Garth Stein · 304 pages
Rating: (4.9K votes)
“There is no dishonor in losing the race,” Don said. “There is only dishonor in not racing because you are afraid to lose.”
“we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.”
“Yet for every peak there is a valley.”
“the race is long—to finish first, first you must finish.”
“We had come so close to greatness. We had smelled it, and it smelled like roast pig. Everybody likes the smell of roast pig. But what is worse, smelling the roast and not feasting, or not smelling the roast at all?”
“But I totally understood that what filled us with energy could be irritating to someone else,”
“To remember is to leave the present.”
“Here’s why I will be a good person. Because I listen. I cannot speak, so I listen very well. I never interrupt, I never change the course of the conversation with a comment of my own. People, if you pay attention to them, change the direction of one another’s conversations constantly. It’s like having a passenger in your car who suddenly grabs the steering wheel and turns you down a side street. Learn to listen! I beg of you. Pretend you are a dog like me and listen to other people rather than steal their stories.”
“We are the creators of our own destiny.”
“Your car goes where your eyes go. Simply another way of saying that you make your own destiny.”
“We all play by the same rules. But some people spend more time reading those rules and figuring out how to make them work in their behalf.”
“But I wondered why they had waited for Eve’s illness to make themselves available for companionship.”
“With your mind power, your determination, your instinct, and the experience as well, you can fly very high.” —”
“We are the creators of our own destiny,”
“Knowing that another path might have been easier for him to travel, but that it couldn’t possibly have offered a more satisfying conclusion.”
“being alone is not the same as being lonely?”
“All the expressions that are possible crossed its face, as if its thoughts were wise and limitless one moment, daft and animal the next. And Liga too was pulled towards awe, that this little girl-thing gave off such an air of being entitled, and then towards pity at its abjectness and its frailty and-how soft it was, the surface of it, and so warm! She could not believe the tiny makings of its mouth, or its perfected eyelashes, its ears like uncrumpling buds, all down and tenderness. She was full of the joy of her father being gone-that she could sit like this all night if she wanted, not bothered or harangued, without a remark from any other person, and watch this creature busy with its morsel of life, its scrap of sleep, its breaths light as moth-wings lifting its narrow red chest.”
“In the nineteenth century,” he observed, “Jules Verne wrote Round the World in Eighty Days. It seemed a prodigy. Now you can get around it in four, but you do not see much of it on the way.”
“Contrary to popular belief and hope, people don't usually come running when they hear a scream. That's not how humans work. Humans look at other humans and say, 'Did you hear a scream?' because the first scream might have been you screaming inside your head, or a horse backfiring.”
“Tears glinted in her eyes. "I want no secrets between us, Silas."
"No secrets," he echoed, his mouth near the gentle curve of her ear. "Then you should know I can hardly breathe for thinking of you. You're the most maddening lass I've ever known, and every day without you near is an agony to me." Taking her face between his hands, he moved to kiss her, but the sound of approaching horses gave him pause.”
“Lord above, was there a better sight than a woman flush with passion, her skin dewy and pink, her breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts?”
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