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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 5891b51 | I believe that the ability to laugh at oneself is fundamental to the resiliency of the human spirit. | laugh-at-yourself laughter | Jill Conner Browne | |
| 6b43317 | Oh. Listen, this is really hard for me . . . | Catherine Gilbert Murdock | ||
| a54f211 | And that's where our conversation went from there, than God, both of us laughing our butts off at the thought of a hoops game between two teams on intravenous fluids. Which makes absolutely no sense at all; I know that. But that's why it cheered me up, because it was so absolutely stupid. It cheered me up more than I'd ever thought I'd be cheered up again. | Catherine Gilbert Murdock | ||
| ebe62ec | I'd promised myself that I'd really work on talking more, talking about uncomfortable things, because I could see from Brian how well things could work out if you did. | Catherine Gilbert Murdock | ||
| 5353c6c | Luca saw her bloodstained hands as the clerk bound them with a rope, and Luca realized that she was a thing of horror, a beautiful thing of horror, the worst thing between heaven and hell: a fallen angel. | Philippa Gregory | ||
| 3456eed | And I am much attached to my cock, brother. Make sure your sister can put another prince in the cradle, he says baldly. Save my balls for her, Anthony! | Philippa Gregory | ||
| 0c0c2c8 | Some of us are born to a solitary life. | Philippa Gregory | ||
| bed56f1 | There are women that men marry and there are women that men don't," Anne pronouned. "And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons." "Yes," Mary said. "I expect your right. But there clearly is a third sort and that is the woman that men neither marry or take as their mistress. Woman that go home ...alone for Xmas. And thats seems to be you my dear sister. Good day." | mary-boleyn tudor | Philippa Gregory | |
| 659f422 | Men die in battle; women die in childbirth. | gender-roles history men purpose religion war women | Philippa Gregory | |
| 9ff2424 | Ideas are more dangerous than an unsheathed sword in this world, half of them are forbidden, the other half would lead a man to question the very place of the earth itself, safe at the center of the universe. | Philippa Gregory | ||
| 6b9a631 | Lately, I haph startet painting my torso in pretty, motley hews. I sit in phront oph the mirror in the sleepy-room. I atmire my hantyworg. I am a hooman apstrat paining. | Mark Dunn | ||
| a76d054 | Why don't you want to see your mom? Did she burn your dolls in a sacrificial fire? Read your e-mail?" "She wants to run my life," I explain. "What a bitch. It's like she thinks she's your mother or something." "She's a psychopath," I said. "It's complicated." "Psychopaths can't afford fur coats." "This one can." | mothers-and-daughters teens-on-parents | Laurie Halse Anderson | |
| 305c856 | The time has come to arm-wrestle some demons. | Laurie Halse Anderson | ||
| e878a11 | The stars whirled above us and the firecrackers blazed. The moon stood watch as drops of blood fell, careless seeds that sizzled in the snow. | Laurie Halse Anderson | ||
| e9a26bc | Maybe I'll be an artist if I grow up. | Laurie Halse Anderson | ||
| b37ffe8 | It was like looking at a knot, knowing it was a knot, but not knowing how to untie it. I had no map for this life. | Laurie Halse Anderson | ||
| 8ca0e7c | I sent a simple smiley face, because my phone did not have a smiley face that was wrapping her hands around her own throat and beating her head against a wall. | Laurie Halse Anderson | ||
| 946b5d7 | here, there, and everywhere"-an opinionated riddle." | Mary downing hahn | ||
| 1d572d8 | I have to believe in possibility. How else can we bear the enormous weight of life? | Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni | ||
| aafb196 | I liked his voice, rich and unself-conscious even when he forgot words and hummed to fill in the gap. What I didn't understand, I imagined, and thus it became a love song. | Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni | ||
| 17178fe | Never choose something because it's easier. | Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni | ||
| c5301c6 | The world is a comedy to those that think; a tragedy to those that feel, | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 9aba4de | He was a baby once, she thought. New and perfect, cradled in his mother's arms. The mysterious Sylvie. Now he was a feathery husk, ready to blow away. His eyes were half open, milky, like an old dog, and his mouth had grown beaky with the extremity of age, opening and closing, a fish out of water. Bertie could feel a continual tremor running through him, an electrical current, the faint buzz of life. Or death, perhaps. Energy was gathering .. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| a73c04c | All the birds who were never born, all the songs that were never sung and so can only exist in the imagination. And this one is Teddy's. | alternate-universe ending heartbreaking heartwrenching imagination kate-atkinson last-lines sad tearjerker teddy-todd twist-ending what-if | Kate Atkinson | |
