Rub Quotes - page 7
The Liberation Ladies will lead to generations of women willing to support a tired husband, and provide for his old age. He can be snug-abed in the morning while she pounds off in her thick boots to her job or carries a briefcase to her office. And when she comes home at night - she can cook his dinner, too, and wash and iron his shirts. She can do the housework, while he watches TV and complains of the pain in his back - which she will eventually rub away at bedtime. Women wanted careers, didn't they? They can do a man's work, can't they? Well, let 'em do it, and be glad they were able to get a husband besides, even if they have to take care of him! Men, in short, are licking their lips and, for the first time in history, are readying themselves to be the exploiters in their turn.... Mom's out there, plugging and 'fulfilling' herself, and why should Pop worry? He's had it coming to him since Eve....
Taylor Caldwell
All animals copulate but only humans osculate. Parakeets rub beaks? Sure they do, but only little old ladies who murder schoolchildren with knitting needles to steal their lunch money so that they can buy fresh kidneys to feed overweight kitty cats would place bird billing in the realm of the true kiss.
Tom Robbins
I once had on a Lance Armstrong bracelet and a What Would Jesus Do bracelet and I rubbed a blind kid's eyes and he could see. But he wasn't used to the light, it was bright, walked into traffic, was killed instantly. Okay, those of you that are laughing, I'm going to call you half-full, because you're remembering the most important part: The bracelets are working!
Daniel Tosh
In my teaching, I try to expose my students to the widest range of aesthetic possibilities, so I'll offer them stories from Anton Chekhov to Denis Johnson, from Flannery O'Connor to A.M. Homes, and perhaps investigating all that strange variation of beauty has rubbed off on me. Or perhaps that's why I enjoy teaching literature.
Chang-rae Lee
And I want you to know something man, we all feel really bad that when you were in Troop 182 the Scout master rubbed your butt at the overnight jamboree. But what are you like 30 now? You've got life on backwards, come here let me flip it, there see, now your past is behind you. What's say you climb down off the cross use the wood to build a bridge and get over it.
Christopher Titus
Facts are verified information that is then presented as objective reality. The rub here is the verified part. How do you verify verified? Facts are slippery, and so is verification. Today's verification may not be tomorrow's. It turns out that facts may not really be facts; they can change as the verification changes; they may only tell part of the story, not the whole story; or they may be so qualified by verifiers that they're empty of information.
Colin Powell
The Abbey was on Robertson, just below Santa Monica, on the edge of Boys' Town. Low brick buildings housed cafes, clothing stores, coffee houses and watch repair shops that rubbed elbows with gay clubs and sex shops. These establishments catered to hordes of the beautiful young gay men who lived in the big apartment complexes that lined the side streets or who drove in from all over Southern California on weekend nights. I seldom ventured there, because it reminded me of San Francisco in the '70s, when I was a boy just coming out and how out of place I'd felt among the big-muscled boys who cruised each other with cold assessment. Twenty years later, only the faces and the clothes had changed; the air was still charged with the brutal calculation of lust. And beneath that was the claustrophobia of a ghetto, of fearful people looking out at the world from behind invisible fences.
Michael Nava
I made up a lot of instant barbarian folklore-I told 'em a Vor prides himself on self-control, that it's not considered polite on Barrayar for a man to, you know, before his lady has. Three times. It was considered insulting to her. I stroked, I rubbed, I scratched, I recited poetry, I nuzzled and nibbled and-cripes, my fingers are cramped.” His speech was a bit slurred, too, Miles noticed. "I thought they'd never fall asleep.” Ivan paused; a slow smirk displaced the snarl on his face. "But they were smiling, when they finally did.
Lois McMaster Bujold
Majon rubbed his tired eyes. 'You mock politics,' he said softly. 'You sneer at diplomacy. But how do you think we hold the world at peace? I'll tell you, Sieben. Men like me travel to places like this, and we're fed those horse-turd cakes of yours. And we smile, and we say how nourishing they are ... We do this not for gain, but for peace and prosperity. ... Druss is a hero; he can enjoy the luxury of living his own life and speaking his own truths. Diplomats cannot. Now will you help me to convince him?'
Sieben rose. 'No, ambassador, I will not. You are wrong in this - though I give you the benefit of the doubt as to your motives.' He walked to the door and turned. 'Perhaps you've been eating those cakes too long. Perhaps you have acquired a taste for them.'
David Gemmell
Wages, profits, prices are determined, always have been determined, and always will be determined until we go Communist, by the market-by supply and demand working through the market. While we tie ourselves into knots trying to invent non-market criteria for our commissions to use, the market is there, noiselessly, efficiently, irresistibly doing the job for us all the time. Irresistibly-yes, and there's the rub. For there is one thing outside the market in a modern economy, and that is money itself. Governments can and do satisfy the demand for money, raise and lower the supply of money. In short, governments have the power to control money, which is so largely their own creation. If governments allow monetary demand to increase faster than productivity, the market will not stop the process, because it cannot stop it. The market will simply go on determining wages, profits and prices in ever higher monetary terms-until something busts.
Enoch Powell
More than a dozen were shot down on the first day of the invasion by scared, trigger-happy soldiers, kids, most of them, who pursued the Tommyknockers from house to house. After a while, some of the invaders' fear began to rub off. By afternoon they were actually having fun-they were like men driving rabbits through wheat. Two dozen more were killed before the Army doctors and Pentagon brain-trusters realized that the air outside of Haven was lethal to these freak-show mutations who had once been American tax payers. The fact that the invaders could not breathe the air inside Haven would have seemed to have made the converse self-evident, but in all the excitement, no one was really thinking very well (Gard wouldn't have found this very surprising).
Stephen King
The South would be in no more danger in this respect than it was in the days of Washington. I suppose, however, this does not meet the case. You think slavery is right and should be extended; while we think slavery is wrong and ought to be restricted. That I suppose is the rub. It certainly is the only substantial difference between us.
Abraham Lincoln
