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Home Belief Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.

BeliefIndividuality

Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.

Polly, January 31, 2013

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Tags : Albert Einstein

Before God we are all equally wise – equally foolish.

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Why does this magnificent applied science which saves work and makes life easier bring us so little happiness? The simple answer runs: because we have not yet learned to make sensible use of it.

Polly

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Yes, you are right – I am a moralist in disguise; it gets me into heaps of trouble when I go thrashing around in political questions

Yes, you are right – I am a moralist in disguise; it gets me into heaps of trouble when I go thrashing around in political questions

Maybe I couldn’t make it. Maybe I don’t have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don’t know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I’m sick of the masquerade. I’m sick of pretending eternal youth. I’m sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I’m sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I’m sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I’m sick of the Powder Room. I’m sick of pretending that some fatuous male’s self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I’m sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I’m sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.

Maybe I couldn’t make it. Maybe I don’t have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don’t know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I’m sick of the masquerade. I’m sick of pretending eternal youth. I’m sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I’m sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I’m sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I’m sick of the Powder Room. I’m sick of pretending that some fatuous male’s self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I’m sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I’m sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.

An oppressive government is more to be feared than a tiger.

An oppressive government is more to be feared than a tiger.

Be as a strong tower, that never bows its head to the force of the wind.

Be as a strong tower, that never bows its head to the force of the wind.

The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.

The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness.

A noisy man is always in the right.

A noisy man is always in the right.

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