Leaving American disaster victims to languish is morally reprehensible and un-American.
Our generation was supposed to be about trying to deal with nuclear concerns and environmental disasters.
For most women, the success of conservative women is good for all of us, unless you believe in evolution. Actually, I take it back. The whole thing is a disaster.
I love the eyebrow pencils. I do my brows every day. I won't leave my house without my brows! My beauty disaster from childhood was trying to look like Kate Moss and plucking all my brows off.
I want an iPhone 5, someone said something nasty on twitter, or my boyfriend isn't texting me back, like whatever the thing is that seems so major in your life, when a real disaster hits you suddenly strips it all away and you see what's really important and who you really are.
It's not a mid-life crisis. It's a mid-life disaster. A mid-life crisis is when you wake up with everything and you go "I have everything but I'm still unhappy."
Bad news, it's going to be a huge environmental disaster, the oil rig down there in the Gulf of Mexico. The good news is they think now that the oil spill will be diluted by the melting ice caps.
Those who have not undergone minor disasters are usually being held in reserve for something major
Always try to turn a marketing disaster into a marketing opportunity.
Martha Stewart published her recipe for disaster -- mix one part arrogance with two parts incompetence, simmer in the juices and then serve hot in the can.
When disaster waves, I try not to wave back.
If you are passionate only about yourself -that is the road to disaster.
What opium is instilled into all disaster? It shows formidable as we approach it, but there is at last no rough rasping friction,but the most slippery sliding surfaces. We fall soft on a thought.
We have become frighteningly effective at altering nature.
When you think I've been wounded by a good five bullets, one in the face, one in the shoulder, one in the head, two in the body, and that the last one stuck in the barrel because the trigger jammed... You have to believe in miracles. I've had so many air disasters, and yet I've always come out unscathed - thanks to a miracle while by God and the prophets.
A first hint of the power of the electronic media to bring disaster directly into living rooms came with the radio broadcast of the explosion of the zeppelin "Hindenburg," in 1937 . . .
Pity is a sense of our own misfortunes in those of another man; it is a sort of foresight of the disasters which may befall ourselves. We assist others,, in order that they may assist us on like occasions; so that the services we offer to the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses to ourselves.
Paradoxical as it may seem, God means not only to make us good, but to make us also happy, by sickness, disaster and disappointment.
If the World War [I] demonstrated anything it was that government ownership is fraught with the gravest dangers and usually leads to disaster. Take Britain. The two problems which have caused the greatest trouble since the war ended have been transportation and coal. The government seized both industries when the war broke out. It got them into such a hopeless mess that it does not know how to turn [In] coal; the government now realizes, it took hold of the tail of a wild animal and is afraid to let go.
Which class is happiest, the rich, the middle class or the poor? A very successful executive of a large organization touches upon this vital subject in a long letter to all his salesmen. He uses as his text a passage from Robinson Crusoe which included this: ""My Father bid me observe it, and I should always find that the calamities of life were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind; but that the middle station had the fewest disasters, and were not exposed to so many vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind.
People who are genuinely involved in life, not just living a routine they've contrived to protect them from disaster, always seem to have more demanded of them than they can easily take on.
Alas! the road to Anywhere is pitfalled with disaster; There's hunger, want, and weariness, yet O we loved it so! As on we tramped exultantly, and no man was our master, And no man guessed what dreams were ours, as, swinging heel and toe, We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic road to Anywhere, The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years ago.
In this moment she felt that she had been robbed of an enormous number of valuable things, whether material or intangible: things lost or broken by her own fault, things she had forgotten and left in houses when she moved: books borrowed from her and not returned, journeys she had planned and had not made, words she had waited to hear spoken to her and had not heard, and the words she meant to answer with. . . .
. . . all that she had had, and all that she had missed, were lost together, and were twice lost in this landslide of remembered losses.
This is a bond nothing can ever loosen. What I have lost: what I possess forever.
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