Demissie Teka Quotes & Sayings

The first thing the male establishment wants to control is uterus and birth. You might call it womb envy. But even worse is the fact we are still using the male model of sexual response for women. — Betty Dodson

Jim, here's what I'm going to do," Kalinske said, now skimming through his Rolodex. "I think I have the name of someone who might be very interested in hearing about what SGI has to offer." Kalinske scrolled past the beginning of the alphabet, slowing down as he approached the letter L. "Do you have a pen ready?" He kept skimming until he got to the contact information he was searching for: Lincoln, Howard. — Blake J. Harris

I have stuff from 1979, 1980 in my collection. But I also have things from 2012. So I don't know if it's memorabilia as much as it is holding on to things that I find relevant that most people might not. — Ian MacKaye

When I was young and knew Virginia Woolf slightly, I learned something that startled me - that a person may be ultrasensitive and not warm. She was intensely curious and plied one with questions, teasing, charming questions that made the young person glow at being even for a moment the object of her attention. But I did feel at times as though I were "a specimen American young poet" to be absorbed and filed away in the novelist's store of vicarious experience. Then one had also the daring sense that anything could be said, the sense of freedom that was surely one of the keys to the Bloomsbury ethos, a shared secret amusement at human folly or pretensions. She was immensely kind to have seen me for at least one tea, as she did for some years whenever I was in England, but in all that time I never felt warmth, and this was startling. — May Sarton

She is staring into hell and I'm not brave enough to join her. — Daniel H. Wilson

America's last pioneers, urban nomads in search of wide open interior spaces — Cathleen McGuigan

You hope in this life that you grow and don't always repeat your mistakes. — Tony Dorsett

Villages that had been groaning beneath the iron weight of Stalin's hand breathed a sigh of relief. And the many millions confined in the camps rejoiced. Columns of prisoners were marching to work in deep darkness. The barking of guard dogs drowned out their voices. And suddenly, as if the northern lights had flashed the words through their ranks: "Stalin has died." As they marched on under guard, tens of thousands of prisoners passed the news on in a whisper: "He's croaked ... he's croaked ... " Repeated by thousand upon thousand of people, this whisper was like a wind. Over the polar lands it was still black night. But the ice in the Arctic Ocean had broken; you could now hear the roar of an ocean of voices. — Vasily Grossman

I don't like life that much. It's not that big a deal for me ... I don't want to know I have cancer till it's visible to the naked eye. — Doug Stanhope