Gretchen: Irregardless, ex-boyfriends are just off limits to friends. I mean that's just like the rules of feminism.
Marcus Andronicus: Oh brother, speak with possibility and do not break into these deep extremes. Titus: Are not my sorrows deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. Marcus Andronicus: But yet let reason govern thy lament. Titus: If there were reason for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes!
Dr. David Banner: And what have I done to my son, Miss Ross? Nothing. I tried to improve on the limits in myself. Myself, not him. Can you understand? To improve on nature, MY nature, knowledge of one's self. It's the only path to the truth that gives men the power to go beyond God's boundaries.
Wiley: I am exploring the outer limits of masturbation. I think I've solved the chafing problem.
Connor MacLeod: In the days before memory, there were the Immortals. We were with you then, and we are with you now. We are driven by the endless fight to survive in a Game which knows no limits of time or place. We are the seeds of legend, but our true origin are unknown. We simply are.
Boundaries aren't all bad. That's why there are walls around mental institutions.
We had entered an era of limitlessness, or the illusion thereof, and this in itself is a sort of wonder. My grandfather lived a life of limits, both suffered and strictly observed, in a world of limits. I learned much of that world from him and others, and then I changed; I entered the world of labor-saving machines and of limitless cheap fossil fuel. It would take me years of reading, thought, and experience to learn again that in this world limits are not only inescapable but indispensable.
Must clocks be circles? Time is not a circle. Suppose the Mother of All Minutes started right here, on the sidewalk in front of the Morning Lenape Building, and the parade of minutes that followed-each of them, say, one inch long- headed out that way, down Bridge Street. Where would NOW be? THIS minute? Out past the moon? Jupiter? The nearest star? Who came up with minutes, anyway? Who needs them? Name one good thing a minute's ever done. They shorten fun and measure misery. Get rid of them, I say. Down with minutes! And while you're at it-take hours with you too. Don't get me started on them. Clocks-that's the problem. Every clock is a nest of minutes and hours. Clocks strap us into their shape. Instead of heading for the nearest star, all we do is corkscrew. Clocks lock us into minutes, make Ferris wheel riders of us all, lug us round and round from numbber to number, dice the time of our lives into tiny bits until the bits are all we know and the only question we care to ask is
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