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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 2317436 | He thought he suddenly understood. For the Lincon-shire sergeant-major the word Peace meant that a man could stand up on a hill. For him it meant someone to talk to. | tietjens | Ford Madox Ford | |
| a0f536c | Seven smirked as he walked back over to me. "I gave you catharsis last night. Twice." | funny humor catharsis | T.J. Klune | |
| e602675 | family is not defined by blood. It's not always who you're born to that you're stuck with. It's what you want it to be, what you make of it. It's the people around you who see you at your worst and are not afraid to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. It's the people who can call you on your bullshit. It's tough to hear, but if you do hear it, it means that someone gives a damn about you and chances are you should probably listen. It's .. | T.J. Klune | ||
| 78d5308 | You guys look like you liked Mumford & Sons before everyone else did and now don't like them because everyone else does. | T.J. Klune | ||
| dd7d53e | Joe crowded into my side, sitting down next to me, not leaving any room between us. The meal was an exercise in torture. He leaned in often when talking to me, breath on my neck, whispering in my ear. He touched my arm, my hand, my thigh. He had a straw in his soda. He never used straws. Never. But he had one now, pulled from somewhere, eyelashes fluttering up at me as he sucked, cheeks hollowing. I dropped my fork. It clattered loudly onto.. | T.J. Klune | ||
| e296e1a | found out I really hated dancing with strangers who were trying to get up in my business, so I filled in the silence with vivid descriptions of how we'd have at least ten kids and that I knew a spell that would allow us to get pregnant so we could take turns just popping out the ass babies. I'm pretty sure a couple of them all but ran by the time we'd finished. I waved after them. | T.J. Klune | ||
| dec206c | Okay, okay. So. First things first. Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Second thing: I should probably say "thank you" for saving my life. Say it and then follow it up with something funny like... okay. Spinach joke. Spinach joke. Shit. Um... Oh, I know! What do anal sex and spinach have in common? If you're forced to have either as a child, you won't want it as an adult. Holy fucking Christ. What the fuck is wrong with me? There is no way I can make a.. | T.J. Klune | ||
| 0fa57dc | Commercial Art tries to make you buy things. Graphic Design gives you ideas. | commercial graphic-design graphics design | Chip Kidd | |
| 9b6f174 | I see a poem as a multi-coloured strip behind peeling plaster, in separate, shining fragments. | Stanisław Lem | ||
| fece2d2 | But..." Both men looked over inquiringly when Maximus spoke. "But I never asked you to help me with Noakes." Makepeace nodded, his expression grave. "You didn't have to." "You never had to," St. John concurred." | friendship ghost-of-st-giles maiden-lane duke-of-midnight elizabeth-hoyt | Elizabeth Hoyt | |
| 9755501 | For the first time in a very long time, he yearned to see tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day after that and the year after that. There was a possibility that with Megs he might have a life to look forward to. And because of that, tonight he was going to hunt down a man and assassinate him in cold blood. This act would damn his very soul but for Megs it was worth it. For Meggie he would walk the fires of hell. | love | Elizabeth Hoyt | |
| 4d3660b | He looked down at her as he eased from the bed. Why such a creature of light and love and life should have come to him, he could not fathom. But he was grateful. Very grateful. | godric lord-of-darkness | Elizabeth Hoyt | |
| c76a35c | Silence cleared her throat, fearful her voice would come out a croak. "Is she asleep?" He blinked as if he, too, were waking from a dream, and glanced down at Mary Darling. "Aye, I'm a-thinkin' she is--she's stopped fussin' at me." Silence felt a huge smile of relief spread over her face. "She was fussing? Oh, how wonderful!" He shot her a look, one eyebrow arching. "Ye've taught the child to bully me, too, now?" "Oh, no," she said hastily,.. | silence scandalous-desires mickey | Elizabeth Hoyt | |
| fd0989c | Griffin took one step toward the big desk and swiped his arms across the entire top. Pens, papers, books, a small marbel bust, and an ink well all crashed to the floor. Griffin leaned across the desk, his arms braced on the now-clear top, and stared into Wakefield's outraged eyes. "We seem to be under a confusion of communication. I did not come here to ask for your sisters hand. I came to tell you I will marry Hero, with or without your p.. | Elizabeth Hoyt | ||
