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a1bad82 Newspapers are a bad habit, the reading equivalent of junk food. What happens to me is that I seize upon an issue in the news--the issue is the moral/philosophical, political/intellectual equivalent of a cheeseburger with everything on it; but for the duration of my interest in it, all my other interests are consumed by it, and whatever appetites and capacities I may have had for detachment and reflection are suddenly subordinate to this ch.. junk-food newspapers politics John Irving
25fdc34 It happens to many teenagers-that moment when you feel full of resentment or distrust for those adults you once loved unquestioningly. John Irving
7bdc8ae Bonkie bit Garp!" Garp bit Bonkie" John Irving
a94c8c1 The powerful wind swept his hair away from his face; he leaned his chest into the wind, as if he stood on the deck of a ship heading into the wind, slicing through the waves of an ocean he'd not yet seen. John Irving
a1178f4 A rainy day can actually be a very important day. And a small hope isn't really small if it makes a lost hope less sad. Rachel Simon
b0b1518 If there is anything else you desire, Your--" "I desire"--the king interrupted in a level voice--"never again to see your living face." Megan Whalen Turner
82510c2 Power. What men like best for themselves and least in their women. Megan Whalen Turner
c939ba9 Ridiculous to think what indignities I would suffer in silence, if I knew that I was to be rewarded with an oversize bucket of hot water," the magus said as he settled into the bath the servants had filled for him." Megan Whalen Turner
eb1d4af Oh, Lady," said the woodcutter, "my hurt is overwhelming because it is someone else's pain that makes me cry." sadness Megan Whalen Turner
4e312b9 We might someday attain a relationship of mutual respect," he said softly. First, I thought, I will see gods walking the earth. He went on. "For now I will have your obedience." His ability to convey a world of threat in so few words was remarkable." Megan Whalen Turner
e9e3e18 Sunlight is bad,' he wheezes. 'It's the exact same stuff as breeds maggots in wounded soldiers' legs. And when there's no war on, it fades wallpaper. Michel Faber
11b53ca But now she could not bear the way she sounded. She was not a person anyone could love. ... And thus fled to her room. There she wept, bitterly, an ugly sound punctuated by great gulps. She could not stop herself. She could hear his footsteps in the passage outside. He walked up and down, up and down. 'Come in,' she prayed. 'Oh dearest, do come in.' But he did not come in. He would not come in. This was the man she had practically contracte.. fiction Peter Carey
3cc80cf not stories, but histories. For this too I learned, that a storyteller's tale may end, but history goes on always. stories storytelling Jacqueline Carey
451c314 I seek words of such surpassing beauty that they might melt the hardest heart of stone. Jacqueline Carey
1b7f97e There would be love, and while it was mine, I could cling to it. I could rejoice -- in life, in the existence of love. In the existence of people like Phedre and Joscelin. Although the standards they set were impossibly high, still, I could rejoice that such courage and compassion existed in the world. I could hope and aspire. hope life love Jacqueline Carey
764fc3b Soon never comes soon enough to a young child. Jacqueline Carey
94a3263 Again and again, I pushed my memories away. There were days when it was easy and days when it was hard. My love ... was a boulder in my heart. I sought to let go of it and let it sink. Let it sink below the surface, carrying my heart with it. Let it come to rest on the stream's bottom, a vast hidden bulwark, dividing the current. Let it stay there, hidden and unseen. Forgotten. Betimes it worked. Betimes it didn't. It was the best I could d.. Jacqueline Carey
a89ae43 The self," Blackmore writes, "is just a fleeting impression that arises with each experience and fades away again. . . . There is no inner self," she argues, "only multiple parallel processes that give rise to a benign inner delusion--a useful fiction." She argues that consciousness itself is a fiction." Sy Montgomery
0911e7f One does not really feel much grief at other people's sorrows; one tries, and puts on a melancholy face, thinking oneself brutal for not caring more; but one cannot and it is better, for if one grieved too deeply at other people's tears, life would be unendurable; and every man has sufficient sorrows of his own without taking to heart his neighbour's. W. Somerset Maugham
8b4352e As we grow older we become more conscious of the complexity, incoherence, and unreasonableness of human beings; this indeed is the only excuse that offers for the middle-aged or elderly writer, whose thoughts should more properly be turned to graver matters, occupying himself with the trivial concerns of imaginary people. For if the proper study of mankind is man it is evidently more sensible to occupy yourself with the coherent, substantia.. W. Somerset Maugham
7790212 I read *old* novels. The reason is simple. I prefer proper endings. Diane Setterfield
