我的文学网
句子首页
诗词古文
书籍摘抄
影视台词
名人名言
网络语录
用户原创
注册
登录
选择频道
文章
汉字
句子
诗词
人物
图书
词语
搜索
搜索结果
按时间
按热度
按评论
按分数
按支持量
Dead Toad Scrolls
“Acts of brutality committed by the ruling elite and systematic oppression of the weak stain every era of civilization. Ethnic wars and religious cleansing still exist in the twenty-first century. Just as insidious as state sponsored murder is the escalating economic expansion that destroys the habitat and displaces indigenous tribes’ way of life under the false moniker of economic and social progress.”
War
Violence
Wars
Oppression
Warfare
Oppressed
Refugees
Brutality
Armed Conflicts
Varangian: Book One of the Byzantum Saga
“We are the sons of that beast, Almuric, we are but spruced up- urbane predators. What else, if not a talent for violence separates the aristocracy from the peasantry? We are the nobility for the very fact that we are able to visit more violence upon them than they can upon us. History is written by nations with superior violence. The greatest civilizations to ever have existed were allowed such lofty cultivations only because of their divine brutality- their ability to vanquish those nations standing in the path of their destiny"
- Grand Champion, Count Húracan
Excerpt from
Varangian: Book One of the Byzantum Saga”
Philosophy
Medieval
History
Political Philosophy
Military
Historical Fiction
Vikings
Byzantine History
Varangian
Dead Toad Scrolls
“A person desires more out of life than simply makeshift survival. How does a person live sensationally? Must we pursue pleasure wherever and however we can find it? Alternatively, must a person suppress or at least check some of their instinctive, beastly desires to forge a quality state of happiness? Arguably, a majority of people benefit when each person labors to control their personage. On the other hand, perchance the Ancient Romans were correct openly to embrace the notion that humankind’s base nature demands that all full-bodied persons act to satiate their rapacious lust. Perhaps various religious doctrines and philosophical grumps were correct to embrace an alternative creed that personal happiness and stable community relationships are dependent upon conditioning the masses to exercise self-discipline. Perhaps other thinkers who advocate living passionately devoted to achieving virtuous goals while resisting a path of debauchery present the most gallant argument how to live brilliantly in the face of absurdity. Perchance the test of any ethical code governing how we should live must begin by questioning whether living in accordance with the prescribed guidelines assist us achieve emotional equanimity? Does our lifestyle choice bring harmony to the mind and body? Does our personal protocol facilitate carefree immersion in daily affairs? Does our code of conduct allow us to transcend the impoverishment, corruption, and brutality of our times? Does our moral etiquette enable us to glean satisfaction in the commonplace acts of living carefully? Does our philosophical and ethical methodology allow us to strain the innermost contentment and joy from the purity of nature’s bounty?”
Happiness
Survival
Philosophy Of Life
Lifestyle
Meaningful Life
Personal Philosophy
Code Of Conduct
Personal Satisfaction
“I don’t think anyone deserves to rot in jail the rest of their lives for stealing a pack of cigarettes. The court systems will be no kinder to these people than police have been, and both are avid practitioners of a convenient morality that consigns millions of black Americans to poverty with its selective policies, then persecutes those same black Americans at a disproportionate rate (almost a rate of 1:5) for the same (often nonviolent) crimes, openly regards black Americans with brutality (often killing people in cold blood for no reason other than that they ‘look like’ the grainy photos of 'suspects' I report), and then condemns millions of black Americans, each year, to lives in prison- too often for nothing more than the crime of stealing a pack of cigarettes.”
Race
Journalism
Racial Profiling
Police Brutality
Media Bias
Racial Injustice
Racism In The West
Crime Reporting
It Can't Happen Here
“They were brave and romantic, tragic and distinguished, and Doremus became a little sick of them all and of the final brutality of fact that no normal man can very long endure another's tragedy, and that friendly weeping will some day turn to irritated kicking.”
Tragedy
Irritation
Lack Of Sympathy
The Trump-Russia Hustle: The Truth about Russia's attack on America & how Donald Trump turned Republicans into Putin's puppets
“The Russian oligarchic system is the quintessence of statist depravity, where all industry is controlled by a small number of men ruthless enough to rise to the top of a corrupt patronage system, where government serves the interests of elites, money and privilege flow to the top, the people are exploited through a venomous cocktail of brutality and graft, and truth is the enemy of the state.
Russian oligarchy is economic survival of the fittest, the ultimate, balls-out Darwinian experiment in wealth consolidation by the most wicked, immoral and dishonest ― government of the rich, by the rich, for the rich at the expense and misery of everyone else.”