| eab62f4 | Paris. City of love. City of dreams. City of splendour. City of saints and scholars. City of gaiety. Sink of iniquity. In two thousand years, Paris had seen it all. | Edward Rutherfurd | ||
| 6d675a7 | She was quiet for a moment or two. Then she said: 'Cruel words are a terrible thing, Quash. Sometimes you regret them. But what's been said cannot be unsaid. | Edward Rutherfurd | ||
| ecb6d54 | Even a mentally challenged shark would figure out that sea turtles did not wear boxer shorts printed in flying piggies, and no sea turtle would be yattering streams of obscenities between chain-smoker gasps of breath. | island-of-the-sequined-love-nun | Christopher Moore | |
| 9c329b5 | then he looked at my T-shirt and saw Byron's picture on it and he quoted "She Walks in Beauty," which is like my favorite poem next to the one by Baudelaire about his girlfriend being nothing but worm food, except that Lily called that one first because Baudelaire is her fave poet and so she got the shirt with him on it, even though Byron is way more scrumptious and I would do him on sharp gravel if I had the chance. --from The Chronicles o.. | you-suck | Christopher Moore | |
| bebbdef | Lash had been explaining to her that it's impolite to refer to an African American as a nigga, unless one was another African American, when Troy Lee came in and said, "She only speaks Cantonese." "She does not. She keeps coming in and saying 'What's up my nigga?'" "Oh yeah. She does that to me, too. Did you give her a pound?" "No. I didn't give her a pound, motherfucker. She called me a nigga." "Well, she's not going to quit unless you giv.. | humourous-situations | Christopher Moore | |
| 7710d50 | I'll not have an exchange with an impudent fool." [Oswald] He's not impudent," said Jones [the puppet]. "With proper inspiration, the lad sports a woody as stout as a mooring pin. Ask your lady." I nodded in agreement with the puppet, for he is most wise for having a brain of sawdust. Impudent! Impudent! Not impotent!" said Oswald, frothing a bit now." | fool | Christopher Moore | |
| ee4420d | in reference to turkey bowling] He [Tommy] squinted and picked his target, then took his steps and sent the bird sliding down the aisle. A collective gasp rose from the crew as the fourteen-pound, self-basting, fresh-frozen projectile of wholesome savory goodness plowed into the soap bottles like a freight train into a chorus line of drunken grandmothers. | christopher-moore | Christopher Moore | |
| 00e900f | Like last year I took Advance Foods class (which is like cooking for nerds) after lunch, and so I usually took a nap. Which was fine, because I'm not even thrilled about regular foods, so, you know, what do I need with like advanced digital HD wi-fi foods and whatnot? -Abby | you-suck | Christopher Moore | |
| 6dd6ef6 | You think too much. Thinking will bring you nothing but suffering. Be simple. | Christopher Moore | ||
| 7cb68ac | Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead.' Then she called him a name in a dead language that translated, roughly, to 'poop on a stick,' but sounded more succinct, like this: 'Of course they won't bloody remember, they'll be dead, Poopstick. | Christopher Moore | ||
| 14aff58 | She can be a whirlwind of tits and terror when she puts her mind to a purpose, can't she, sir? | female-empowerment terror | Christopher Moore | |
| 2bedfbf | If you don't take the shot...you'll never know whether it would have gone in or not. | Mike Lupica | ||
| 66a9a88 | Would it be such a terrible thing for us to fall in love?" he asked. | love renagades tremayne turncoat kate grey peter morning ask terrible | Donna Thurland | |
| c899cb7 | A man who has been dead for a week in a hot trailer looks more like a man than you would first expect. | murder | Lynda Barry | |
| 1634c19 | something can only become an illusion after disillusionment. before that, it is something real. what caused the disillusionment? no one told me the print on the wall was just ink and paper and had no life of its own. at some point the cat stopped blinking, and i stopped thinking it could. | Lynda Barry | ||
