“Now you die while we live on, and you’ve no one to blame but your selves. So do not speak of betrayal behind my back, humans. For the Great Betrayal is your shame, not mine. ~ Ayden”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“All the world seemed suddenly dream, for in what waking world would a prince deceive his own people for the benefit of a slave?
~ Ayden”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“that clever mind, that sharp tongue and droll wit. His love for Ella, manifested in sacrifice and secret smiles; his sense of honor and duty; his pride in the face of unceasing subjugation. His joy of nature, his respect for all things living, his skill with . . . well, everything.”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“Perhaps you’d care to frame me and hang me in the hall ?"
The First Wife reared back, her face twisting with confusion and scorn.
"Excuse me ?"
"You’re staring."
"I do no such thing !”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“Yet men... you strive to shape the earth in your image,forgetting that the gods have already shaped it in theirs.”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“Ayden's eyes snapped up and narrowed to slits. "This is a collar," he said flatly.
"Nay!" Freyrík said. "'Tis . . ."
"A neck belt, perhaps? To hold my shirt up?"
"A cravat," Freyrík said firmly. "Very fashionable, I assure you."
He felt the elf's stare on his throat, unyielding as a choking hand. "Yet you do not wear one.”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“Boys will be boys, and ballplayers will always be arrested adolescents at heart. The proof comes in the mid-afternoon of an early spring training day, when 40 percent of the New York Mets’ starting rotation—Mike Pelfrey and I—hop a chain-link fence to get onto a football field not far from Digital Domain. We have just returned from Dick’s Sporting Goods, where we purchased a football and a tee. We are here to kick field goals. Long field goals. A day before, we were all lying on the grass stretching and guys started talking about football and field-goal kickers, and David Wright mentioned something about the remarkable range of kickers these days. I can kick a fifty-yard field goal, Pelfrey says. You can not, Wright says. You don’t think so? You want to bet? You give me five tries and I’ll put three of them through. One hundred bucks says you can’t, David says. This is going to be the easiest money I ever make. I am Pelf’s self-appointed big brother, always looking out for him, and I don’t want him to go into this wager cold. So I suggest we get a ball and tee and do some practicing. We get back from Dick’s but find the nearby field padlocked, so of course we climb over the fence. At six feet two inches and 220 pounds, I get over without incident, but seeing Pelf hoist his big self over—all six feet seven inches and 250 pounds of him—is much more impressive. Pelf’s job is to kick and my job is to chase. He sets up at the twenty-yard line, tees up the ball, and knocks it through—kicking toe-style, like a latter-day Lou Groza. He backs up to the twenty-five and then the thirty, and boots several more from each distance. Adding the ten yards for the end zone, he’s now hit from forty yards and is finding his range. Pretty darn good. He insists he’s got another ten yards in his leg. He hits from forty-five, and by now he’s probably taken fifteen or seventeen hard kicks and reports that his right shin is getting sore. We don’t consider stopping. Pelf places the ball on the tee at the forty-yard line: a fifty-yard field goal. He takes a half dozen steps back, straight behind the tee, sprints up, and powers his toe into the ball … high … and far … and just barely over the crossbar. That’s all that is required. I thrust both my arms overhead like an NFL referee. He takes three more and converts on a second fifty-yarder. You are the man, Pelf, I say. Adam Vinatieri should worry for his job. That’s it, Pelf says. I can’t even lift my foot anymore. My shin is killing me. We hop back over the fence, Pelf trying to land as lightly as a man his size can land. His shin hurts so much he can barely put pressure on the gas pedal. He’s proven he can hit a fifty-yard field goal, but I go into big-brother mode and tell him I don’t want him kicking any more field goals or stressing his right leg any further. I convince him to drop the bet with David. The last thing you need is to start the season on the DL because you were kicking field goals, I say. Can you imagine if the papers got ahold of that one? The wager just fades away. David doesn’t mind; he gets a laugh at the story of Pelf hopping the fence and practicing, and drilling long ones.”
― quote from Wherever I Wind Up: My Quest for Truth, Authenticity and the Perfect Knuckleball
“The trick and the beauty of language is that it seems to order the whole universe, misleading us into believing that we live in sight of a rational space, a possible harmony.”
― John Burnside, quote from The Dumb House
“The landing stage stood on its high crooked stilts with only one person watching the boat disappear round the bend of the river—a girl of twelve called Ada, the wet-nurse’s eldest child. As”
― Jane Gardam, quote from Old Filth
“This papaya tastes boring. I guess I normally like papaya. But this one is sort of boring all the way through. Like eating water. Boring water. I wonder when it will be sun time. Maybe I should try a different papaya after this one. But what if the next papaya is boring, too?”
― Tui T. Sutherland, quote from Moon Rising
“You can be Han Solo," he said, kissing her throat. "And I'll be Boba Fett. I'll cross the sky for you.”
― Rainbow Rowell, quote from Eleanor and Park
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