Russia
Putin
Government Quotes
Government Corruption
Oligarchy
Oligarchs
Vladimir Putin
Putin Quotes
Putinism
The Rich Quotes
“Of course' said Joe, 'I quite realize that in an institution like this, you must have discipline. Please don't think me a foolish sentimentalist. If the order has gone out that the gang is to play croquet, and Number 6408, let us say, wants to play hopscotch, naturally you have to be firm. But discipline is one thing, harshness another. There is a difference between firmness and brutality.”
Wodehouse
Summermoonshine
The Flatshare
“I'm just conveying the brutality of the market to you, Katherin,' I say. That's one of my favourite lines. Good old market, always there to be blamed. "The people don't want history in their crochet books. They want cute pictures and easy instructions.”
Humour
Crafting
Publishing Books
Crochet
The God of Small Things
“Screams died in them and floated belly up, like dead fish. Cowering on the floor, rocking between dread and disbelief, they realized that the man being beaten was Velutha. Where had he come from? What had he done? Why had the policemen brought him here?
They heard the thud of wood on flesh. Boot on bone. On teeth. The muffled grunt when a stomach is kicked in The muted crunch of skull on cement. The gurgle of blood on a man's breath when his lung is torn by the jagged end of a broken rib.
Blue-lipped and dinner-plate-eyed, they watched, mesmerized by something that they sensed but didn't understand: the absence of caprice in what the policemen did. The abyss where anger should have been. The sober, steady brutality, the economy of it all.
They were opening a bottle.
Or shutting a tap.
Cracking an egg to make an omelette.
The twins were too young to know that these were only history’s henchmen. Sent to square the books and collect the dues from those who broke its laws. Impelled by feelings that were primal yet paradoxically wholly impersonal. Feelings of contempt born of inchoate, unacknowledged fear — civilization’s fear of nature, men’s fear of women, power’s fear of powerlessness.
Man’s subliminal urge to destroy what he could neither subdue nor deify.
Men’s Needs.
What Esthappen and Rahel witnessed that morning, though they didn’t know it then, was a clinical demonstration in controlled conditions (this was not war after all, or genocide) of human nature’s pursuit of ascendancy. Structure. Order Complete monopoly. It was human history, masquerading as God’s Purpose, revealing herself to an under-age audience.
There was nothing accidental about what happened that morning. Nothing incidental. It was no stray mugging or personal settling of scores. This was an era imprinting itself on those who lived in it.
History in live performance.”
Beating
Velutha
A Different Drummer
“In the eight months he had been away, he had almost forgotten the gaze he found there, the gaze which came in moments like this, for it was not one of the looks that New Englanders use or have ever used to express a turn of mind or heart; it was a gaze more cold, more mean, more cruel even than the gaze a Vermont farmer gives a stranger asking directions; more cold, more mean, more cruel because it was completely blank, that very blankness a sign of the renunciation of alternatives, of tenderness or brutality, of pleasure or pain, of understanding or ignorance, of belief or disbelief, of compassion or intolerance, of reason or unswerving fanaticism; it was a gaze which signals the flicking off of the switch which controls the mechanism making man a human being; it said: Now we must fight. There is no time or need for talking; violence is already with us, part of us.”
Ignorance
Violence
Intolerence
To Love a Dark Lord
“He reached out his hand and moved her heavy mane of hair away from her neck, stroking her, and he shifted his chair closer, so that his leg pressed against hers through the heavy layers of black silk. His fingers slid lower, brushing against the neckline of her dress, drifting against the swell of breasts.
"Stop it," she hissed, trying to keep all expression from her face. "What will people think?"
"Exactly what I want them to think, my pet," he said.
She tried to scoot her chair away from him, but beneath the flow of her skirts, he'd managed to hook one foot around her chair leg, effectively trapping her against him. In the distance the soprano screeched, the accompanist pounded, and Emma felt uncharacteristically close to tears.
"You said you were doing it for Darnley," she shot back. "He isn't even here."
"But he'll be well informed." He slid his hand up her neck and caught her chin. The strength in those long, pale fingers was palpable, but he wasn't hurting her. Shaming her, arousing her, tormenting her. But there was no brute force in his touch.
In a way, that almost made it worse, Emma thought. Cruelty, brutality, pain could be dealt with, shut out, endured. They were straightforward, something you could fight. But the velvet caress, the banked glance, the knowledge that it was all an elaborate game and she was nothing more than a convenient pawn, a toy to be moved back and forth on the chessboard, made the situation unbearable.
