Quotes from First Night of Summer

“Life isn't just about darkness or light, rather it's about finding light within the darkness.”
― quote from First Night of Summer

“All things, even the deepest sorrow or the most profound happiness are all temporary. Hope is fuel for the soul, without hope, forward motion ceases.”
― quote from First Night of Summer

“Life is about the good and the bad. Good is easy. Bad is hard. Finding a way to make good from the bad is the secret. The few who discover the ability within themselves--nothing can stand in their way of happiness.”
― quote from First Night of Summer

“God, forgive those whose atrocities are so great-- I will not.”
― quote from First Night of Summer

“Darkness will never prevail. If you do not recognize the evil in our world, you will never stand up to it.”
― quote from First Night of Summer

Popular quotes

“- هل هيئتي هيئة قاتل؟
- بل أنت شر من ذلك.
ففكرت لحظة ثم قلت لها وقد بدا على وجهي تأثر عميق:
- نعم، ذلك كان حظي منذ نعومة أظفاري! كان جميع الناس يقرأون في وجهي علامات غرائز شريرة أنا منها برئ، وما زالوا يفترضونها فيّ، حتى نبتت وتأصلت. كنت خجولًا، فاتهموني بالمكر، فأصبحت كتومًا. وكنت أحس بالخير والشر إحساسًا عميقًا، ولكن أحدًا لم يعطف عليّ، بل كانوا جميعًا يؤذونني، فأصبحت حقودًا أحب الانتقام. وكنت حزين النفس، وكان الأطفال الآخرين هدّارين، وكنت أشعر أنني فوقهم، فقيل لي أنني دونهم، فأصبحت حسودًا؛ وكنت مهيأ لأن أحب جميع الناس، فلم يفهمني أحد، فتعلمت الكره. لم يكن شبابي الخالي من الفرح إلا صراعًا مع الناس ومع نفسي. خوفًا من الهزء، دفنت أنبل عواطفي في قلبي، فماتت هنالك. وكنت أحب أن أقول الحقيقة، فلم يصدقني أحد، فأخذت أكذب. وقد تعلمت أن أسبر أغوار الناس، وأن أدرك الدوافع التي تحركهم، فأصبحت بارعًا في فن الحياة، ولاحظت أن غيري ممن لا يملكون هذا الفن كانوا سعداء، ينعمون، من غير جهد، بهذه الخيرات التي كنت أجهد للحصول عليها بلا كلال؛ فولد اليأس في قلبي، لا ذلك اليأس الذي تذهب به رصاصة من مسدس، بل هذا اليأس البارد، العاجز، الذي يختفي وراء سلوك لطيف، وابتسامة طيبة. أصبحت روحي مشلولة. ذهب نصف نفسي: جفّ، تبخّر، مات. قطعته ورميته بعيدًا عني. بينما كان النصف الآخر يتحرك ويتمنى أن يخدم جميع الناس.”
― Mikhail Lermontov, quote from A Hero of Our Time

“Crying's okay while it lasts, but you can only do it for so long. And it's weird to do it when you apparently can't make tears anymore (did this mean I wouldn't pee or sweat, either?). Anyway, eventually you're done, and you have to figure out what to do next.”
― MaryJanice Davidson, quote from Undead and Unwed

“FACT The Native Americans invented the game lacrosse.”
― Lynne Reid Banks, quote from The Indian in the Cupboard

“Liz, I like you very much," he says.
"Oh," she says, "I like you very much, too!"
Owen is not sure if she means "O" for Owen, or just plan "Oh." He is not sure what difference it would make in either case. He feels the needs to clarify. "When I said 'I like you very much,' I actually meant 'I love you.'"
"O," she says, "I actually meant the same thing." She closes the car door behind her.
"Well," he says to himself, driving back to his apartment, "isn't that something?”
― Gabrielle Zevin, quote from Elsewhere

“Roscoe had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. He awoke to find persistent itching on his stomach. He scratched it through his T-shirt.
He went back to sleep. But dreams kept him from sleeping soundly. That and the itching.
He woke again and felt the itchy spot. There was a lump there. Like a swelling. And when he held still and pressed his fingers against the spot he could feel something moving under the skin.
The small room was suddenly very cold. Roscoe shivered.
He went to the window hoping for light. There was a moon but the light was faint. Roscoe pulled his shirt over his head. He looked down at the spot on his stomach.
It was moving. The flesh itself. He could feel it under his fingertips. Like something poking back at him. But he couldn’t feel it from the inside, couldn’t feel it in his stomach. And he realized that his entire body was numb. He could feel with his fingertips but not the skin of his stomach—
The skin split!
“Ahhhh!”
He was touching it as it split, and he shrieked in terror and something pushed its way out through a bloodless hole.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, no no no no!”
Roscoe screamed and leaped for the door. His hand clawed at the knob as he babbled and wept and the door was locked, locked, oh, God, no, they had locked him in.
He banged at the door, but it was the middle of the night. Who would hear him in the empty town hall?
“Hey! Hey! Is anyone there? Help me. Help me. Please, please, someone help me!”
He banged and the thing in his belly stuck out half an inch. He was scared to look at it. But he did and he screamed again because it was a mouth now, a gnashing insect mouth full of parts like no normal mouth. Hooked, wicked mandibles clicked. It was inside him, chewing its way out.
Hatching from him.
“Help me, help me, don’t leave me here like this!”
But who would hear him? Sinder? No. Not anymore. That was over. All over. And he was alone and friendless. No one even to hear as he screamed and begged.
The window. He grabbed the pillow from his bed and pushed it against the glass and then punched it hard. The pane shattered. He took off his shoe and smashed at the starred glass until most of it fell tinkling to the street below.
Then he screamed for help. Screamed into the Perdido Beach night air.
No answer.
“Help me! Please, please, oh, God, please help me! You can’t just leave me locked up!”
But still, no answer.
Fear took hold of him, deep crazy-making fear.
No. No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone, he hadn’t done anything awful. Why? Why was this happening to him?
Roscoe fell to his knees and begged God. God, please, no, no, no, I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t brave or strong but I wasn’t bad, either. Not like this, please, God, no no no, not like this.
Roscoe felt an itching in the middle of his back.
He sat down and cried.”
― Michael Grant, quote from Plague

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