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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 94feea0 | Thank you," he said. "Welcome. Welcome especially to Mr. Coyle Mathis and the other men and women of Forster Hollow who are going to be employed at this rather strikingly energy-inefficient plant. It's a long way from Forster Hollow, isn't it?" "So, yes, welcome," he said. "Welcome to the middle class! That's what I want to say. Although, quickly, before I go any further, I also want to say to Mr. Mathis here in the front row: I know you do.. | Jonathan Franzen | ||
| 1aaa06e | I have plenty of machinery around me; what I really need is a more enchanting world in which to live and work. | Thomas Moore | ||
| 7716bf1 | Dead people belong to the live people who claim them most obsessively. | James Ellroy | ||
| c98c54d | He saw mankind going through life in a childlike manner... which he loved but also despised.... He saw them toiling, saw them suffering, and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to be entirely unworthy of this price, for money, for little pleasures, for being slightly honoured.... | Hermann Hesse | ||
| d0cdb32 | I want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of Siddhartha. | Hermann Hesse | ||
| ffaabd6 | I will not make a gift of myself, I must be won | Hermann Hesse | ||
| 5d6e9a2 | If you can see a thing whole, it seems that it's always beautiful. Planet,lives...But close up, a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. You need distance, interval. The way to see how beautiful the earth is, is to see it as the moon. The way to see how beautiful life is, is from the vantage point of death. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| db0f03b | Compare the torrent and the glacier. Both get where they are going. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| 21de35c | For if it's all the rest of us who are killed by the suicide, it's himself whom the murderer kills; only he has to do is over, and over, and over. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| 8d9338d | Without war there are no heroes." "What harm would that be?" "Oh, Lavinia, what a woman's question that is." | war women | Ursula K. Le Guin | |
| fcb8c70 | The machine conceals the machinations. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| d201f09 | Progress means nothing to presence. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| 65fa134 | The airport bookstore did not sell books, only bestsellers, which Sita Dulip cannot read without risking a severe systemic reaction. | humor | Ursula K. Le Guin | |
| dbde686 | All they're trying to do is tell you what they're like, and what you're like--what's going on--what the weather is now, today, this moment, the rain, the sunlight, look! Open your eyes; listen, listen. That is what the novelists say. But they don't tell you what you will see and hear. All they can tell you is what they have seen and heard, in their time in this world, a third of it spent in sleep and dreaming, another third of it spent in t.. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| cd2d12f | This story is not all mine, nor told by me alone. Indeed, I am not sure whose story it is; you can judge better. But it is all one, and if at moments the facts seem to alter with an altered voice, why then you can choose the fact you like best; yet none of them is false, and it is all one story. | Ursula K. Le Guin | ||
| 726d5d4 | Rhysand's face became a mask of calm fury as he stared and stared at me. "I remember you," he purred. "It seems like you ignored my warning to stay out of trouble." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 71c318c | My goal was bigger than revenge. My purpose greater than personal retribution. Dawn | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 8ca8be5 | Lysandra rubbed at her face, then squared her shoulders. "The marsh beasts are easily enraged. Like someone I know." Aelin jabbed the shifter with an elbow, and Lysandra snorted." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 7314305 | I love you," he repeated, shaking her again. "I have for years. But if I asked you to pick, you'd choose Arobynn, and I. Can't. Take. It." "You're a damned idiot," she breathed grabbing the front of his tunic. "You're a moron and an ass and a damned idiot. He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face. "Because I'd pick you." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 976b0b6 | Archer let out a breath, and she turned to find him grinning, slowly shaking his head. "I think 'stunning,' 'beautiful,' and 'dazzling' are the words you're looking for." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 532ec91 | I love you.Thorns and All. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 1044122 | Every inch her feet dragged through the sand was a lifetime; every inch was a heartbeat. Blood soaked her pants. She likely wouldn't be able to heal her wounds within all that iron. Not until Maeve decided to heal them herself. But Maeve wouldn't let her die. Not with the Wyrdkeys in the balance. Not yet. Time--she was grateful Elena had given her that stolen time. Grateful she had met them all, that she had seen some small part of the worl.. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 44855c2 | But that was a lifetime ago. A different person ago. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 53e8634 | I'm not entirely sure Velaris is prepared for Nesta Archeron. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| d607048 | It wasn't that she was mad at him for being uninjured. She was so relieved she could have vomited, actually. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| c006eb6 | But anyone with witch-blood in their veins was worth keeping an eye on. Or Thirteen. | manon-blackbeak pg107 witches | Sarah J. Maas | |
