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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| c3d4b83 | You are so . . . odd." "I shall take that as a compliment." -Thor to No'One" | J.R. Ward | ||
| 2eb1c3a | V sat back on his heels, crossed his arms, and continued to look down at the little bag of vampire. And what do you know. That infant sonofabitch glared right back at him. Vishous | J.R. Ward | ||
| 0b75ecf | In the Old Language, she hissed, "If any harm shall befall him, I will come after you, and find where you sleep. I do not care where you lay your head or who with, my vengeance shall rain upon you until you drown." | lover-at-last layla qhuinn j-r-ward | J.R. Ward | |
| d97a27c | The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the World Series?" "The New York Yankees," Butch replied. The vampire laughed in a loud burst, whipped the baseball cap off his head, and slapped it on his thigh." | black-dagger-brotherhood j-r-ward dark-lover vishous yankees butch | J.R. Ward | |
| 39e9c62 | Rehv swooped down with his long arms and gathered her up against him, tucking her with vital care to his chest. Ducking his head to hers, his voice was deep and grave. "I never thought I would see you again." As he shuddered, she lifted her hands up to his torso. After holding herself back for a moment...she embraced him as fully as he did her. "You smell the same," she said rought, putting her nose right into the collar of his fine silk sh.. | xhex | J.R. Ward | |
| 43b6e3a | Wrath jammed a finger in V's face. "Don't follow me. We clear? You don't follow me." "You stupid fool," V said with total exhaustion. "You're the king. We all must follow you." | wrath | J.R. Ward | |
| 4b4dda9 | One shot. That was all you got. - Isaac | J.R. Ward | ||
| ce64a79 | You are the one. For her, you are the one. | J.R. Ward | ||
| e51f11a | You so need to lighten up about that potato-launcher incident," Butch said. Phury rolled his eyes and eased back in the banquette. "You broke my window." "Of course we did. V and I were aiming for it." | J.R. Ward | ||
| 920a98a | Quartering the topmost branches of one of the tall trees, an invisible bird was striving to make the day seem shorter, exploring with a long-drawn note the solitude that pressed it on every side, but it received at once so unanimous an answer, so powerful a repercussion of silence and of immobility, that one felt it had arrested for all eternity the moment which it had been trying to make pass more quickly. | solitude silence birdsong passage-of-time | Marcel Proust | |
| 60c15ab | None of us constitutes a material whole, identical for everyone, which a person has only to go look up as though we were a book of specifications or a last testament; our social personality is a creation of the minds of others. Even the very simple act that we call "seeing a person we know" is in part an intellectual one. We fill the physical appearance of the individual we see with all the notions we have about him, and of the total pictur.. | Marcel Proust | ||
| 2d689cd | At that time, he was satisfying a sensual curiosity by experiencing the pleasures of people who live for love. He had believed he could stop there, that he would not be obliged to learn their sorrows; how small a thing her charm was for him now compared with the astounding terror that extended out from it like a murky halo, the immense anguish of not knowing at every moment what she had been doing, of not possessing her everywhere and alway.. | love | Marcel Proust | |
| deaa842 | Sometimes, as Eve was born from one of Adam's ribs, a woman was born during my sleep from a cramped position of my thigh. Formed from the pleasure I was on the point of enjoying, she, I imagined, was the one offering it to me. My body, which felt in hers my own warmth, would try to find itself inside her, I would wake up. The rest of humanity seemed very remote compared to this woman I had left scarcely a few moments before; my cheek was st.. | sleep | Marcel Proust | |
| e6fdc29 | After a certain age our memories are so intertwined with one another that what we are thinking of, the book we are reading, scarcely matters any more. We have put something of ourselves everywhere, everything is fertile, everything is dangerous, and we can make discoveries no less precious than in Pascal's in an advertisement for soap. | Marcel Proust | ||
| 9510ad4 | Habit enables us to cling to the familiar, to the self we think we know with a persistence almost irresistible. An anodyne for the terror of the unknown, it effectively keeps us from knowing, and is fatal in itself. Habit is a fiction the organism requires to dim perception. It screens us from the world, and from the true world of the self. Habit--no matter how intense the suffering it causes--is the last thing the personality will give up... | proust | Howard Moss | |
| c24ce3a | This was not to say, however, that she did not long, at times, for some greater change, that she did not experience some of those exceptional moments when one thirsts for something other than what is, and when those who, through lack of energy or imagination, are unable to generate any motive power in themselves, cry out, as the clock strikes or the postman knocks, for something new, even if it is worse, some emotion, some sorrow; when the .. | Marcel Proust | ||
| ad87734 | There were twenty questions, and forty was the top score. I scored a thirty- eight, which means I would be graduating with honors if I majored in being a sociopath. | Lisa Scottoline | ||
| 0559a7c | Let's talk about a decision that women have to make every morning- Big purse or little purse? | Lisa Scottoline | ||
| 6b48b5d | It's the Snickers bars. Snickers equal romance. | romance | Lisa Scottoline | |
| 4e4e062 | It was a pity that there was no radar to guide one across the trackless seas of life. Every man had to find his own way, steered by some secret compass of the soul. And sometimes, late or early, the compass lost its power and spun aimlessly on its bearings. Alan Bishop | life compass direction | Arthur C. Clarke | |
| e75dfe4 | if one had to think about every footstep one took, ordinary walking would be impossible. | Arthur C. Clarke | ||
| 7d72e3b | There was nothing left of Earth. They had leeched away the last atoms of its substance. It had nourished them, through the fierce moments of their inconceivable metamorphosis, as the food stored in a grain of wheat feeds the infant plant while it climbs towards the Sun. | Arthur C. Clarke | ||
