Quotes by Authors - Page 577

Stagnation is death. With love, accept and welcome changes.

If you want to make a permanent change, stop focusing on the size of your problems and start focusing on the size of you!

It’s not by accident that people talk of a state of confusion as not being able to see the wood for the trees, or of being out of the woods when some crisis is surmopunted. It is a place of loss, confusion, terror and anger, a place where you can, like Dante, find yourself going down into Hell. But if it’s any comfort, the dark wood isn’t just that. It’s also a place of opportunity and adventure. It is the place in which fortunes can be reversed, hearts mended, hopes reborn.

Once they know they've got a hold of your shame, they can shake it out and hold it up for the all world to see. And you become less than it. You become something disgusting.

You are a stupid fucking woman, Emily Colt. Just like all your kind. I know you hate Americans, but—I never said I hated Americans, Sergei spat. I said your kind. Women. It doesn’t matter to me what country you’re from. You women are fucking stupid, and I’m tired of saving you. All of you.

The whole point of my gender transition was to free myself up. If something feels good, I'm not going to stop doing it because it doesn't fit someone else's notion of what a man is. -David Harrison

Zsa Zsa Gabor when asked which of the Gabor women was the oldest said "She'll never admit it but I believe it is Mama." When men grow virtuous in their old age they only make a sacrifice to God of the devil's leavings.

I consider myself fortunate that I spent three years working at 7,775 feet before spending five years working at 13,796 feet on the summit of Mauna Kea. I can only wonder how much more severe my long term very high altitude sickness could have been without the initial adaptation to the lower altitude.

Idealistic notions that guide a younger person frequently prove unsustainable. Concluding any stage of life demands that a person rebuilds oneself after living destroys our ideological beliefs.

Never worry about a book corrupting a child. Worry if your children are not getting ideas from books.

Tyranny is Tyranny, let it come from whom it may.

[On school uniforms] Don't these schools do enough damage making all these kids think alike, now they have to make them look alike too? It's not a new idea, either. I first saw it in old newsreels from the 1930s, but it was hard to understand because the narration was in German.

I think I've found someone with who I want to spend my life with and that person...Isn't you.

If you haven’t found your calling yet, the best thing to do is get your butt off your chair, fill your life with a wide array of unusual experiences, and allow yourself to bump into what will exhilarate you.

I am reminded of the advice of my neighbor. "Never worry about your heart till it stops beating.

It's always me, isn't it? I'm not really a very nice person, but for some reason it's always me that they come to with their problems.

See, you’ve got to understand, son. There’s two types of guys in this world. There’s guys . . . who think they’re in control, and guys like us who live in the moment. Who accept life as it is.

I believe that in the battle between guns and ideas, ideas will, eventually, win. Because the ideas are invisible, and they linger, and, sometimes, they can even be true. Eppur si muove: and yet it moves.

I find my greatest strength in wanting to be strong and my greatest bravery in deciding to be brave....If there's no feeling of fear then there's no need for courage.

The most wonderful type of love, she had learned, was the kind built with care and over time, through forgiveness and understanding, compromise and compassion, trust and acceptance. It was hidden in the minutiae of every day life; it was in the traded smiles during a radio show or the peaceful lulls on an evening stroll.

- Escute mais isso. Por outro lado, forças jovens, frescas, sucumbem em vão por falta de apoio, e isso aos milhares, e isso em toda parte! Cem, mil boas ações e iniciativas que poderiam ser implementadas e reparadas com o dinheiro da velha, destinado a um mosteiro! Centenas, talvez milhares de existências encaminhadas; dezenas de famílias salvas da miséria, da desagregação, da morte, da depravação, das doenças venéreas - e tudo isso com o dinheiro dela. Mate-a e tome-lhe o dinheiro, para com sua ajuda dedicar-se depois a servir toda a humanidade e a uma causa comum: o que você acha, esse crime ínfimo não seria atenuado por milhares de boas ações? Por uma vida - milhares de vidas salvas do apodrecimento e da degeneração. Uma morte e cem vidas em troca - ora, isso é uma questão de aritimética.

I want to go after dreams that are destined to fail without diving intervention.

Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes and froze. Her expression was so open, so full of tenderness and longing as well as heat that he almost balked. This was supposed to be about closure, about having the goodbye they’d never gotten last time. How was he supposed to leave after if she gave herself to him this completely? Her hand came up to cradle the side of his face, her thumb stroking back and forth across his jaw, her touch gentle and loving. “Need you,” she murmured,It was good. Even better than he remembered. Liam buried his face in the side of her neck and sucked in a breath, struggling to hang on. Being cradled in Honor’s arms, buried to the hilt inside her while she opened her body and heart to him was the most incredible thing in the world. How the f*&^ was he going to walk away later? Without warning his eyes began to sting. As though she sensed how close he was to coming unglued, Honor murmured to him and pressed kisses to the side of his face, her hand urging his head to turn toward her. Liam shook his head, unable to bear that final level of intimacy when he knew this was their last time. Keeping his face in her neck he fought back the swell of emotion and began to move, a slow, shallow rocking motion that was more profound than words could ever be. He loved her. Would always love her, but it wasn’t enough because some things couldn’t be undone and he just couldn’t let her in the way he had before. All they had left was this bittersweet farewell, and he was going to make it memorable. .... A lump settled in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, torn between the excruciating pleasure swelling inside him and the need to see her face as he took her this last time. In the end, his heart won out. Powerless to stop himself, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Anguish sliced through his chest when he saw the tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. Don’t. Don’t cry. Shit, he didn’t want either of them to hurt anymore. He was sick of hurting. That’s why he was ending it all tonight. With a low sound of regret he covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding against hers as he took her. Honor kissed him back deep and slow...Cupping her cheek with his free hand he gave her everything he had left to give, allowing his emotional shields to drop for these final moments.She ran her fingertips up and down his back in a soothing motion, her body limp and pliant beneath his, legs still wrapped around him. And all of a sudden he felt like crying. He felt too much, was in too deep again.He didn’t know what to say to make this any easier. After what they’d just shared he was more conflicted than ever about what to do. “I’ll miss you,” she murmured, and he caught the slight catch in her voice. Ah, fu&%. He gritted his teeth. It would be so much easier if they could just hate each other. For a moment he considered saying something to make her do exactly that, but couldn’t. Even he wasn’t enough of an a**hole to end things that way. And that look on her face… Against his better judgment, Liam sat back down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. Honor went willingly into his embrace, pressing her face to his chest as she hugged him tight in return. “I’ll miss you too.” Dammit, he should never have come here tonight. “I wish it could be different, but I just… I can’t do this anymore.” I’ll always love you but I can’t afford to let you back in again. “I’m sorry.

Death belongs only to God. What right have men to lay hands on a thing so unknown?

He continued with a laugh, "And for highly motivated people, there are few more frustrating situations than realizing that the goals you've set will require a shift in the basic laws of time and space.

All happiness is in the mind.

We fell into each other’s arms and kissed like we were coming up for air after being underwater for days. The melding of our mouths was sweeter than oxygen. We took huge, deep gulps of each other as we struggled with worldly constraints like clothing and gravity, seeking to transcend it all in our coming together.

You can fall in love again with someone you're already in love with. It's like waking from a dream within a dream and finding another layer, the colors more vivid, the light more lucid, the fantasy more real. Being in love is an endless loop of waking to reverie.

Communication is the one class no one graduates from. Even the wisest man's words will be misinterpreted by a fool.

The truth is usually left for us to hunt and gather independently, if we are so inclined.

There was an electric buzzing sound that was constantly on, acting as background music like a million cicadas in the forest. A constant white noise.

You can’t selectively numb your anger, any more than you can turn off all lights in a room, and still expect to see the light.

Life has always seemed to me like a restaurant,' said Peter. 'When you’re born, you come in and sit down...''Oh, my God,' said Brenda.'...and they show you the menu,' went on Peter, frowning at Brenda. 'And it’s a swell menu. It’s got everything on it. And they tell you that you can have anything you want, the rarest and tastiest and most wonderful dishes imaginable.''Who’s they?' asked Brenda.'They is a sort of waiter-cum-proprietor,' said Peter, 'and he represents organized society in the parable.''It’s a parable, is it?''Yes. So you study the menu and you pick out the dishes that appeal to you most. Some people pick more exotic viands than others, but everybody picks out something he thinks is swell and the waiter-cum-proprietor pats him on the back and says it’s an excellent choice. And you sit back and wait to be served. That represents the period of adolescence. ... Damn it, where was I?''You were adolescent.''So you sit and wait to be served your fondly chosen dish,' resumed Peter, 'and pretty soon the waiter comes in and what does he bring you? He brings you hash! "Hey," you say, "this isn’t what I ordered." "Oh isn’t it?" says the waiter who is no longer friendly. "Well, it’s what you’re gonna get." Now this is the important part. Some people meekly eat their hash. Some drown it with catsup and try to enjoy it.''I get it,' said Brenda. 'Those are the drunks.''But there are a few who say, "Goddamn it, I didn’t order hash and I don’t want hash and I won’t eat hash." They get out of their chairs and the waiter tries to push them back, but they say, "Get out of my way, who the hell are you?" And they fight their way into the kitchen while the waiter hollers and protests and there they find mountains and mountains of hash. But they keep looking around and pretty soon in odd corners of the kitchen they find the dishes they ordered, the rare and costly viands they had their hearts set on. And they eat ’em and they enjoy ’em and then they go out of the restaurant the same as the hash eaters do, but boy, they’ve dined!'He threw down his cigarette and stamped on it. 'That’s all,' he said. 'Thank you for your attention.''Who pays the bill?' asked George with interest.'I don’t know,' said Peter irritably. 'That would complicate the parable to the point of chaos.''Who did you say the waiter was?' asked George. 'Organized society?''That’s right. A pale flabby guy with a walrus mustache.''I don’t quite see it,' said George.'I do,' said Harriet, sitting up on the day bed. 'I see it. It’s beautiful.''It isn’t so bad at that,' said Brenda.'You’re damn right it’s not.

