A man who wishes to make his way in life could do no better than go through the world with a boiling tea-kettle in his hand.
You have so much love in you. Trust your firends and family. They're all you have, but they're precious, the most important part of your life.
I let out a battle cry. Sure, a lot of people might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me. It was a battle cry.
After the first establishment of identity there comes the imperative need to lose this new-found sense of separateness and to belong to something larger and more powerful than the weak, lonely self. The sense of moral isolation is intolerable to us.
The fear of blacks has become the dirty little secret of our political culture.
Love is rare, Rhys. You found it without even trying. I had that kind of love. It's a gift, a type of magic all its own.
Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnigh...
My movie is born first in my head, dies on paper; is resuscitated by the living persons and real objects I use, which are killed on film but, placed in a certain order and projected onto a screen, come to life again like flowers in water.
The city was lovely. There could be no place in the world to which he belonged so completely. That was why he'd always dreamed of leaving, and why he'd always been so afraid to go.
I tried to explain as much as I could," Poppet says. "I think I made an analogy about cake." "Well, that must have worked," Widget says. "Who doesn't like a good cake analogy?
It's not a real name," she says. "Not one that he's carried with him always. It's one he wears like his hat. So he can take it off if he wants.
I believe that words are strong, that they can overwhelm what we fear when fear seems more awful than life is good.
A sense of humor is the best indicator that you will recover; it is often the best indicator that people will love you. Sustain that and you have hope.
...I'd come home but nearly everybody does. It's the ones that don't go home that I feel sorry for, they're not happy.
Books act like a developing fluid on film. That is, they bring into consciousness what you didn’t know you knew.
I’ve never done this before. I didn’t go to human bars. Mudslides aside, I’m not much of a drinker. Club people are not my people. Now, book-club people—
I will do anything. Anything, Blaire, just to be near you. I can’t think about anything else. I can’t focus on anything. So never think you’re inconveniencing me. You need me, I’m there.
Jane Jameson." He grinned. "Like the porn star." I gaped at him. "What? No, Jameson." "Oh, not as fun," he said, making disappointed clucking noises.
What was that?" Rich combined the pain of a crooked arm with the indignity of a flicked ear. I could only hope the situation didn't escalate to the dreaded purple nurple.
—even in hardened criminals, they were just air pockets lodged under debris at the bottom of an ocean. It might take an earthquake, or you scuba diving down there, sifting through the sludge, but their natural proclivity was always to head straight...
It took me awhile to learn the rules. OK, it took the librarian in me weeks of careful obsessive research to learn the rules. There was a label maker involved. I'd rather not go into it.
