Thomm Quackenbush Quotes - Page 4

Man created god upon his thoughts to externalize, to give form to his belief to give a reason for what they could do. The gods stole away the energies, let man believe he was ruled rather than that he rules.

My soul is not satisfied with an inert universe. The gods may not make a habit of speaking to me personally, but I can't help but whisper comments to them.

Like chocolate, she craved sleep and it made her life brighter, but she could do without.

We can never know how much they deserve our sympathy, but we have to give it unreservedly as they are people innately full of the divine who instead choose to behave infernally owing to poor programming.

No divinity worth His salt could be contained in a book.

When colleges, both within the Hudson Valley and throughout the country, encouraged women to do little beyond attaining their Mrs. degree in Husbandry, Annandale offered rigorous and prestigious degrees irrespective of gender.

Ashlei was free to spout off how much she loved her savior because Jesus was not about to rear back and tell her He did not quite feel the same way, that He had died for the sins of the world just because it was fun and did not want things to be too serious. He was only thirty-three, after all, and might want to martyr himself for other people.

As a man, I was a failure. A pathetic teacher lusting after Catholic school girls in short skirts. As a monster, I'm superb. It's comforting to know my place in the world.

Were genuine aliens to find us… the chances were fairly good they would appear in a form beyond reckoning, shaped by the requirements of their environment. It was only for the convenience of the costume department of Star Trek that people believed in humanoid aliens.

I reserve magick for necessities, a bit like the good china. It has a time and a place, but eating peanut butter sandwiches off it each morning chips and devalues it.

Natural law has decreed it so. Isn't death as much a part of the flow as life? Why fight it? Because maybe the flow splashes into a bottomless pit past that blind turn.

She was not the sort of woman guys settle for. She was the one they lust after and strive for. She was the one who ruins other people's relationships simply by existing, but she will always be surmounted as guys come to realize the virtues of the approachable girl next door. She was, in brief, too pretty to be trusted or had.

I don’t think very many people get converted by someone telling them they are terrible. No one I’d want to rub shoulders with in Heaven, anyway.

She could never understand why creatures of darkness had the slightest interest in spineless human girls.

The gods preferring their libations diluted with rainwater and mixed with freshly cut grass.

His kisses were so hungry and male, which isn't bad. Every kiss said he could never have enough, but he wasn't going to stop trying. They were so hormonal. I wanted his sugar roughness. Girl's kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me - when I kiss her - she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.

We're all suicides. The tragedy is every day that we don't die.

As he had kissed her neck, she could not repress the feeling she was a lamb making time with a wolf.

I look at my students and have no trouble picturing just how successful they should be, if only we could remove them from the impetuses that brought them to the facility. If we could move them away from gangs. If we could get them into a rehab that stuck. If we could take them from people who abuse their trust, safety, and bodies.

Like any man, he had no real protection from an unsolicited kiss from a pretty woman, even one he had just murdered.

The problem is not that Santa stops existing but that we do. The children we are no longer exist, a fact we do not help through immersing ourselves in the repeating cycle of wake, work, dinner, internet, sleep.

He relented to the kiss and gave of himself what she required, his lips parting in symmetry with hers until the moment of realization collapsed.

As compassionate beings, we cannot harm others, not even through our inaction.

The stars glittered through the atmosphere, and he thought of the distances that light must take to hit his eye at exactly that moment. Without him here, those photons would have been wasted.

Mythology didn't cease to exist and be useful to Pagans when we gained digital watch technology.

[Epilepsy] gave her an adversity to fight against. It had shaped her personality, the need to be careful and secretive, and the ability to see things a bit differently from the neurotypical. She granted that this feeling of having a broken brain that required her to be sensitive, to look always inward to survive, might be why she turned artist.

A modern culture built on the back of dying gods immerses me.

They tell me how they are not scared to die, but they are terrified of the lives circumstance forces them to lead.

If you get enough people believing one thing, it's like reality bends itself to allow that to exist.

[H]er retaliation only made the sin the greater because she could not find words to confess.