A Vampire!" I stammered. Then I noticed her legs. Below the cheerleader skirt, her left leg was brown and shaggy with a donkey's hoof. Her right leg was shaped like a human leg was it was made of bronze. "Uhh, a vampire with-""Don't mention the legs!" Tammi snapped. "It's rude to make fun.

The brain isn't very much like a computer, although it doesn't do a bad job, considering that it's built by unskilled labor and programmed more by pure chance than anything else.

Your mind is the knife that cuts the continuum of space and time into neat slices of linear experience.

Buy or borrow self-improvement books, but don't read them. Stack them around your bedroom and use them as places to rest bowls of cookies.Watch exercise shows on television, but don't do the exercises. Practice believing that the benefit lies in imagining yourself doing the exercises.Don't power walk. Saunter slowly in the sun, eating chocolate, and carry a blanket so you can take a nap.

A high self-esteem can quickly deteriorate into egotism, arrogance, and an over-confidence that can backfire and turn people off.

There will always be someone, a friend, a relative, a co-worker even, just someone, who will be willing to try that bad thing with you. And they won’t judge you, so don’t worry about that.

If you think something’s too hard, it will be. If you think it’s just not possible or not possible for you, then you’ll probably be right. If you think it can’t be done then you’re not the person to do it. Because you’ll fail.

Heaven on earth is a function of the presence of God

So it had something to do with the sinner, and something with the judge, and the fear of not being forgiven, and the relief of being loved again.

There are these little things about you and everything that you do. The beauty of which the mere words can't cage or explain. Moments that grabs me in its arms, throws me to the sky, bangs me back on the earth and throws me into the sea. Like I am dead for a moment watching you. And the next second I am breathing heavily and trying hard to swim in the magic of you.

Even still, we run. We have not reached our average of 57.92 years without knowing that you run through it, and it hurts and you run through it some more, and if it hurts worse, you run through it even more, and when you finish, you will have broken through. In the end, when you are done, and stretching, and your heartbeat slows, and your sweat dries, if you've run through the hard part, you will remember no pain.

I lost my balance when the train pulled away, but a human crumple zone buffered my fall. We stayed like that, half fallen. Diagonal People.

Most great men and women are not perfectly rounded in their personalties but are instead people whose one driving enthusiasm is so great it makes their faults seem insignificant.

I will never to the end of my days ever begin to understand my fellow human beings.

If there’s one shade a woman of colour can’t wear it’s got to be the one everyone expects, hasn’t it?

Though I would have died rather than told anyone, I was worried my exuberant drug use had damaged my brain and my nervous system and maybe even my soul in some irreparable and perhaps not readily apparent way.

What is freedom to a nation, but freedom to the individuals in it?

Master Chekhov says Man is what he believes. From here we conclude that when Man believes in a crap, Man becomes a crap!

Positive thoughts are the birthing ground for making your dreams, goals, and desires come true.

the code of a world he'd never been invited to join.

Women are heavyweight boxers; only, they punch with words, not fists.

Inconvenience in progress, work is regretted.

Being a good parent requires being an outstanding sales person. Direct communication and motivating our children, or young adults with our ideals isn't easy. It's a lifetime job and job of a lifetime.

Success is fucking up on your own terms.

I want my mom,” a little boy cried out suddenly.Every voice fell silent. The boy had said what they were all feeling.Caine hopped down from the car and went to the boy. He knelt down and took the boy’s hands in his own. He asked the boy’s name, and reintroduced himself. “We all want our parents back,” he said gently, but loudly enough to be overheard clearly by those nearest. “We all want that. And I believe that will happen. I believe we will see all our moms and dads, and older brothers and sisters, and even our teachers again. I believe that. Do you believe it, too?”“Yes.” The little boy sobbed.Caine wrapped him in a hug and said, “Be strong. Be your mommy’s strong little boy.”“He’s good,” Astrid said. “He’s beyond good.”Then Caine stood up. People had formed a circle around him, close but respectful. “We all have to be strong. We all have to get through this. If we work together to choose good leaders and do the right thing, we will make it.”The entire crowd of kids seemed to stand a little taller. There were determined looks on faces that had been weary and frightened.Sam was mesmerized by the performance. In just a few minutes’ time, Caine had infused hope into a very frightened, dispirited bunch of kids.Astrid seemed mesmerized too, though Sam thought he detected the cool glint of skepticism in her eyes.Sam was skeptical himself. He distrusted rehearsed displays. He distrusted charm. But it was hard not to think that Caine was at least trying to reach out to the Perdido Beach kids. It was hard not to believe in him, at least a little. And if Caine really did have a plan, wouldn’t that be a good thing? No one else seemed to have a clue.

I feel obligated to tell you that adventures are, on a whole, stunningly bad ideas, best avoided at all costs.

The lively oral storytelling scene in Scots and Gaelic spills over into the majority English-speaking culture, imbuing it with a strong sense of narrative drive that is essential to the modern novel, screenplay and even non-fiction.