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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| ad095a0 | I'm gonna miss you," Brianna says. "I'm gonna miss you too, baby," Angelo murmurs. For Pete's sake. It's not like she's leaving on a trip around the world. She's only headed to homeroom." | Jodi Picoult | ||
| f1619a5 | Just when you think you've got your life by the reins, that's when it's most likely to run away with you. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 8d56efe | There are some things, I think, you're btter off not remembering. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 4c70f14 | Don't pay back in kind, pay back in kindness. If someone does wrong by you, do right by them. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 84e0e36 | I wonder if there's a difference between being a dutiful mother and being a good mother.' There is,' I said, and Charlotte looked up at me, expectant. Even if I couldn't articulate the difference as an adult, as a child I had felt it. I thought for a moment. 'A dutiful mother is someone who follows every step her child makes,' I said. And a good mother?' I lifted my gaze to Charlotte's. 'Is someone whose child wants to follow . | good-mother | Jodi Picoult | |
| 9772775 | What if, ladies and gentlemen, today I told you that anyone here who was born on a Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday was free to leave right now? Also, they'd be given the most central parking spots in the city, and the biggest houses. They would get job interviews before others who were born later in the week, and they'd be taken first at the doctor's office, no matter how many patients were waiting in line. If you were born from Thursday to S.. | white-privilege | Jodi Picoult | |
| df1d449 | Everyone has a story; everyone hides his past as a means of self-preservation. Some just do it better, and more thoroughly, than others. | story | Jodi Picoult | |
| a71b53e | Time is an optical illusion-- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 9142108 | It still hurts," she whispered. "Even when you're doing it for someone else, that doesn't stop your ribs from getting cracked, or your wrist swelling, or your cuts from bleeding." | sacrifice | Jodi Picoult | |
| 075c642 | Coal, with time and heat and pressure, will always become a diamond. But if you were freezing to death, which would you consider the gem? | Jodi Picoult | ||
| b35e219 | Maybe that's what we do to the people we love: take shots in the dark and realize too late that we've wounded the people we are trying to protect. | love people protect sad-truth shots wound | Jodi Picoult | |
| b5361b6 | Witness testimony is always flawed. It's better than circumstantial evidence, sure, but people aren't camcorders; they don't record every action and reaction, and the very act of remembering involves chosing words, actions and images. In other words, any witness who was supposed to be giving a court facts is really just giving them a version of fiction. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| ca6eae1 | The first time she kissed me, I truly thought I'd had an aneurysm - my pulse was thundering so loud and my senses were exploding. This, I remember thinking, the only word I could hold on to in a sea of feelings. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 8f67582 | Sometimes Chris wished he could sneak a peek at the back of the book, so to speak, and see how it was all going to turn out, so that he wouldn't have to bother going through the motions. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| a5dc531 | Crazy girls did this, girls who walked like zombies through YA novels. But. Trixie felt the sting of the skin as it split, the sweet welling rise of blood. It hurt, though not as much as everything else idd. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 29290e4 | What one person takes away from a book might be very different from what the next person takes away -- almost as if the story is altered depending on who's reading, where, and when. But then, maybe all books are like that -- a little different each time they are opened. The real question is who's doing the changing: the story, or the reader. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 0926b63 | I imagined what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands something bejeweled and treasured and to know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees. | Jodi Picoult | ||
| 748c36e | Ruby said there were many songs that you could not say anybody in particular had made by himself. A song went around from fiddler to fiddler and each one added something and took something away so that in time the song became a different thing from what it had been, barely recognizable in either tune or lyric. But you could not say the song had been improved, for as was true of all human effort, there was never advancement. Everything added.. | music songs | Charles Frazier | |
