“I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself. Movies show you the pink house. A good book tells you there's a pink house and lets you paint some of the finishing touches, maybe choose the roof style,park your own car out front. My imagination has always topped anything a movie could come up with. Case in point, those darned Harry Potter movies. That was so not what that part-Veela-chick, Fleur Delacour, looked like.”
“I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself.”
“Last night you said you wanted to know what to expect so you could better select your attire. I told you we were going to visit a vampire in a Goth-den tonight. Why, then, Ms. Lane, do you look like a perky rainbow?”
“Assume' makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'.”
“Barrons laughed again. "And there, my dear Fio, you make one of Womankind's greatest mistakes: Falling in love with a man's potential. We so rarely share the same view of it, and even more rarely care to achieve it. Stop pining for the man you think I could be -- and take a good, long, hard look at the one I am.”
“Sometimes, Ms. Lane," he said, "one must break with one's past to embrace one's future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.”
“He raised a brow. 'Petunia, Ms. Lane?'
I scowled. "Ass, Barrons.”
“It's what you choose to believe that makes you the person you are.”
“She understood now why her friend Elizabeth, with her near-genius, analytical mind gave wide berth to murder mysteries, psychological thrillers, and horror stories, and read only romance novels. Because, by God, when a woman picked up one of those steamy books, she had a firm guarantee that there would be a Happily-Ever-After. That though the world outside those covers could bring such sorrow and disappointment and loneliness, between those covers, the world was a splendid place to be.”
“You, Ms. Lane, are a menace to others! A walking, talking catastrophe in pink!”
“I said breathe. Not do a fish-out of-water imitation.”
“What are you" -Mac
"I don't follow" -Jericho
"You dropped 30 feet in that warehouse. You should have broken something. What are you?" -Mac
"A man with a rope." -Jericho”
“You want to believe in black and white, good and evil, heroes that are truly heroic, villains that are just plain bad, but I've learned in the past year that things are rarely so simple. The good guys can do some truly awful things, and the bad guys can sometimes surprise the heck out of you.”
“Okay, Barrons, it's time."
"I am not helping you shave your legs." he said instantly.
"Oh please. As if I'd let you.”
“Distinguish yourself [...] in an age where girls often make themselves too available to boys, by making him work a little for your attention. He'll think he's won a prize when he gets it, and he'll work that much harder to keep it. Boys turn into men and men put a premium on what's hard to get.”
“It's often only in the lies we refuse to speak that any truth can be heard at all.”
“You never knew what you could get away with until you tried.”
“Lose the pessimism, Ms. Lane. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims.”
“He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it. The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him.”
“There are really only two positions one can take toward anything in life: hope or fear. Hope strengthens, fear kills.”
“If he was winter, I was summer. If I was sunshine, he was night. A dark and stormy one.”
“Dubh is do?" I was incredulous. It was no wonder I hadn't been able to find the stupid word. "Should I be
calling pubs poos?"
"Dubh is Gaelic, Ms. Lane. Pub is not.”
“All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.”
“How will we get back up?" I worried.
"I have a different route in mind for our return trip."
"Does it involve stairs?" I asked hopefully.
"Of course not. How silly of me. And for our return adventure we will be scaling the side of Mount Everest, hiking boots to be provided by our trusty sponsor, Barrons Books and Baubles.”
“I'd never been turned on by the Ken doll—even before I looked down his pants and saw what was missing.”
“Barrons had just given me the most carnal, sexually charged hungry look I'd ever seen in my life, and I was pretty sure he didn't even know he had done it.”
“And then what? Said, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Lane, I didn't mean to wrinkle your lovely blouse. May I press that for you?' Or perhaps you gouged it with one of your pretty pink nails?"
I was really beginning to wonder what his hang-up with pink was, but I didn't resent the sarcasm in his voice.”
“There are only really two positions one can take toward anything in life: hope or fear. Hope strengthens, fear kills.”
“Born in a generation that thinks cynical and disenchanted is cool,
sometimes I'm a little off the beaten track.”
“So how long do you think it’ll be?” he says. “Before the next hurricane comes along to take you home.”
“Can I tell you my biggest fear?” I say.
“Yes. Tell me.”
“That it will be a very windless four years.”
“You are a human being now, not like them [the animals].”
“But my attention’s elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person—only belongs to him—
Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea.
My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I’m about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me—hair tangled and wet—clothes twisted and clinging—frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude’s tanned strong arms still wrapped around me.
I release myself from Jude’s grip, but it’s too late. Damen’s already seen me.
Already moved on.
Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat.
No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place.”
“Herbert George Wells, better known as H. G. Wells, was an English writer best known for such science fiction novels as The Time Machine, The War of the Worlds, The Invisible Man and The Island of Doctor Moreau. He was a prolific writer of both fiction and non-fiction, and produced works in many different genres, including contemporary novels, history, and social commentary. He was also an outspoken socialist. His later works become increasingly political and didactic, and only his early science fiction novels are widely read today. Wells, along with Hugo Gernsback and Jules Verne, is sometimes referred to as "The Father of Science Fiction". Source: Wikipedia”
“Here is my secret. It’s quite simple: One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes.”
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