| 17fde01 | Now, before you make a movie, you have to have a script, and before you have a script, you have to have a story; though some avant-garde directors have tried to dispense with the latter item, you'll find their work only at art theaters. | storytelling | Arthur C. Clarke | |
| ab2ac2e | I realize that we are often wary of making these kinds of broad generalizations about different cultural groups--and with good reason. This is the form that racial and ethnic stereotypes take. We want to believe that we are not prisoners of our ethnic histories. But the simple truth is that if you want to understand ... you to go back to the past ... it matters where you're from, not just in terms of where you grew up or where your parent.. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| 8555910 | He was maxed out. He had no resources left to do anything else. That's what happens when you're tired. Your decision-making skills erode. You start missing things--things that you would pick up on any other day. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| 7cbb03e | Flom had the same experience...He didn't triumph over adversity. Instead, what started out as adversity ended up being an opportunity. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| 9c1de1f | Happiness, in one sense, is a function of how closely our world conforms to the infinite variety of human preference. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| 64604fb | Write poorly. Write Don't Turn off the inner editor Let yourself Let it Let yourself Do something Write fifty thousand words in the month of November. I did it. It was , it was , it was It was But you have to turn off your inner critic. Off completely. Just In With If you can't write, run away for a few. Come Write Writing is like anything else. You won't get good at it immediately. It's a craft, you have to keep getting be.. | writing | Colleen Hoover | |
| 0c3b0a5 | To a worm in horseradish, the world is horseradish. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| e05d75c | We pretend that success is exclusively a matter of individual merit. But there's nothing in any of the histories we've looked at so far to suggest things are that simple. These are stories, instead, about people who were given a special opportunity to work really hard and seized it, and who happened to come of age at a time when that extraordinary effort was rewarded by the rest of society. Their success was not just of their own making. It.. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| 6089b23 | I think when one's working, one works between absolute confidence and absolute doubt, and I got a huge dallop of each. | Malcolm Gladwell | ||
| cc3f0c0 | If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet deprecate agitation, are men who want crops without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.This struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, and it may be both moral and physical, but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without demand. It never did and it never will... Men may not get .. | Frederick Douglass | ||
| 2915e3b | We have men sold to build churches, women sold to support the gospel, and babes sold to purchase Bibles for the poor heathen, all for the glory of God and the good of souls. The slave auctioneer's bell and the church-going bell chime in with each other, and the bitter cries of the heart-broken slave are drowned in the religious shouts of his pious master. Revivals of religion and revivals in the slave trade go hand in hand. | slavery revivals slave slave-owners piety superstition | Frederick Douglass | |
| 4d7bb1b | Her womb from her body. Separation. Her clitoris from her vulva. Cleaving. Desire from her body. We were told that bodies rising to heaven lose their vulvas, their ovaries, wombs, that her body in resurrection becomes a male body. The Divine Image from woman, severing, immortality from the garden, exile, the golden calf split, birth, sorrow, suffering. We were told that the blood of a woman after childbirth conveys uncleanness. That if a wo.. | feminism separation | Susan Griffin | |
| fe30833 | When ethnicity is all you think about, there's bound to be confrontation...But if we see each other as individuals, then it's possible to treat each other as equals. | Hiromu Arakawa | ||
| c9f5834 | La evocacion tiene sobre la experiencia la ventaja de una riqueza y de una facilidad infinita pero aparta de la experiencia (esencialmente paralizada). Sin la exuberancia de la evocacion, la experiencia seria razonable. Comienza a partir de mi locura, si la impotencia de la evocacion me asquea. La poesia abre la noche al exceso del deseo. La noche que han dejado los estragos de la poesia es en mi la medida de un rechazo --de mi loca volunta.. | libertad poesía | Georges Bataille | |
| 4ab6f0a | From incoherent barkings of desire, man can advance to distinct speech now that, labelling the object with a name, he is able to make an implicit connection between the material it is made of and the work required to get it from the old state to the new in which it is ready for use. Thenceforth language firmly anchors the object in the stream of time. | Georges Bataille | ||
| 38ad1ef | My stupidity gave its blessing to succouring nature, on her knees before God. What I am (my drunken laughter and happiness) is nonetheless at stake, handed over to chance, thrown out into the night, chased away like a dog. The wind of truth responded like a slap to piety's extended cheek. The heart is human to the extent that it rebels (this means: to be a man is 'not to bow down before the law'). A poet doesn't justify -- he doesn't accept.. | poetry philosophy | Georges Bataille | |
| 30bea1d | What is it about sadness that can be so fulfilling? | Lori Lansens | ||
| 00a473d | It was better not to get too close to another person. The closer you got, the more likely you were to get hurt. | Rosamunde Pilcher | ||
| 57fea31 | You know what guys do? They stand up for people. You know why? Two reasons. It's right. And it feels good. Even if the person doesn't know what you did. Maybe especially then. | David Lubar | ||
| 1593476 | You haven't touched me, and I'm already unfocused.: | luc-traverson | Shayla Black | |
| 815ba0c | Stay where I can taste you. Take the pleasure I give you. | luc-traverson | Shayla Black | |
| 3fcba7e | You're not the first Elite Ops agent to fall in love and you won't be the last," Ian informed him (Nik). "I've watched four of you fall so far, and I'll be here to watch your commander go down fighting as well. Protecting your woman isn't your problem; it's protecting your heart." | Lora Leigh |