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7113850 Yes," I said "You were saved by a girl. Horrible, isn't it?" He slid out and looked down at my bare legs. "Not just a girl, but a half-naked one. Now that's hot. If I'm still unconscious, don't wake me, okay?" Kelley Armstrong
cde8b18 mn byshtr b shkhst yftgn Hss hmdrdy mykhnm t b mqdsyn. gmn mykhnm khh mn qhrmny w tqds r zyd nmypsndm. anchh brym jlb st nsn bwdn st. Albert Camus
b3a6068 A person can go along quite awhile if they get a good day every once and again. Stephen King
41584d0 Life turns on a dime. Stephen King
9a04b42 Symbolism exists to adorn and enrich, not to create an artificial sense of profundity. writing Stephen King
cd41800 Strange world isn't it? world Stephenie Meyer
d0f1ca9 She was saved from prettiness by the intensity of her gaze. Paul Bowles
c9ae865 People who think dying is the is the worst thing don't know a thing about life. Sue Monk Kidd
cae6b0b We 're all yearning for a wedge of sky, aren 't we? I suspect God plants these yearnings in us so we'll at least try and change the course of things. We must try, that's all" - Lucretia Mott in The Invention of Wings -- Sue Monk Kidd" Sue Monk Kidd
8fc7b63 In many ways, women are death's natural companions. Every time a woman gives birth, she is creating not only a life, but a death. Samuel Beckett wrote that women "give birth astride of a grave." Mother Nature is indeed a real mother, creating and destroying in a constant loop." Caitlin Doughty
7479728 Solitude is the playfield of Satan. Vladimir Nabokov
9b16687 If I correctly understand the sense of this succinct observation, our poet suggests here that human life is but a series of footnotes to a vast obscure unfinished masterpiece. Vladimir Nabokov
b379d18 Time is rhythm: the insect rhythm of a warm humid night, brain ripple, breathing, the drum in my temple--these are our faithful timekeepers; and reason corrects the feverish beat. Vladimir Nabokov
d619650 We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Vladimir Nabokov
a31e2f6 The road now stretched across open country, and it occured to me - not by way of protest, not as a symbol, or anything like that, but merely as a novel experience - that since I had disregarded all laws of humanity, I might as well disregard the rules of traffic. So I crossed to the left side of the highway and checked the feeling, and the feeling was good. It was a pleasant diaphragmal melting, with elements of diffused tactility, all this.. Vladimir Nabokov
27533d8 Alas, I was unable to transcend the simple human fact that whatever spiritual solace I might find, whatever lithophanic eternities might be provided for me, nothing could make my Lolita forget the foul lust I had inflicted upon her. Unless it can be proven to me -to me as I am now, today, with my heart and my beard, and my putrefaction- that in the infinitue run it does not matter a jot that a North American girl-child names Dolores Haze ha.. Vladimir Nabokov
dfaed6d Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me. Vladimir Nabokov Lolita
de9e1b3 I believe the poor fierce-eyed child had figured out that with a mere fifty dollars in her purse she might somehow reach Broadway or Hollywood - or the foul kitchen of a diner (Help Wanted) in a dismal ex-prairie state, with the wind blowing, and the stars blinking, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen, and everything soiled, torn, dead. Vladimir Nabokov
13cdaad The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness. Although the two are identical twins, man, as a rule, views the prenatal abyss with more calm than the one he is heading for. afterlife calm common-sense cradle darkness death eternity existence life life-after-death light man Vladimir Nabokov
df5eb97 My only grudge against nature was that I could not turn my Lolita inside out and apply voracious lips to her young matrix, her unknown heart, her nacreous liver, the sea-grapes of her lungs, her comely twin kidneys. Vladimir Nabokov
3725b35 Children of her type contrive the purest philosophies. Ada had worked out her own little system. Hardly a week had elapsed since Van's arrival when he was found worthy of being initiated in her web of wisdom. An individual's life consisted of certain classified things: "real things" which were unfrequent and priceless, simply "things" which formed the routine stuff of life; and "ghost things," also called "fogs," such as fever, toothache, d.. fog life nabakov perfect real-things things towers Vladimir Nabokov
ab5e493 do what only a true artist can do ... pounce upon the forgotten butterfly of revelation Vladimir Nabokov
c3cf64c dirty birdy Stephen King
6cd6321 Man has come to dominate the planet thanks to two essential traits. One is intelligence. The other has been the absolute willingness to kill anyone and anything that gets in his way. Stephen King
5e9c4c6 Beating heroin is child's play compared to beating your childhood. heroin Stephen King
7551d4d Craziness is only a matter of degree, and there are lots of people besides me who have the urge to roll heads. They go to stock-car races and the horror movies and the wrestling matches they have in Portland Expo. Maybe what she said smacked of all those things, but I admired her for saying out loud, all the same--the price of honesty is always high. She had an admirable grasp of the fundamentals. Besides, she was tiny and pretty. charlie decker grace king rage richard stanner stephen Richard Bachman