My characters will happily march off a cliff if it is in them to do so, but may the gods help me if I write that the character is an alcoholic when they are not. They will fight me at every turn and it is their domain. A writer cannot win against a stubborn character.

At least the more modern princesses had the guts to do something aside from clean and wait to be rescued. They armed themselves and tried to provide good role models to impressionable girl tykes. It riled some innate feminist... that the princesses were strongest when they were acting like the men...

It is difficult to process the sacred masculine when your closest example has been a man smacking you around, verbally degrading you, lording over you, or otherwise proving a poor demonstration of the use of strength.

My Christmas was a sum total of the ministrations of adults, usually adults who wanted me to encourage my parents to buy something for me to consume and discard.

Her beauty was enough to get her into most any situation she desired and her tongue—sharp and venomous—was enough to get her out again.

They wouldn’t have understood if they found him crying, when he woke and remembered all at once that he had once had a wife and child, so they never found him this way.

The Hermit is an important tarot card with much to tell us, but he tends not to be so welcome around the bonfire.

We are left at the brink of our future each day and the only real choice we have is not to jump but instead make our path through the briar.

Isn’t Santa just a stand in for the society that has locked them up for formative years? Something that watches and judges, telling them that they got what they deserved based on their behavior? Surely they have to have noticed that Saint Nick, like the judicial system itself, tends to look more favorably upon rich children. He is fat, white, past middle age, and holds all the cards.

I hate those people who say you always find the one when you stop looking for her. It is the advice you least want to hear when what you think you need most is someone to love. At best, it comes off like being asked to not think of a white elephant. The elephant becomes the only thing you can think of.

My main nurturing instinct toward children is mild sadism--picking them up and threatening to drop them--which is why I am a good uncle but would make a poor father.

American culture enforces such rigid gender roles for male friendships that they are gay unless they materially resemble a beer commercial.

Within you, within all human beings, is a seed of greatness that makes their kind quake with fear.

Is there a term for when you are only gay for the top half of someone?”“I think that makes you bisect-ual.

If you can't feel the touch of the gods on your own, it greatly behooves you to work on that before some lecher tells you his touch is just as good.

Roselyn adored the scent of sex, the wafting aroma of angel fontanels before they earn their halos.

He was a fixture of the New Paltz community, an inexplicable light switch in the new apartment that definitely turns something on but you can't quite say what. You flick it whenever you get home and inexplicably feel a sort of relief, promising yourself that you'll figure out the wiring one of these days, but not today. Today, you are a bit too busy and this curious switch isn’t hurting anything by being a mystery.

Magic has its own weight, and that weight, the gravity of it, is pulling the fabric of reality like a bowling ball on a spandex sheet.

Angels are just beyond us. They’re creatures that biology doesn’t apply to. They don’t love humanity at all. They just love God.

Think about the whole Biblical story of Mary. She wakes up and sees something with a lion, eagle, and human face that wants to inseminate her with the Holy Seed. She’s practically a saint just for not killing herself on the spot.

We do not require man’s religion for salvation. We do not believe in anything that forces people to keep their places in this world.

I am copacetic with leaning on the sacred, but I need to make sure all the mundane bases are covered before we break out the crystals and incense for a good chant.

Take it with a whole shaker of salt, a grain won't be close to enough.

Women are seen as imperfect or unclean, because of a myth of a tempting apple, because they bleed monthly, because they lack equivalent upper body strength.

Every weekend, I fall in love again. By Sunday, the last thing I want to do is let her go, release her back into the cold water of life.

Do you know the amount of evil done by well-meaning humans? Oodles. Do you know the amount done by ill-meaning devils? Infinitesimal.

Eating should be an act of physical necessity or emotional joy, not something to alleviate boredom.

…He sounded as though he had just seen The Pokey Little Puppy meet the business end of The Little Engine That Could.

Things had improved after he was born. We both loved him with such fervor that it was impossible that some wouldn’t splash back on us.

To her, it was like asking a butterfly what it remembered about being a caterpillar. She could fly now and nothing could touch her when she left the cocoon of her body behind at night.