in the grip of pain for eons, ever since they fell from the state of grace, entered the realm of time and mind, and lost awareness of Being. At that point, they started to perceive themselves as meaningless fragments in an alien universe, unconnected to the Source and to each other.
The central objective in decolonising the African mind is to overthrow the authority which alien traditions exercise over the African. This demands the dismantling of white supremacist beliefs, and the structures which uphold them, in every area of African life. It must be stressed, however, that decolonisation does not mean ignorance of foreign traditions; it simply means denial of their authority and withdrawal of allegiance from them.
Issuing an insurance policy against abduction by aliens seems a pretty safe bet.
Even in my own life, there are memories I have that are difficult to explain - happenings that are so odd and unaccountably weird, that it is difficult to imagine they were not the result of prolonged and frequent contact with aliens throughout my life.
It is unfair for our hospitals to bear a hugely disproportionate burden for mandated emergency health treatment for illegal aliens.
So often the monsters that crowd our minds are nothing more than the strange and thoroughly alien progeny of our own fearful fantasies.
The future. Space travel, or cosmology. Alternate universes. Time travel. Robots. Marvelous inventions. Immortality. Catastrophes. Aliens. Superman. Other dimensions. Inner space, or the psyche. These are the ideas that are essential to science fiction. The phenomena change, the basic ideas do not. These ideas are the same philosophical concepts that have intrigued mankind throughout history.
Joel Lane documents a life we don’t quite live, in a city we can’t quite find: half glimpsed and half imagined, we know it’s out there somewhere. Waiting, maybe. Mixing fear with desire, reputation with regret. Touching the blood-beat of our secret hunger with the rhythms of a music that never felt alien till now. Wasted lives, with never a wasted word. It’s an extraordinary achievement: vivid as neon, real as rain. Devastating.
When I'm the speaker, I know that special moment [just before speaking] is the only time I will have the entire audience's full attention. Unless an alien spaceship crash-lands on stage midway through the talk, the silence before I begin is the most powerful moment I have. What defines how well I'll do starts with how I use the power of that moment.
I wasn't safe. I wasn't permanent. My life was a fiction I had created, like an alien who comes to earth and tries to pass as human. The affections of my friends meant nothing to me, directed, as they were, toward a person who wasn't there. There was nobody home.
We are women. We are a subject people who have inherited an alien culture.
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