Be The Peace You Wish To See In The World!
I'm not going to / let a little thing like the world stand in my way. / Why should I? I understand it / as much as I understand penguins / and I still go to the zoo.
Why should I talk to you? I don't know where you're from.
Should I marry W.? Not if she won't tell me the other letters in her name.
Why should I hasten to solve every riddle which life offers me? I am well assured that the Questioner, who brings me so many problems, will bring me the answers also, in due time.
O, from the ancient days always there have been travelers. So why should I grieve?
But why should I read what somebody else thinks of my life when I know the real story?
What I do is sometimes - at least in Germany - met with wounding campaigns. I always face the question: should I grow myself a thick skin and ignore it, or should I let myself be wounded? I've decided to be wounded, since, if I grew a thick skin, there are other things I wouldn't feel any more.
After all the work I've done, why should I suddenly be treated as a bona fide actress?
Why should I limit myself to only one woman when I can have as many women as I want?
Why do I write books? Why do I think? Why should I be passionate? Because things could be different, they could be made better.
Should I pursue a path so twisted? Should I crawl defeated and gifted?
Should I peel a cap or should I let him survive?
Once I was adviced never to trust a pretty face. Well, and what should I do when a meet a shithead?
Why should I worry, why should I care? And even when I cross that line, I got street savoire faire.
Why should I ever get fed up talking about my father? He was a brilliant, colorful man who left us with thousands of memories. Most people remember his films, but I've got anecdotes and advice and episodes of real life tucked away inside my head.
Do I have to change my name, will it get me far? Should I lose some weight, am I gonna be a star?
Why on earth should I care whether people read me with their eyes or their ears?
I wouldn't build a building if it wasn't of interest to me as a potential work of art. Why should I?
I've been embarrassing myself publicly for over 20 years. Why should I stop now?
Why should I go into details, we have nothing that is not perishable except what our hearts and our intellects endows us with.
What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest Friend, For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end? O make me Thine forever, And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never Outlive my love for Thee.
I don't hate work, composing is not work for me, it's my pleasure; it's my life. So why should I stop? If something is pleasurable and exciting and rewarding, why should one stop?
Go, poor devil, get thee gone! Why should I hurt thee? This world surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me.
Bella: "Should I be afraid?" Edward: "Terrified."
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