a52012a Art, its completeness, its formedness, its finishedness, had no power to console. Words on the other hand, were a lifeline. They left their hushed rhythm behind, a counter to the slow in and out of Emmeline's breathing. Diane Setterfield
025b0d4 Kovacs to a female believer in New Revelation: "..I'm calling you a gutless betrayer of your sex. I can see your husband's angle, he's a man, he's got everything to gain from this crapshit. But you? You've thrown away centuries of political struggle and scientific advance so you can sit in the dark and mutter your superstitions of unworth to yourself. You'll let your life, the most precious thing you have, be stolen from you hour by hour an.. fundamentalism new-revelation religion Richard K. Morgan
5d61d20 like all men of power, when he talked of prices worth paying, you could be sure of one thing. Someone else was paying. Richard K. Morgan
1e64985 It was the single forgiving phrase in the syntax of weaponry I had strapped about me. The rest were unequivocal sentences of death. Richard K. Morgan
d629e26 The difference between virtuality and life is very simple. In a construct you know everything is being run by an all-powerful machine. Reality doesn't offer this assurance, so it's very easy to develop the mistaken impression that you're in control. Richard K. Morgan
4370004 the tongues of men are not much leashed by concerns for accuracy or truth. Richard K. Morgan
e47217c The fields that push up the corn, and the water that rushes down the ravine, the juice of the grape, and the life of a man as it flows past him, are all one and the same thing. The sole unity in life is the unity of rhythm. A rhythm to which we all dance; men, apples, ravines, ploughed fields, carts among the corn, houses, horses, and the sun. The stuff that is in you, Gauguin, will pound through a grape tomorrow, because you and the grape .. Irving Stone
c39f26c What we know of others is our personal secret. Irving Stone
b322dbe So all in all there wasn't anything really wrong with my life. Except that, like most everyone else's I knew about, it had a big gaping hole in it, an enormous emptiness, and I didn't know how to fill it or even know what belonged there. Jack Finney
b00283f Who owns a man, Durnik?" the blond young man asked sadly. "The one who rules him, or the one who pays him?" David Eddings
893f7ba I am not Cugel the Clever for nothing! dying-earth fantasy vance Jack Vance
1eba1c3 The need of one human being for the approval of his fellow humans, the need for a certain cult of fellowship - a psychological, almost physiological need for approval of one's thought and action. A force that kept men from going off at unsocial tangents, a force that made for social security and human solidarity, for the working together of the human family. Men died for that approval, sacrificed for that approval, lived lives they loathed.. Clifford D. Simak
51e0869 Jenkins tried to say goodbye, but he could not say goodbye. If he could only weep, he thought, but robots could not weep. Clifford D. Simak
7887fa8 I felt that pressure of time that is perhaps the surest indication we have left childhood behind. Gene Wolfe
a81de9b We are told that "the meek shall inherit the earth." It follows that the meek are chosen of God. I shall try to be meek, not because I want the earth - you can keep it, after the way you've fucked it around it's not worth having - but because I too should like to be chosen of God. QED. Besides, I like animals better than you bastards." pollution John Brunner
74349e7 Then she yelled after the girl, 'No, we haven't seen any bald 'uns all days. But yesterday seventeen of 'em went by. Arm in arm! Astrid Lindgren
2ac3aa3 Aren't you going to dry the floor?' asked Annika. 'Oh, no, it can dry in the sun,' answered Pippi. 'I don't think it will catch cold so long as it keeps moving. humor Astrid Lindgren
8ec749e Everything is connected. Alan Moore
2916937 Unlike T.V., we cannot have too much of science, despite its nuclear quirks. With science, ideas can germinate within a bed of theory, form, and practice that assists their growth ... but we, as gardeners, must beware, for some seeds are the seeds of ruin, and the most iridescent blooms are often the most dangerous. Alan Moore
db8ed89 It's early days. A few skeletons are bound to keep jumping out of the closet. Alan Moore
13e56f2 In 1965, worked with Nite Owl bringing street gangs under control. Tackled the Big Figure together. Brought down Underboss together. Good team. Until he got soft, like rest. Until he quit. No staying power. None of them. Except Comedian. Met him in 1966. Forceful personality. Didn't care if people liked him. Uncompromising. Admired that. Of us all, he understood most. About world. About people. About society and what's happening to it. Thin.. Alan Moore
7378bb7 This is an IMAGINARY STORY...aren't they all? Alan Moore
3942be7 Our nights are different. She falls asleep like someone yielding to the gentle tug of a warm tide, and floats with confidence till morning. I fall asleep more grudgingly, thrashing at the waves, either reluctant to let a good day depart or still bitching about a bad one. Different currents run through our spells of unconsciousness. sleep Julian Barnes