She couldn't help it. A stifled murmur of misery escaped her before she could stop it, and Killoran suddenly stilled. His fingers still cupped her chin, but they were no longer stroking her. He simply stared at her, and for once there was no mockery, no wickedness, in his dark green eyes. He stared at her as if seeing for the first time, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought it was his conscience making a belated appearance.
And then the moment passed, so swiftly it might have never existed. He leaned forward and put his mouth against the swell of her breast. His hand caught hers, holding her there, and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt the shocking caress. He used his tongue.”
James Killoran
Emma And James
Amazon Lee and the Ancient Undead of Rome
“Some say,” Auntabelle said, “that it was because of the Roman’s brutality and the Roman Emperors’ cruelty, especially to the Christians, who were slaughtered in masses at this very place for the entertainment of the Roman citizens, that Rome fell.” - Auntabelle, Amazon Lee and the Ancient Undead of Rome by Kira G. and Kailin Gow”
Faith
Humankind
History
Christians
Rome
Kailin Gow
Amazon Lee Adventures
Kira G
Ancient Civilization
Coliseum
Burning Down the Haus: Punk Rock, Revolution, and the Fall of the Berlin Wall
“In hindsight, it's seen as inevitable that the two Germany's would reunite. But none of the people who had laid the groundwork for the fall-those who had started the tremors and endured the security forces' brutality-envisioned a unified Germany. Those people had sacrificed their places in society for the chance to form a new one, something different and distinct, an independent East Germany built form scratch. The hadn't looked to the West for inspiration before, and none of them looked to the West for salvation now that the border was open.”
Punk
Berlin
Gdr
Berlin Wall
Counter Culture
Ddr
East Berlin
1491: New Revelations of the Americas Before Columbus
“On May 30, 1539, Hernando De Soto landed his private army near Tampa Bay in Florida. De Soto was a novel figure: half warrior, half venture capitalist. He grew very rich very young in Spanish America by becoming a market leader in the nascent slave trade. The profits helped to fund the conquest of the Inka, which made De Soto wealthier still. He accompanied Pizarro to Tawantinsuyu (aka, The Inka Empire), burnishing his reputation for brutality - he personally tortured Challcochima (a leading Inka general of the north) before his execution.
Literally looking for new worlds to conquer, De Soto returned to Spain soon after his exploits in Peru. In Charles V's court he persuaded the bored monarch to let him loose in North America with an expedition of his own. He sailed to Florida with six hundred soldiers, two hundred horses, and three hundred pigs.
From today's perspective, it is difficult to imagine the ethical system that culd justify De Soto's subsequent actions. For four years his force wandered through what are now Florida, Georgia, North and South Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Texas and Louisiana, looking for gold and wrecking most everything it touched. The inhabitants often fought back viorously, but they were baffled by the Spaniards' motives. De Soto and his soldiers managed to rape, torture, enslave, and kill countless Indians. But the worst thing he did, some researchers say, was entirely without malice - he brought pigs.”
Pigs
Florida
Spain
Conquistadors
Charles V
Hernando De Soto
Hernando Pizarro
Small Pox
The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness
“Racial violence has been rationalized, legitimated, and channeled through our criminal justice system; it is expressed as police brutality, solitary confinement, and the discriminatory and arbitrary imposition of the death penalty.”
Capital Punishment
Incarceration
Solitary Confinement
Krishnamurti's Notebook
“July 1st
It’s as though everything stood still. There is no movement, no stirring, complete emptiness of all thought, of all seeing. There is no interpreter to translate, to observe, to censor. An immeasurable vastness that is utterly still and silent. There is no space, nor time to cover that space. The beginning and the ending are here, of all things. There is really nothing that can be said about it.
The pressure and the strain have been going on quietly all day; only now they have increased.
2nd
The thing which happened yesterday, that immeasurable still vastness, went on all the evening, even though there were people and general talk. It went on all night; it was there in the morning. Though there was rather exaggerated, emotionally agitated talk, suddenly in the middle of it, it was there. And it is here, there’s a beauty and a glory and there’s a sense of wordless ecstasy.
The pressure and the strain began rather early.
3rd
Been out all day. All the same, in a crowded town in the afternoon, for two or three hours the pressure and the strain of it was on.
4th
Been busy, but in spite of it, the pressure and the strain of it was there in the afternoon.
Whatever actions one has to do in daily life, the shocks and the various incidents should not leave their scars. These scars become the ego, the self, and as one lives, it becomes strong and its walls almost become impenetrable.