| f1f7039 | So you've not only somehow married Fraser's wife, but you've accidentally been raising his illegitimate son for the last fifteen years? | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 0c7ebc2 | A man who had never spoken love to me, who had never needed to, for I knew he loved me, as surely as I knew I lived. For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary. It is all. It is undying. And it is enough. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| cff3db2 | All the names I've called you through the years--my chick, my pumpkin, precious dove, darling, sweetheart, dinky, smudge ... I know why the Jews and Muslims have nine hundred names for God; one small word is not enough for love. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 99d8107 | If ye were no longer there--or somewhere--" he said very softly, "then the sun would no longer come up or go down." He lifted my hand and kissed it, very gently. He laid it, closed around my ring, upon my chest, rose, and left." | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| df675c5 | Involuntarily, I reached out, as though I might heal him with a touch and erase the marks with my fingers. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 5a278ac | Careful!" I said. "Don't twist like that, or your dressing will come off! What are you trying to do?" "Get my plaid loose to cover you," he replied. "You're shivering. But I canna do it one-handed. Can ye reach the clasp of my brooch for me?" With a good deal of tugging and awkward shifting, we got the plaid loosened. With a surprisingly dexterous swirl, he twirled the cloth out and let it settle, shawllike, around his shoulders. He then pu.. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 1085e68 | Everyone can lie, young Roger, given cause enough. Even me. It's only that it's harder for those of us who live in glass faces; we have to think up our lies ahead of time. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| e72bbfd | Come to bed, a nighean. Nothing hurts when ye love me." He was right; nothing did." | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 0ad76c8 | No. Ye loved him. I canna hold it against either of you that ye mourn him. And it gives me some comfort to know ..." He hesitated, and I reached up to smooth the rumpled hair off his face. "To know what?" "That should the need come, you might mourn for me that way," he said softly." | romance sad | Diana Gabaldon | |
| fd91db2 | It's just incredible. It just does not explain. Or perhaps that's it: they don't explain and we are not supposed to know. We have a few old mouth-to-mouth tales, we exhume from old trunks and boxes and drawers letters without salutation or signature, in which men and women who once lived and breathed are now merely initials or nicknames out of some now incomprehensible affection which sound to us like Sanskrit or Chocktaw; we see dimly peop.. | William Faulkner | ||
| 251d512 | Ninety-nine percent talent...ninety-nine percent discipline...ninety-nine percent work. He must never be satisfied with what he does. It is never as good as it can be done. Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself. An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to won.. | William Faulkner | ||
| 138f33c | You are that to me, an oasis. You drug me and at the same time you give me strength. | book-quotes books | Anaïs Nin | |
| 8c35e9f | By his very profession, a serious fiction writer is a vendor of the sensuous particulars of life, a perceiver and handler of things. His most valuable tools are his sense and his memory; what happens in his mind is primarily pictures. | images imagination senses writing | Wallace Stegner | |
| 0a89445 | We made plenty of mistakes, but we never tripped anybody to gain an advantage, or took illegal shortcuts when no judge was around. We have all jogged and panted it out the whole way. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| 02e3de5 | Hope was always out ahead of fact, possibility obscured the outlines of reality. | Wallace Stegner | ||
| 77e3075 | And it was then I began to realize for the first time that there are two distinct sides to a writer of fiction. First, there is the side he displays to the public, that of an ordinary person like anyone else, a person who does ordinary things and speaks ordinary language. Second, there is the secret side, which comes out in him only after he has closed the door of his workroom and is completely alone. It is then that he slips into another w.. | Roald Dahl | ||
| d9519c6 | Oh, my sainted aunt! Don't mention that disgusting stuff in front of me! Do you know what breakfast cereal is made of? It's made of all those little curly wooden shavings you find in pencil sharpeners! | Roald Dahl | ||
| 5265e36 | A stodgy parent is no fun at all. What a child wants and deserves is a parent who is SPARKY | parenting | Roald Dahl | |
| 259f3dc | I therefore invite you all," Mr Fox went on, 'to stay here with me for ever.' For ever!' they cried. 'My goodness! How marvellous!' And Rabbit said to Mrs Rabbit, 'My dear, just think! We're never going to be shot again in our lives!' We will make,' said Mr Fox, 'a little underground village, with streets and houses on each side - seperate houses for Badgers and Moles and Rabbits and Weasels and Foxes. And every day I will go shopping for y.. | Roald Dahl | ||
| cf074c6 | Dreams is full of mystery and magic . . . . Do not try to understand them. | Roald Dahl | ||
| bd93868 | To forget would be not only dangerous but offensive; to forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time. | Elie Wiesel | ||
| 6958b24 | Society is what decides who's sane and who isn't, so you got to measure up. | society | Ken Kesey | |
| 6bc35dd | His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories they were--about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the crimes that he des.. | Robert Louis Stevenson | ||
| 1d1ba48 | Sightseeing is the art of disappointment. | Robert Louis Stevenson | ||
| 668fb6a | My taste runs to hourglasses, maps, seventeenth-century typefaces, etymologies, the taste of coffee, and the prose of Robert Louis Stevenson. | Jorge Luis Borges | ||
| b838ad0 | The brown paper bag is the only thing civilized man has produced that does not seem out of place in nature. | nature | Tom Robbins |