| 63ee5c4 | I can't help but think that it's an unfortunate custom to name children after people who come to sticky ends. Even if they are fictional characters, it doesn't bode well for the poor things. There are too many Judes and Tesses and Clarissas and Cordelias around. If we must name our children after literary figures then we should search out happy ones, although it's true they are much harder to find. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 8796172 | I was on the verge of something numinous and profound and in one more second the universe was going to crack open and arcana would rain down on my head like grace and all the cosmic mysteries were going to be revealed. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 6e5ccd0 | She told me about the cop. And the movie star, and the construction worker. You're not having a life Michael, you're fucking the Village People one at a time | gay-literature michael-tolliver | Armistead Maupin | |
| 3f042e2 | Don't listen when they scoff That you are too old and I am young, For I am old enough to know better And you are young enough not to care. | Armistead Maupin | ||
| e936d69 | Her apartment seemed fussier than ever, as if the doilies and tassels had taken to breeding in their unguarded moments. | Armistead Maupin | ||
| 116fadf | Mark Spitz didn't ask about Harry. You never asked about the characters that disappeared from a Last Night story. You knew the answer. The plague had a knack for narrative closure. | grief humour stories | Colson Whitehead | |
| 046831c | The music stopped. The circle broke. Sometimes a slave will be lost in a brief eddy of liberation. In the sway of a sudden reverie among the furrows or while untangling the mysteries of an early morning dream. In the middle of a song on a warm Sunday night. Then it comes, always - the overseer's cry, the call to work, the shadow of the master, the reminder that she is only a human being for a tiny moment across the eternity of her servitude.. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 63b30fc | You should read the book that you hear two booksellers arguing about at the registers while you're browsing in a bookstore. * You should read the book that you see someone on the train reading and trying to hide that they're laughing. * You should read the book that you see someone on the train reading and trying to hide that they're crying. * You should read the book that you find left behind in the airplane seat pocket, on a park bench, o.. | inspiration reading | Janet Potter | |
| 86d5186 | These ideas can be made more concrete with a parable, which I borrow from John Fowles's wonderful novel, The Magus. Conchis, the principle character in the novel, finds himself Mayor of his home town in Greece when the Nazi occupation begins. One day, three Communist partisans who recently killed some German soldiers are caught. The Nazi commandant gives Conchis, as Mayor, a choice -- either Conchis will execute the three partisans himself .. | Robert Anton Wilson | ||
| 07416a7 | Stop thinking about class, she'd say. Like a rich man telling a poor man to stop thinking about money. | money privilege | John Fowles | |
| 534d743 | I am Emma Woodhouse. I feel for her, of her and in her. I have a different sort of snobbism, but I understand her snobbism. Her priggishness. I admire it. I know she does wrong things, she tries to organize other people's lives, she can't see Mr Knightley is a man in a million. She's temporarily silly, yet all the time one knows she's basically intelligent. Creative, determined to set the highest standards. A real human being. | intelligence jane-austen mr-knightley snobbery | John Fowles | |
| 3840cd8 | I'd like to shower and change clothes," she said. "Would you mind waiting for me a half hour?" The question seemed to amuse him. "Not at all," he said with exaggerated formality. "Please take all the time you need." Michael watched her walk away. Did he mind waiting a half hour for her? | Judith McNaught | ||
| 16af1e7 | Do they still hurt?" she whispered in anguished surprise. | lovers once-and-always passion romance | Judith McNaught Once and Always | |
| ef64113 | You can't outwit fate by trying to stand on the sidelines and place little side bets about the outcome of life. Either you wade in and risk everything to play the game, or you don't play at all. And if you don't play, you can't win. | Judith McNaught | ||
| 77fe8ca | She'd tried her hand at most things, but drew the line at honesty. | Roddy Doyle | ||
| f3e1f8e | And I was glad she had the camera as a fence to protect herself, an excuse to be invisible. Cameras are a lifesaver for the very shy people who have nowhere else to hide. | Pat Conroy | ||
| 5385ef1 | The narrator analyzes that the maturing, passing away boy within him, "had issued me a challenge as he passed the baton to the man in me: He had challenged me to have the courage to become a gentle, harmless man." | manhood maturity | Pat Conroy | |
| 085691b | I meditated on the nature of friendship as I practiced the craft. My friends had always come from outside the mainstream. I had always been popular with the fifth column of my peers, those individuals who were princely in their solitude, lords of their own unpraised melancholy. Distrusting the approval of the chosen, I would take the applause of exiles anytime. My friends were all foreigners, and they wore their unbelongingness in their eye.. | Pat Conroy | ||
| 1946433 | I take it as an article of faith that the novels I've loved will live inside me forever. | Pat Conroy | ||
| 21e1595 | when the words pour out of you just right, you understand that these sentences are all part of a river flowing out of your own distant, hidden ranges, and all words become the dissolving snow that feeds your mountain streams forever. The language locks itself in the icy slopes of our own high passes, and it is up to us, the writers, to melt the glaciers within us. When these glaciers break off, we get to call them novels, the changelings of.. | Pat Conroy |