5th
Been too busy but whenever there is some quiet, the pressure and the strain was on.
6th
Last night woke up with that sense of complete stillness and silence; the brain was fully alert and intensely alive; the body was very quiet. This state lasted for about half an hour. This in spite of an exhausting day.
The height of intensity and sensitivity is the experiencing of essence. It’s this that is beauty beyond word and feeling. Proportion and depth, light and shade are limited to time-space, caught in beauty-ugliness. But that which is beyond line and shape, beyond learning and knowledge, is the beauty of essence.
7th
Woke up several times shouting. Again there was that intense stillness of the brain and a feeling of vastness. There has been pressure and strain.
Success is brutality. Success in every form, political and religious, art and business. To be successful implies ruthlessness.”
Jiddu Krishnamurti
The Origins of Totalitarianism
“The truth is that the masses grew out of the fragments of a highly atomized society whose competitive structure and concomitant loneliness of the individual had been held in check only through membership in a class. The chief characteristic of the mass man is not brutality and backwardness, but his isolation and lack of normal social relationships. Coming from the class-ridden society of the nation-state, whose cracks had been cemented with nationalistic sentiment, it is only natural that these masses, in the first helplessness of their new experience, have tended toward an especially violent nationalism, to which mass leaders have yielded against their own instincts and purposes for purely demagogic reasons.”
Nationalism
Totalitarianism
Nazism
The Masses
1994
1968
Incel
Trumpism
Classless Society
Devil in Spring
“Gabriel was stunned by Pandora's compassion for a man who had caused her such harm. He shook his head in wonder as he stared into her eyes, as dark as cloud-shadow on a field of blue gentian. "That doesn't excuse him," he said thickly.
Gabriel would never forgive the bastard. He wanted vengeance. He wanted to strip the flesh from the bastard's corpse and hang up his skeleton to scare the crows. His fingers contained a subtle tremor as he reached out to trace the fine edges of her face, the sweet, high plane of her cheekbone. "What did the doctor say about your ear? What treatment did he give?"
"It wasn't necessary to send for a doctor."
A fresh flood of rage seared his veins as the words sunk in. "Your eardrum was ruptured. What in God's name do you mean a doctor wasn't necessary?" Although he had managed to keep from shouting, his tone was far from civilized.
Pandora quivered uneasily and began to inch backward.
He realized the last thing she needed from him was a display of temper. Battening down his rampaging emotions, he used one arm to bring her back against his side. "No, don't pull away. Tell me what happened."
"The fever had passed," she said after a long hesitation, "and... well, you have to understand my family. If something unpleasant happened, they ignored it, and it was never spoken of again. Especially if it was something my father had done when he'd lost his temper. After a while, no one remembered what had really happened. Our family history was erased and rewritten a thousand times.
But ignoring the problem with my ear didn't make it disappear. Whenever I couldn't hear something, or when I stumbled or fell, it made my mother very angry. She said I'd been clumsy because I was hasty or careless. She wouldn't admit there was anything wrong with my hearing. She refused even to discuss it." Pandora stopped, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. "I'm making her sound terrible, and she wasn't. There were times when she was affectionate and kind. No one's all one way or the other." She flicked a glance of dread in his direction. "Oh God, you're not going to pity me, are you?"
"No." Gabriel was anguished for her sake, and outraged. It was all he could do to keep his voice calm. "Is that why you keep it a secret? You're afraid of being pitied?"
"That, and... it's a shame I'd rather keep private."
"Not your shame. Your father's."
"It feels like mine. Had I not been eavesdropping, my father wouldn't have disciplined me."
"You were a child," he said brusquely. "What he did wasn't bloody discipline, it was brutality."
To his surprise, a touch of unrepentant amusement curved Pandora's lips, and she looked distinctly pleased with herself. "It didn't even stop my eavesdropping. I just learned to be more clever about it."
She was so endearing, so indomitable, that Gabriel was wrenched with a feeling he'd never known before, as if all the extremes of joy and despair had been compressed into some new emotion that threatened to crack the walls of his heart.”
