academy

Scholarship that is indifferent to human suffering is immoral.

Look, Aerin, preparation is only half the challenge of winning a debate.___nd the other half?__e had her now. __ou have to choose the right side.___our side, you mean._ She bristled.__o, the losing side.___hat?___lways choose the weaker side.___hy would I do that?_ Doubt edged her voice, but now she was sitting erect, her feet flat on the floor.__ecause then you have further to go to prove your case._ He eased the feet of his chair down. __n a debate, there are two sides. If both make a good argument, then the less popular side wins because that side had further to go to prove its point. Simple logistics.___f you don__ care which side wins._ She frowned.__t__ a debate. It doesn__ matter which side wins.___ou mean it doesn__ matter to you._ The tone in her voice unsettled him. Or maybe it was the fact that that her criticism disturbed him at all.__t__ a class,_ he said. __he point is to flesh out the different sides of an argument.___nd you don__ care if the truth gets lost in the shuffle. Don__ you believe in anything?!

Labelling is no longer a liberating political act but a necessity in order to gain entrance into the academic industrial complex and other discussions and spaces. For example, if so called __adical_ or __rogressive_ people don__ hear enough __uzz_ words (like feminist, anti-oppression, anti-racist, social justice, etc.) in your introduction, then you are deemed unworthy and not knowledgeable enough to speak with authority on issues that you have lived experience with. The criteria for identifying as a feminist by academic institutions, peer reviewed journals, national bodies, conferences, and other knowledge gatekeepers is very exclusive. It is based on academic theory instead of based on lived experiences or values. Name-dropping is so elitist! You're not a "real" feminist unless you can quote, or have read the following white women: (insert Women's Studies 101 readings).

New dreams are like new wines; they grow sweeter over time. With patience, you will be able to climb your spiritual, financial, academic, marital and social ladders in Jesus' name!

Nonsense has taken up residence in the heart of public debate and also in the academy. This nonsense is part of the huge fund of unreason on which the plans and schemes of optimists draw for their vitality. Nonsense confiscates meaning. It thereby puts truth and falsehood, reason and unreason, light and darkness on an equal footing. It is a blow cast in defence of intellectual freedom, as the optimists construe it, namely the freedom to believe anything at all, provided you feel better for it.

I want to thank the Academy for its courage and generosity.

They were frisky, eager and exuberant, and they had all been friends in the States. They were plainly unthinkable. They were noisy, overconfident, empty-headed kids of twenty-one. They had gone to college and were engaged to pretty, clean girls whose pictures were already standing on the rough cement mantelpiece of Orr's fireplace. They had ridden in speedboats and played tennis. They had been horseback riding. One had once been to bed with an older woman. They knew the same poeple in different parts of the country and had gone to school with each other's cousins.

If it took me showing some warmth to get warmth in return, I'd do it.

But I didn't know about the other story.""What other story?_"About how you and Adrian Ivashkov are_""No, whatever you heard it__ not true.""But it was really romantic""Then it__ definitely not true.

Тhere isnʹt much I wouldnʹt do for you. Тhe stupider, the better.

But once in a while . . . I don't know. I feel so close, Rose. So close to the edge. Like if I allow myself one small misstep, I'll plunge away and never come back. It's like I'll lose myself.

It__ okay. Everything__ going to be okay. You can let go of the sword.""I can__. I can__ leave him alone. I have to protect him.""You have.

The only thing better than imagining Dimitri carrying me in his arms was imagining him shirtless while carrying me in his arms.

what's your name?"what?" i asked, squinting at the light.your name." I reconized Dr. Olendzki peering over me.you know my name."I want you to tell me."Rose. Rose Hathaway."Do you know your birthday?"Of course I do. Why are you asking me such stupid things? Did you lose my records?"Dr. Olendzki gave an exasperated sigh and walked off, taking the annoying light with her. "I think she's fine,

Call me crazy for asking this, but, um, are Lissa and I going with you?""No""No?""No.

Sweat isn't a bad thing," he said, leaning his head against the wall thoughtfully. "Some of the best things in life happen while your sweating. Yeah, if you get too much of it and it gets old and stale, it turns pretty gross. But on a beautiful women? Intoxicating. If you could smell things like a vampire does, you'd know what I'm talking about. Most people mess it all up and drown themselves in perfume. Perfume can be good...especially if you get one that goes with your chemistry. But you only need a hint. Mix about 20 percent of that with 80 percent of your own perspiration...mmm." He tilted his head to the side and looked at me. "Dead sexy.

Well he didn't treat my mother very well. He did some horrible things.""Like..." I hesitated. "Blood-whore things?""Like beating-her-up kinds of things" he replied flatly."Oh God," I said "That's horrible. And she...she just let it happen?""She did." The corner of his mouth turned into a sly, sad smile. "But I didn't""Tell me, tell me you beat the crap out of him"His smile grew, "I did.

There's nothing worse than waiting and not knowing what'll happen to you. Your own imagination can be crueler than any captor.