For this too I learned, that a storyteller's tale may end, but history goes on always. These events, so distant in legend, play a part in shaping the very events we witness about us, each and every day.
You're lucky to have a friend who will kill for you." So. I once had a friend who died for me, and now one who killed for me. Why didn't I feel lucky?
...When a man first awakens, it sometimes takes several moments before he starts thinking clearly." "And here I thought it took several years, perhaps a lifetime for the average man's intellect to kick in.
She said, "You're a warrior. So how do you kill without rage?" "In compassion. Because of necessity." Hrahima set the empty water bowl back in Samarkar's hands. "The same way you carry water.
She was clothed entirely in two large swatches of leather, the leather fake and shiny in a self-mocking way, absolutely correct for 1993, the first year when mocking the mainstream had become the mainstream.
Things had gone badly at Hell House, although not quite as horribly as the '31 investigation. At least this time there were survivors, if you wanted to call being reduced to catatonia and raving lunacy 'surviving'.
Am reading the life of Mozart and cannot help thinking that one's capacity for suffering is in direct proportion to one's greatness.
Biographers rue the destruction or loss of letters; they might also curse the husband and wife who never leave each other’s side, and thus perform a kind of epistolary abortion.
Mara, that's the life I want to give you. That's what I'm offering you. I want to fill you life with color and warmth. I want to fill it with light. Give me a chance
...the reader who plucks a book from her shelf only once is as deprived as the listener who, after attending a single performance of a Beethoven symphony, never hears it again.
Will not the Senorita trust me?" Ramona smiled faintly through her tears. "Yes," she said. "I will trust you. You are Alessandro, are you not?" "Yes, Senorita," he answered, greatly surprised, "I am Alessandro.
But if there was a protocol for how to say goodbye to your newly ex-boyfriend's brother, right after you kissed him and probably sent your ex into the arms of his willing ex-girlfriend, I didn't know what it was.
Mother, before God," I say, my voice shaking with tears, "I swear that I have to believe that there is more for me in life than being wife to one man after another, and hoping not to die in childbirth!
It is a strange and wonderful and somewhat embarrassing feeling to hold someone in your arms who is trying to detach you from the earth and you aren't good enough to follow her.
Can you see the power emotion has to distort out outlook? Makes you wonder, did you have a bad day, or did you make it a bad day?
I tried to find something I already knew about life that might help me reach out and touch my brother and get him to look at me and himself.
This is a massive world, I think, and in each centimeter of it, a different drama unfolds every second of the day. But we live on as if the next moment in our lives will be no different than the last. How foolish we all are.
She wanted to ride him, to feel all that strength pulsing beneath her, but the most primitive part of her brain knew that this first time, he was going to be on top. A man like Declan was dominant to his core.
After every date we're going to end up in bed together. You might as well save on rent." Her lips curled up at the corners as she fought a smile. "That's so romantic. I don't know how to argue with that.
And so I learned what solitude really was. It was raw material - awesome, malleable,older than men or worlds or water. And it was merciless - for it let a man become precisely what he alone made of himself.
Sometimes the good guy rips out innocent people's throats. That's just something the world need to live with if it wants the good guy to keep saving the day.