Rage
Rejections
Parental Abuse
Pandora Ravenel
Gabriel St Vincent
Pandora And Gabriel
Ear Problem
Tinnitus
The Mass Psychology of Fascism
“With the imposition of chastity, women become unchaste under the pressure of their sexual demands; the sexual brutality on the part of the male, and the corresponding conception on the part of the female that for her the sexual act is something disgraceful, takes the place of natural orgastic sensuousness. Extramarital sexual intercourse, to be sure, is not done away with anywhere. With the shifting of the valuation and the abolition of the institutions that previously protected and sanctioned it in a matriarchal society, it becomes involved in a conflict with official morality and is forced to lead a clandestine existence. The change in the social attitude toward sexual intercourse also effects a change in the inner experience of sexuality. The conflict that is now created between the natural and "sublime morality" disturbs the individual's ability to gratify his needs. The feeling of guilt now associated with sexuality cleaves the natural, orgastic course of sexual coalescence and produces a damming up of sexual energy, which later breaks out in various ways. Neuroses, sexual aberrations, and antisocial sexuality become permanent social phenomena. Childhood and adolescent sexuality, which were given a positive value in the original matriarchal work-democracy, fall prey to systematic suppression, which differs only in form. As time goes on, this sexuality, which is distorted, disturbed, brutalized, and prostituted, advocates the very ideology to which it owes its origin. Those who negate sexuality can now justifiably point to it as something brutal and dirty. That this dirty sexuality is not natural sexuality but merely patriarchal sexuality is simply overlooked. And the sexology of latter-day capitalistic patriarchy is no less affected by this evaluation than the vulgar views. This condemns it to complete sterility.”
Rape Culture
Patriarchy
1969
Perversion
Chastity
Extramarital Sex
Sex Negativity
Dirty Sex
Authoritarian Family
Brilliant Imperfection: Grappling with Cure
“Sometimes disabled people overcome specific moments of ableism—
we exceed low expectations, problem-solve lack of access, avoid nursing
homes or long-term psych facilities, narrowly escape police brutality
and prison. However, I’m not sure that overcoming disability itself is an
actual possibility for most of us. Yet in a world that places extraordinary
value in cure, the belief that we can defeat or transcend body-mind
conditions through individual hard work is convenient. Overcoming is
cure’s backup plan.”
Ableism
Disability Studies
“My entire life I watched people allow the world to shape them, to dictate their choices, to mold them into the clay globe that is earth. To be part of, to fit in. I watched their interior and exterior layers be thinned out by society. But me? I'm like an open wound, instead. I'm the thing you can't bandage. I'm that ugly scar that isn't going away. I'm a reminder of pain, of truth, of brutality. Nobody likes brutality. Nobody likes harsh truths. And, you know what? I'm fucking okay with that.”
War Stories
Addiction Memoirs
Heroin Memoirs
Addictarium
Author Nicole Dsettemi
Nicole D
Poet Nicole Dsettemi
Tempests and Slaughter
“He had learned a great deal while he was there, it was true. In particular, he had found that he wasn't certain he could stay in a country where slavery was practiced. He had always thought he would manage to avoid it somehow when he left the university, or that he would become used to it. Now he understood he could not avoid it. The university managed to live slave-free, but it was a lie. The shadow of slavery lay over it. The arena was only the very worst of this way of life. Lesser forms of brutality to men and women were everywhere. When people were bought and sold, it was just too easy for free people to treat them as things. He couldn't face that. Sooner or later he would have to leave his friends and his teachers. He could not stay here.”
Slavery
Slaves
Arram Draper
Numair
Carthak
The Quiet Ones
“Here, then, happiness is obviously a form of strength, a subversion even, a modus of survival, even if at times it appears superficial and misplaced.
Besides, for all of boxing's brutality, there is lyricism in its rhythm, too, something that dreamy, romantic Filipinos perhaps recognize. It is almost too facile to ascribe too much significance in this metaphor, but this incongruous combination of lyrical violence is default in Manila, where beauty is scarce, and which flourishes side by side with the hideous. There is pride in that stubborn independence, I think, whether it is on the canvas of a boxing ring or history. How did that killer song end again?
The record shows
I took the blows
and did it my way.”
Violence
Boxing
Manila
White Witch in a Black Robe: A True Story about Criminal Mind Control
“I wanted my mother to love me. Despite all the torture and brutality.”
Child Abuse
Abusive Parent
Emotional Needs
Child Maltreatment
Child Abuse Survivor
Trauma Bonding
Abusive Mother
Grit: The Banter and Brutality of the Late-Night Cab
“Many parts of Watford, especially around Vicarage Road Football Stadium, consist of scuzy warrens of Victorian terraced houses”
Victorian Houses
Watford F C
Vicarage Road
Watford
共372条
1
2
3
4
5
下一页
最后一页
热搜推荐
That
tion
Tion
thin
with
With
ever
here
have
ting
There
will
To Be
ally
People
Real
It Is
less
Live
Then
Pers
Could
Where
Call
Light
Body
Everything
Nigh
Kind
Ship