Having placed in my mouth sufficient bread for three minutes' chewing, I withdrew my powers of sensual perception and retired into the privacy of my mind, my eyes and face assuming a vacant and preoccupied expression.
A Peculiar Man
There was nothing unusual in the appearance of Mr. John Furriskey but actually he had one distinction that is rarely encountered—he was born at the age of twenty-five and entered the world with a memory but without a personal experience to account for it.
When Brushing Mouth Stones
If a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflection, what he sees is not a true reproduction of himself but a picture of himself when he was a younger man
I discovered that everything you do is in response to a request or a suggestion made to you by some other party either inside you or outside
Ten years on, how does it feel to have the famous video?
It actually feels great, really.
we've influenced people's lives
we've changed people's lives
To know you've been part of something
and know you created something
that's had that impact
is wonderful actually.
Where has the video taken us as a family?
All over the world, actually.
We've been to America to film adverts
We've had 10s of people in the house
We've obviously gone around the county
we've met lots and lots of very interesting people
and WE KNOW
that lots of very interesting people have also watched the video
and written to us
How much money has the video made us?
I think I was quoted
a couple of years ago saying that if things progressed
and the ways things moved
then a million pounds
would be a realistic expectation
and you know,
that's a figure that's worth holding onto
I dare say it might be the most interesting thing on your blog, though you do again, have yours truly to thank for that one.
Thank you, very much appreciated.
At least you're capable of recognising that you're an asshole that engages in pointless arguments. That is definitely one very obvious difference between us, because I write for purpose and I don't argue, and certainly wouldn't be caught dead doing so just for 'the fuck of it' as you seem to be fond of doing.
I never thought of it like that.
You're really quite fragile
You write badly formatted crap post-teen crap
Your posts aren't what I think anyone considers 'an enjoyable read'
Never claimed they were, to be fair to me here.
Until you have this many views on one of your posts (see attachment). The most 'read/established blog', that crown is also mine, especially seeing as 4,000 of those views were made within 3 days. You'll have to try a LOT harder though and quite frankly, I don't think it's possible with the content and style of writing you have.
I never knew such crown existed but it is undoubtedly yours.
You're lucky I don't have half a mind to come back and publicly ridicule you for the cheap hack you are. Well anyone with half a brain will realise after wasting time reading just one of your posts that there's nothing worth commenting on at all.
And yet he envied them; the more he became like them, the more he envied them. He envied them the one thing that he lacked and that they had: the sense of importance with which they lived their lives, the depth of their pleasures and sorrows, the anxious but sweet happiness of their continual power to love. These people were always in love with themselves, with their children, with honor or money, with plans or hope. But these he did not learn from them, these child-like pleasures and follies; he only learned the unpleasant things from them which he despised.
The world had caught him; pleasure, covetousness, idleness, and finally also that vice he had always despised and scorned as the most foolish—acquisitiveness. Property, possessions and riches had also finally trapped him. They were no longer a game and a toy. They had become a chain and a burden.
He could no longer distinguish the different voices— the merry voice from the weeping voice, the childish voice from the manly voice. They all belonged to each other: the lament of those who yearn, the laughter of the wise, the cry of indignation, and the groan of the dying. They were all interwoven and interlocked, entwined in a thousand ways. And all the voices, all the goals, all the yearnings, all the sorrows, all the pleasures, all the good and evil, all of them together was the world, all of them together were the streams of events and the music of life.