“How about it, Skywalker? Will you still fight for me after we've been married for twenty-odd years?"
"What do you mean by 'still'? You do your own fighting. If I forget that, I'm not likely to survive until our twentieth anniversary."
Mara & Luke”
― Elaine Cunningham, quote from Dark Journey
“Is every third human in this galaxy named Solo?"
Khalee Lah”
― Elaine Cunningham, quote from Dark Journey
“Jaina never intended to marry the prince."
"I see. He's not a Jedi."
"True, but that's not the issue. I'm guessing that the only man Jaina would ever take seriously is one who can outfly her."
"There are not many who fit that description."
"Yeah, I've noticed that."
Kyp & Jag”
― Elaine Cunningham, quote from Dark Journey
“You will be sacrificed to the gods, and then I will tear out your heart with my own hands."
"If you still have your own hands, you're probably not as far up the ladder as you wanted us to think. Put someone else on -- someone with real authority and a few more replacement parts."
Tsavong Lah & Jaina”
― Elaine Cunningham, quote from Dark Journey
“What of your vows of vengeance?" "I'm not adding you to the list, if that's what you're wondering. It's over. I know what I am.”
― Elaine Cunningham, quote from Dark Journey
Elaine Cunningham
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“Uncle Joe used to spend a fair amount of time in the loony bin. My family wasn't bothered by his regular trips to and from 'the facility'--they'd shrug and say, There goes Joe, and they'd put him in the car and take him in. One day Uncle Frank...was driving Uncle Joe to the crazy place. When they got there, Joe asked Frank to drop him off at the door while Frank went and parked the car. Frank didn't think much of it, and dropped him off.
Joe went inside, smiled at the nurse, and said, 'Hi. I'm Frank Hornbacher. I'm here to drop off Joe. He likes to park the car, so I let him do that. He'll be right in.' The nurses nodded knowingly. The real Frank walked in. The nurse took his arm and guided him away, murmuring the way nurses always do, while Frank hollered in protest, insisting that he was Frank, not Joe. Joe, quite pleased with himself, gave Frank a wave and left.”
― Marya Hornbacher, quote from Madness: A Bipolar Life
“J.D. scoffed at this. “Please—as if I’m worried about anything Payton has to say. What’s she going to do, give me another one of her little pissed-off hair flips?” He flung imaginary long hair off his shoulders, exaggerating. “I’ll tell you, one of these days I’m going to grab her by that hair and . . .” He gestured as if throttling someone.
Without breaking stride, he returned Tyler’s serve. The two smashed a few back and forth, concentrating on the game when—
Is violence always part of your sexual fantasies?” Tyler interjected.
J.D. whipped around—
Sexual—?”
—and got hit smack in the face with the squash ball. He toppled back and sprawled ungracefully across the court.
Tyler stepped over and twirled his racquet. “This is nice. We should talk like this more often.”
― Julie James, quote from Practice Makes Perfect
“Lucinda might sneak from her own house at midnight to place a wager somewhere else, but she dared not touch the pack that lay in her own sideboard. She knew how passionate he had become about his 'weakness.' She dared not even ask him how it was he had reversed his opinions on the matter. But, oh, how she yearned to discuss it with him, how much she wished to deal a hand on a grey wool blanket. There would be no headaches then, only this sweet consummation of their comradeship.
But she said not a word. And although she might have her 'dainty' shoes tossed to the floor, have her bare toes quite visible through her stockings, have a draught of sherry in her hand, in short appear quite radical, she was too timid, she thought, too much a mouse, to reveal her gambler's heart to him. She did not like this mouselike quality. As usual, she found herself too careful, too held in.
Once she said: 'I wish I had ten sisters and a big kitchen to laugh in.'
Her lodger frowned and dusted his knees.
She thought: He is as near to a sister as I am likely to get, but he does not understand.
She would have had a woman friend so they could brush each other's hair, and just, please God, put aside this great clanking suit of ugly armor.
She kept her glass dreams from him, even whilst she appeared to talk about them. He was an admiring listener, but she only showed him the opaque skin of her dreams--window glass, the price of transporting it, the difficulties with builders who would not pay their bills inside six months. He imagined this was her business, and of course it was, but all the things she spoke of were a fog across its landscape which was filled with such soaring mountains she would be embarrassed to lay claim to them. Her true ambition, the one she would not confess to him, was to build something Extraordinary and Fine from glass and cast iron. A conservatory, but not a conservatory. Glass laced with steel, spun like a spider web--the idea danced around the periphery of her vision, never long enough to be clear. When she attempted to make a sketch, it became diminished, wooden, inelegant. Sometimes, in her dreams, she felt she had discovered its form, but if she had, it was like an improperly fixed photograph which fades when exposed to daylight. She was wise enough, or foolish enough, to believe this did not matter, that the form would present itself to her in the end.”
― Peter Carey, quote from Oscar and Lucinda
“Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night, Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to. Flight.”
― Gene Wolfe, quote from The Urth of the New Sun
“I dislike his talk; it goes against my grain to hear him speak so contemptuously of cobblers. They made as good soldiers as the finer folk, anyway. Adolf Bethke was a cobbler, for that matter,--and he knew a sight more about war than a good many majors. It was the man that counted with us, not his occupation.”
― Erich Maria Remarque, quote from The Road Back
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