ae929a4 Fools are the only folk on the earth who can absolutely count on getting what they deserve. Stephen King
939286a Ka was like a wheel, its one purpose to turn, and in the end it always came back to the place where it had started. Stephen King
ba75bc5 Men know what they want. Men make concrete plans. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn't on the floor. Men tip generously. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men go to the dentist. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they're thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before. (Okay, m.. Mindy Kaling
ee22099 I would rather have someone read my diary than look at my iPod playlists. Mindy Kaling
f5cc777 For the time being Words scatter Are they fallen leaves? leaves words Ruth Ozeki
0851c9d The past is weird. I mean, does it really exist ? It feels like it exists, but where is it ? And if it did exists, but doesn't now, then where did it go ? time Ruth Ozeki
54aae4c Peace fell upon her spirit. Strong comfort and assurance bathed her whole being. Life was so solid and splendid, and so good. Thomas Wolfe
d1042f7 Arrange your face Hilary Mantel
8c653f6 I have never thought that a Christian would be free of suffering, umfundisi. For our Lord suffered. And I come to believe that he suffered, not to save us from suffering, but to teach us how to bear suffering. For he knew that there is no life without suffering. Alan Paton
70e7351 But the truth is, I want to be some woman's work boots, not her high heels." "Work boots?" What was sexy about that? And did women have work boots? "Yeah. You know, the boots she pulls out when she wants to get down and dirty, hiking or gardening or boating or painting the kitchen. The ones she relies on and trusts and lives her life hard and good and on her terms in. Her favorites." relationship work-boots Erin McCarthy
b12f16e They lay listening. Can you do it? When the time comes? When the time comes there will be no time. Now is the time. Curse God and die. What if it doesn't fire? It has to fire. What if it doesn't fire? Could you crush that beloved skull with a rock? Is there such a being within you of which you know nothing? Can there be? Hold him in your arms. Just so. The soul is quick. Pull him toward you. Kiss him. Quickly. Cormac McCarthy
9885054 Creative work is often driven by pain. It may be that if you don't have something in the back of your head driving you nuts, you may not do anything. It's not a good arrangement. If I were God, I wouldn't have done it that way. creation creative-process driving-forces hardship pain writing Cormac McCarthy
052a486 The small wad of burning paper drew down to a wisp of flame and then died out leaving a faint pattern for just a moment in the incandescence like the shape of a flower, a molten rose. Then all was dark again. hopeful unusual Cormac McCarthy
c8ec58b This is an orchestration for an event. For a dance in fact. The participants will be apprised of their roles at the proper time. For now it is enough that they have arrived. As the dance is the thing with which we are concerned and contains complete within itself its own arrangement and history and finale there is no necessity that the dancers contain these things within themselves as well. In any event the history of all is not the history.. destiny fate history war Cormac McCarthy
13bb4be He lay on his back in his blankets and looked our where the quartermoon lay cocked over the heel of the mountains. In the false blue dawn the Pleiades seemed to be rising up into the darkness above the world and dragging all the stars away, the great diamond of Orion and Cepella and the signature of Cassiopeia all rising up through the phosphorous dark like a sea-net. He lay a long time listening to the others breathing in their sleep while.. constellations sky stars wild Cormac McCarthy
ec35109 Here beyond men's judgments all covenants were brittle. freedom frontier individualism justice liberalism libertarianism liberty mercy social-contract solidarity state-of-nature the-west Cormac McCarthy
51b5fb6 I read in the papers here a while back some teachers came across a survey that was sent out back in the thirties to a number of schools around the country. Had this questionnaire about what was the problems with teachin in the schools. And they come across these forms, they'd been filled out and sent in from around the country answerin these questions. And the biggest problems they could name was things like talkin in class and runnin in th.. Cormac McCarthy
f35debf He mistrusted all of that. He said the right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the call of languor and of death. He slept little and he slept poorly. He dreamt of walking in a flowering wood where birds flew before them he and the child and the sky was aching blue but he was learning how to wake himself from just such siren worlds. Lying there in the dark with the uncanny taste of a peach from some phantom orch.. Cormac McCarthy