They don't have special rights because we have civil rights laws that protect them. The laws work both ways.
It is difficult to overstate the importance of the Civil Rights Act.
I just wasn't raised a granola eating, peace love hippie type person. I'm from Michigan and was raised in and around Detroit where it is kind of you get respect and you give respect. That is how I feel.
I wasn't a hippie and I wasn't even a bohemian. I was extremely earnest and serious.
Hippies, hippies... they want to save the world but all they do is smoke pot and play frisbee!
I got out of that immediately was that now, all of a sudden, rock music had become a spectator sport, that corporate labels and their bands were the new establishment, and punk was there to fight them the way the activist hippies must have fought what the establishment must have been ten years before. And it was interesting to see the reactions in different parts of the country.
My personal style is a mixture of, like, girly, throwback, like retro '50s pin-ups, floral, like hippies, like anything feminine, and like flirty.
I'd rather be more of the hippie country chick - as in, instead of pointing a finger, just maybe saying, 'We're all screw-ups. We're all in this kind of together. We're all just figuring this out.'
Children, for whom suburban life was supposed to make wholesome little Johns and Wendys, became the acid-dropping, classroom-burning hippies of the 1960s.
To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom.
Man has no right to kill his brother. It is no excuse that he does so in uniform: he only adds the infamy of servitude to the crime of murder.
The hippie movement politicized my generation. When it ended, we all started looking back at our own history, looking, in my case, for motives of rebellion.
Bonobo studies started in the '70s and came to fruition in the '80s. Then in the '90s, all of a sudden, boom, they ended because of the warfare in the Congo. It was really bad for the bonobo and ironic that people with their warfare were preventing us from studying the hippies of the primate world.
The people who really know me understand that I have a tough exterior, but I'm actually just a hippie at heart.
Zaphod Beeblebrox, adventurer, ex-hippie, good-timer (crook? quite possibly), manic self-publicist, terrible bad at personal relationships, often thought to be completely out to lunch.
We are stardust, we are golden and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.
Fortunately, we did most of our athletic stuff inside, so we didn't have to jog through Tribeca looking like a bunch of boot-camp hippie children.
She would always feel this wild girl was the truest of any of the people she had already been: adored daughter, bourgeois priss, rebel, runaway, dope-fiend San Francisco hippie; or all the people she would later be: mother, nurse, religious fanatic, prematurely old woman. Vivienne was a human onion, and when I came home at twenty eight years old on the day the monster died, I was afraid that the Baptist freak she had peeled down to was her true, acrid, tear-inducing core.
You know, feeling and action are always linked, one can't exist without the other. It's sort of a hippie thing.
Nothing like being scolded by a hippie.
I'm tired of all these hippie jack-offs
[Lennie meets Joe - he works out that she was named after John Lennon] I nod. "Mom was a hippie." This is northern Northern California after all - the final frontier of freakerdom. Just in the eleventh grade we have a girl named Electricity, a guy named Magic Bus, and countless flowers: Tulip, Begonia, and Poppy - all parent-given-on-the-birth-certificate names. Tulip is a two-ton bruiser of a guy who would be the star of out football team if we were the kind of school that has optional morning meditation in the gym
Zeus looked like a really buff, really angry hippie.
If the mountains fell in the sea, Let it be, it ain't me. Got my own world to live through And I ain't gonna copy you. Now, if 6 turned up to be 9, I don't mind, I don't mind. If all the hippies cut off their hair, I don't care, I don't care. Did, 'cos I got my own world to live through And I ain't gonna copy you.
It has to be acknowledged that in capitalist society, with its herds of hippies, originality has become a sort of fringe benefit, a mere convention, accepted obsolescence, the Beatnik model being turned in for the Hippie model, as though strangely obedient to capitalist laws of marketing.
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