“Nemo Me Impugn Lacessit—No One Assails Me with Impunity. Or the alternative version—Do Not Fuck with Us or We Will Hurt You”
“A man without pleasure is a man without any idea what life is about”
“Tell me something, Noah. Which is more important: freedom or happiness?'
What was this, a game? But Nijinsky wasn't smiling.
'You can't be happy unless your free,' Noah said.”
“We're fighting for unhappiness?" Noah asked skeptically. "It sounds a bit crazy when you put it that way."
Nijinsky laughed, delighted. "Oh, it is." Then, serious again, he said, "We fight for the right to be what we choose,to feel what we choose. Even if what we choose seems crazy to others."
"If it's all the same to you, I'll fight for revenge," Sadie said.
Nijinsky's eyes glittered. "Oh, yes. That's fine with me.”
“Fantasies don't have to make any sense," he snapped. "That's what makes them fantasies. They aren't meant to be logical, they're meant to keep you from losing your mind or panicking or wanting to kill yourself.”
“Sadie was like that, one of those people untouched by trend or fashion, comfortable building her own world out of what she liked, from tunes and styles and reads that could be so ancient they were cobwebbed, up through to things so new they barley existed yet.”
“The clips hurt. The presence of a chainsaw was terrifying. And Noah did not want to hear about insane Nazi poets.”
“I need you both to trust me," Vincent said. "I don't mean that I would like you to trust me. I mean that I need you to trust me.”
“No, for God's sake, I'm not bloody suicidal. And I'm not proposing, either. Forget I said anything.”
“I didn't betray you. I was used. I was set up.”
“Genet raised his hand, and I squeezed my eyes shut, sure I would be receiving the worst backhanded slap of my life.
Genet froze and whimpered, but didn't back away.
"Oh, ho," said a familiar voice. "That was close !" I opened my eyes as North's free hand - the one that hadn't caught Genet's wrist - gently pulled my arm free. I pushed myself away from both of them.
"You interrupt my business ?" Genet sputtered. "Do you know what this wench just accused me of being ?"
"A filthy pig," North said good-naturedly. "But there's only one filthy pig allowed in her life, and the position's been filled.”
“God save me from another such victory.”
“Some love comes like the wind off the sea, while others grow slowly from the seeds of friendship and kindness." - Carline”
“It is too. Who’d have imagine big, bad Lucian Bane is afraid of spiders.”
“Teachers dread nothing so much as unusual characteristics in precocious boys during the initial stages of their adolescence. A certain streak of genius makes an ominous impression on them, for there exists a deep gulf between genius and the teaching profession. Anyone with a touch of genius seems to his teachers a freak from the very first. As far as teachers are concerned, they define young geniuses as those who are bad, disrespectful, smoke at fourteen, fall in love at fifteen, can be found at sixteen hanging out in bars, read forbidden books, write scandalous essays, occasionally stare down a teacher in class, are marked in the attendance book as rebels, and are budding candidates for room-arrest. A schoolmaster will prefer to have a couple of dumbheads in his class than a single genius, and if you regard it objectively, he is of course right. His task is not to produce extravagant intellects but good Latinists, arithmeticians and sober decent folk. The question of who suffers more acutely at the other's hands - the teacher at the boy's, or vice versa - who is more of a tyrant, more of a tormentor, and who profanes parts of the other's soul, student or teacher, is something you cannot examine without remembering your own youth in anger and shame. yet that s not what concerns us here. We have the consolation that among true geniuses the wounds almost always heal. As their personalities develop, they create their art in spite of school. Once dead, and enveloped by the comfortable nimbus of remoteness, they are paraded by the schoolmasters before other generations of students as showpieces and noble examples. Thus teh struggle between rule and spirit repeats itself year after year from school to school. The authorities go to infinite pains to nip the few profound or more valuable intellects in the bud. And time and again the ones who are detested by their teachers are frequently punished, the runaways and those expelled, are the ones who afterwards add to society's treasure. But some - and who knows how many? - waste away quiet obstinacy and finally go under.”
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