Bertha Wegmann (1847-1926) "Resignation" (1890) Oil on canvas
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Bertha Wegmann (1847-1926) "Resignation" (1890) Oil on canvas
Sigh
(Batman Volume 4 #7)
Went out in the manner he governed, I guess.
They were, by now, alone except for the huge snoring man. The other two had got out and joined the travelers on top.
The main cause of this was Greebo. With a cat's unerring instinct for people who dislike cats he'd leapt heavily into their laps and given them the "young masser back on de ole plantation" treatment. And he'd treadled them into submission and then settled down and gone to sleep, claws gripping not sufficiently to draw blood but definitely to suggest that this was an option should the person move or breathe. And then, when he was sure they were resigned to the situation, he'd started to smell.
No one knew where it came from. It was not associated with any known orifice. It was just that, after five minutes' doze, the air above Greebo had a penetrating smell of fermented carpets.
Terry Pratchett, Maskerade
“They want to be part of the resistance? Yeah, bring it on,” the U.S. attorney general said.
Attorney General Pam Bondi lashed out at six federal prosecutors who reportedly resigned after refusing to prosecute the widow of Renee Nicole Good, the Minnesota woman killed last week by an ICE officer.
“We had six prosecutors who suddenly decided they didn’t want to support the men and women in ICE,” said Bondi, as she visibly fumed Thursday on Fox News’ “Hannity.” “One of them was busy doing a photo shoot with The New York Times while ICE was out there risking their lives.”
Videos of the incident showed Good inside her car, partially blocking a road in her Minneapolis neighborhood, and then attempting to drive, when an Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer identified as Jonathan Ross approached and fired multiple shots, killing her.
But everybody knows life isn't worth living. Deep down I knew perfectly well that it doesn't much matter whether you die at thirty or at seventy, since in either case other men and women will naturally go on living—and for thousands of years. In fact, nothing could be clearer. Whether it was now or twenty years from now, I would still be the one dying. At that point, what would disturb my train of thought was the terrifying leap I would feel my heart take at the idea of having twenty more years of life ahead of me.
…what did his God or the lives people choose or the fate they think they elect matter to me when we're all elected by the same fate, me and billions of privileged people like him who also called themselves my brothers?
…for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.