Quotes About Community

hi I hope u want to be my friends

If you aren't any religion, how will you know if you should join the Y or the Jewish Community Center?

Oh who owns the school? Oh who owns the school? Oh who owns the school? the people saaaayyyy. . . . Oh we own the school Oh we own the school 'Cause we are sixth graaaaders today!

It was after 9:00 P.M. by the time we got home. Tootsie was asleep in Dad's arms. Henry met us at the door to our building. "Mrs. H . . ." he said.

Help the Retarded. Two

You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July Fourth, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism."–ERMA BOMBECK

The power of the people is much stronger than the people in power.

Not all Muslims become involved in acts of violence. Yet all might be held culpable. THis is because that section of Muslim--in fact, the majority--who are not personally involved, neither disown those members of their community who are engaged in violence, nor even condemn them. In such a case, according to the Islamic Shariah itself, if the involved Muslims are directly responsible, the uninvolved Muslims are also indirectly responsible. (p. 91)

West harkens back to the halcyon days when there was "a vital community bound by its ethical ideals."56 Unfortunately, oppression does not always produce such felicitous outcomes, and the victims of oppression are not always ennobled by their experience and an inspiration to the rest of us.

Since language is community, if the cognitive ecology of a language is altered, so is the community.

We lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Northwest D.C. I was essentially raised by a Panamanian man and a Jamaican woman. That's why I have such a fascination with Jamaican food.

I have never seen sheep kill sheep, but wolves? We have civil unrest in Pakistan, Iran, Afghanistan, Lebanon, Sudan, Somalia, Algeria, the Philippines, Indonesia, Egypt, Occupied Judea…everywhere. Where the creed of the wolf thrives, everyone dies. The sheep are not the only ones dying—the wolves eat the sheep, but they are also killing each other without mercy.

When a majority will desire a world without such discord, they will create such a world.

down their road, each way, wid a flag," directed O'Brien to Casey, "and thin tear up their track. Cut off the rails six inches inside the highway line. Don't ye get off the road on to the company's ground, av ye value yer life. Get the thrack out av the way, an' thin start the plows an' scrapers. Dump the dirt in a long pile in the middle av the sthreet; don't cover up anny av the Dubskys or Polowskys, but kape the dirt movin'.

I wonder if ever again Americans can have that experience of returning to a home place so intimately known, profoundly felt, deeply loved, and absolutely submitted to? It is not quite true that you can't go home again. I have done it, coming back here. But it gets less likely. We have had too many divorces, we have consumed too much transportation, we have lived too shallowly in too many places.

Towns are like people. Old ones often have character, the new ones are interchangeable.

It is love and friendship, the sanctity and celebration of our relationships, that not only support a good life, but create one. Through friendships, we spark and inspire one another's ambitions.

After all, what are any of us after but the conviction of belonging?

National parks are the best idea we ever had. Absolutely American, absolutely democratic, they reflect us at our best rather than our worst.

It is almost impossible to write fiction about the Mormons, for the reason that Mormon institutions and Mormon society are so peculiar that they call for constant explanation.

There is a sense in which we are all each other's consequences.

Where do I belong in this country? Where is home?

When you marry into a Mormon family you marry tribes and nations.

A muddy little stream, a village grown unfamiliar with time and trees. I turn around and retrace my way up Main Street and park and have a Coke in the confectionery store. It is run by a Greek, as it used to be, but whether the same Greek or another I would not know. He does not recognize me, nor I him. Only the smell of his place is familiar, syrupy with old delights, as if the ghost of my first banana split had come close to breathe on me.