| c9bf327 | Only a coward captures men the way you did." "A coward? Or a pragmatist?" | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| f0ac177 | She was tired in her bones, but she rallied her energy one last time and told him of they years in Rifthold, of stealing Asterion horses and racing across the desert, of dancing until dawn with the courtesans and thieves and all the beautiful, wicked creatures in the world. And then she told him about losing Sam, and of that first whipping in Endovier, when she'd spat blood in the Chief Overseer's face, and what she had seen and endured in .. | pg368 rowan-whitethorn | Sarah J. Maas | |
| c7d2b0e | He had been hunting for her since the moment she was taken from him. His mate. He barely remembered his own name. And only recalled it because his three companions spoke it while they searched for her across violent and dark seas, through ancient and slumbering forests, over storm-swept mountains already buried in snow. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| a9b2cab | The curse was broken. Manon just stared at them, her breathing turning jagged. Then she roused Abraxos, and was in the saddle within heartbeats. She did not offer them any explanation, any farewell, as they leaped into the thinning night. As she guided her wyvern to the bit of blasted earth on the battlefield. Right to its heart. And smiling through her tears, laughing in joy and sorrow, Manon laid that precious flower from the Wastes upon .. | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| add03ab | I'm going to kill you." "Ah, about that," she said, and shifted her wrist just enough for him to feel the blade she'd flicked free in the moment before she'd sensed his attack--the steel now resting against his groin. "Immortality seems like a long, long time to go without your favorite body part." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| f6b6713 | It's a miracle the king managed to resist executing you until yesterday." "Tell me he's in a rage the likes of which have never been seen before." "If you listen hard enough, you can actually hear him shrieking from the palace." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| fd21ef0 | Duly noted." Rhys yanked open the drawers and pulled out my undergarments. He dangled the bits of midnight lace and chuckled. "I'm surprised you didn't demand Nuala and Cerridwen buy you something else." I stalked to him, snatching the lace away. "You're drooling on the carpet." I slammed the bathing room door before he could respond." | Sarah J. Maas | ||
| 4bc04a9 | The witches, who lowered their eyes for no man . . . Until she could get away, perhaps she might learn a thing or two about what it was like to have fangs and claws. And how to use them. "Blue," she whispered. "My blood runs blue." "Good choice, witchling," Manon said, and the word was a challenge and an order. She turned away, but glanced over her shoulder. "Welcome to the Blackbeaks." . Elide stared after her. She had likely just made the.. | elide-lochan manon-blackbeak pg212 | Sarah J. Maas | |
| f015d1d | It doesn`t matter who you are,or how good you got things. Sooner or later,shit goes wrong for everybody. Sooner or later,there comes a time when all you want to do is shout Fuck you to the world. | Garth Ennis | ||
| 8d44749 | It was not possible to reason with unreasonable people | Vince Flynn | ||
| 6272861 | a book is a fragile creature, it suffers the wear of time, it fears rodents, the elements, clumsy hands. If for a hundred and a hundred years everyone had been able freely to handle our codices, the majority of them would no longer exist. So the librarian protects them not only against mankind but also against nature, and devotes his life to this war with the forces of oblivion, the enemy of truth. | librarians | Umberto Eco | |
| 707c021 | I returned to the courtyard and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light brume. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog was also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists t.. | mist morning seeing | Umberto Eco | |
| dbabc68 | A democratic civilization will save itself only if it makes the language of the image into a stimulus for critical reflection -- not an invitation for hypnosis. | images mass-media reflection symbols television | Umberto Eco | |
| 86472dd | There is only one thing that you write for yourself, and that is a shopping list. | craft readers reasons why writers writing | Umberto Eco | |
| e97682c | If anything, he seemed a little lonely, all too ready to open his heart at the slightest sign of interst. | Tom Perrotta | ||
| f47e9a4 | Somewhere, within her, in a deep recess, crouched discontent. She began to lose confidence in the fullness of her life, the glow began to fade from her conception of it. As the days multiplied, her need of something, something vaguely familiar, but which she could not put a name to and hold for definite examination, became almost intolerable. She went through moments of overwhelming anguish. She felt shut in, trapped. | Nella Larsen | ||
| 1984a83 | I am a stickler for good manners, and I believe that treating other people well is a lost art. In the workplace, at the dinner table, and walking down the street--we are confronted with choices on how to treat people nearly every waking moment. Over time these choices define who we are and whether we have a lot of friends and allies or none. | Tim Gunn | ||
| 9d56136 | Mother was delicate the way badgers were delicate. | Alyxandra Harvey |