| b9b93c0 | What is it? The ordinary is EXTRAORDINARY. The ordinary is extraordinary. The ordinary is the thing we want back when someone we love dies. When someone dies or leaves or falls out of love with us. We call it "little things". We say, "it's the little things I miss most." The ordinary things. It's the little thing that brings them back to us unexpectedly. We say "reminds us" but it is more than reminding-it's a conflagration-it's an inundati.. | Lynda Barry | ||
| 095d9d8 | I am hell with a knife and there is nothing I can really do about it but try and keep my mouth shut and try not to let it show. | teenagers hell | Lynda Barry | |
| 0403f32 | If you're Strigoi," the boy interrupted loudly, "then why don't you have horns? My friend Jeffrey said Strigoi have horns." Dimitri's eyes fell not on the boy but on me for a moment. Again, that spark of knowing shot between us. Then, face smooth and serious, Dimitri turned to the boy and answered, "Strigoi don't have horns. And even if they did, it wouldn't matter because I'm not a Strigoi." | little-boys recovery | Richelle Mead | |
| c5d6040 | God was never about making me spiffy; God was about making me new. New doesn't always look perfect. Like the Easter story itself, new is often messy. New looks like recovering alcoholics. New looks like reconciliation between family members who don't actually deserve it. New looks like every time I manage to admit I was wrong and every time I manage to not mention when I'm right. New looks like every fresh start and every act of forgiveness.. | Nadia Bolz-Weber | ||
| f252444 | The adjective so often coupled with mercy is the word tender, but God's mercy is not tender; this mercy is a blunt instrument. Mercy doesn't wrap a warm, limp blanket around offenders. God's mercy is the kind that kills the thing that wronged it and resurrects something new in its place. In our guilt and remorse, we may wish for nothing but the ability to rewrite our own past, but what's done cannot, will not, be undone. But I am here to sa.. | Nadia Bolz-Weber | ||
| eaea36f | Here's my image of Ash Wednesday: If our lives were a long piece of fabric with our baptism on one end and our funeral on another, and we don't know the distance between the two, then Ash Wednesday is a time when that fabric is pinched in the middle and the ends are held up so that our baptism in the past and our funeral in the future meet. The water and words from our baptism plus the earth and words from our funerals have come from the p.. | Nadia Bolz-Weber | ||
| 81d8968 | And always, always, it is worth it to sing alleluia in defiance of the devil, who surely hates the sound of it. | Nadia Bolz-Weber | ||
| 69a837a | Those most qualified to speak the gospel are those who truly know how unqualified they are to speak the gospel. | Nadia Bolz-Weber | ||
| 9aba43b | sll@ lnhy@ 'ntmy ly jyl wrth lrtyb tjh lymn " lmsyHy " khlq fy dhth lkfr bkl 'nw` lymn . abw'n mzlw ymtlkwn lb`th lymny ldhy nqlwh mn lmsyHy@ l~ 'shkl 'khr~ mn lwhm , b`Dhm kn mn lmtHmsyn llmsw@ ljtm`y@ , b`D mnhm qtSr `l~ `shq ljml ldhth , b`D akhr 'wd` ymnh fy l`lm wmnf`h , wthm@ akhrwn , 'kthr msyHy@ , mDw ybHthwn fy mshrq l'rD wmGrbh `n 'shkl tdyny@ 'khr~ ltlhy@ lw`y ldhy syGdw mjwf bdwnh fy tjrb@ l`ysh lkhlS , hdh klh fqdnh nHn, wmn k.. | Fernando Pessoa | ||
| 38cc39a | Nao aspiro a nada. Doi-me a vida. Estou mal onde estou e ja mal onde penso em poder estar. | life-and-living lack-of-motivation | Fernando Pessoa | |
| 3294bdf | To have touched the feet of Christ is no excuse for mistakes in punctuation. If a man writes well only when he's drunk, then I'll tell him: Get drunk. And if he says that it's bad for his liver, I'll answer: What's your liver? A dead thing that lives while you live, whereas the poems you write live without while. | poetry writing motivation | Fernando Pessoa | |
| 94a7a16 | I don't know what understanding myself is. I don't look inside. I don't believe I exist behind myself. | understanding seeing personality existence nature reality personae pantheism feeling clarity meaning-of-life paganism self | Alberto Caeiro | |
| 3f6bbdf | Ao toque adormecido da morfina Perco-me em transparencias latejantes | pessoa poesía | Fernando Pessoa | |
| cddb971 | Era domingo. Se fumasse, acenderia agora um cigarro para ficar com ar de pessoa distraida. Mas assim tao sem vicios e portanto sem ter sobre o que derramar a distracao que desejava, ai - assim ficava tao solta. Perdi ate o sono, suspirou, como se o sono fosse a sua ultima reserva de seguranca. E estou compreguica de trabalhar e tenho vontade de falar uma palavrao, que merda tambem. | Caio Fernando Abreu | ||
| 052d050 | hkdh 'ktb, bshkl jyd 'w rdy, mSyban fym ys`~ lyh qwly 'w mkhTy'an, 't`thr hn, 'nhD hnk, mwSlan Tryqy, Tryq '`m~ `nyd. | Fernando Pessoa |