“This was very exciting. I'd never had two boys get into a fight over me before. The fact that one of the boys was my stepbrother, however, and held about as much romantic appeal for me as Max, the family dog, somewhat dampened my enthusiasm. And Michael wasn't much of a catch, either, when you actually thought about it, being a potential murderer and all. Oh, why did I have to have such a couple of losers fighting over me? Why couldn't Matt Damon and Ben Affleck fight over me? Now that would be truly excellent.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“Especially if he called me querida again.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“Your assignment,' he bellowed at Kelly, 'was to make a persuasive argument. Demanding to know whether detractors of your position are on crack is not arguing persuasively.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“Jake leaned on the horn, swearing loudly. Gina covered her eyes. Doc flung his arms around me, burying his face in my lap, and Dopey, to my great surprise, began to scream like a girl, very close to my ear....”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“It was also, however, a favorite place for novices to stand and wait for innocent students to slip up by talking too loudly between classes.
No novice has ever been created that could keep Gina quiet, however.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“I don't understand why you are so unhappy about it," Jesse said. He had stretched out across the tiles, contented as I'd ever seen him. "I like it much better this way."
"What way?" I groused. I couldn't get quite as comfortable. I kept finding prickly pine needles beneath my butt.
"Just the two of us," he said with a shrug. "Like it's always been.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“Observation point," he said, pointing to the wooden sign in front of us that said, OBSERVATION POINT. NO LITTERING. "A lot of kids come here on Saturday night." Micheal cleared his throat and looked at me meaningfully. "And park."
I have to say, up until that moment I really had no idea I was capable of moving so fast as I did getting out of that car. But I was unbuckled and out of that seat quicker than you could say ectoplasm.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“See, my special gift is that I'm a mediator. I help guide the tortured souls of the newly dead to their afterlife destinations-wherever that happens to be-generally by cleaning up whatever messes they left behind when the croaked.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
“Father Dominic, however is a way better mediator than I am. Well, maybe not better. But different, certainly. See, he really feels that ghosts are best handled with gentle guidance and earnest advice-same as the living. I'm more in favor of a sort of get-to-the-point approach that tends to involve my fists.”
― Meg Cabot, quote from Reunion
Meg Cabot
Born place: in Bloomington, Indiana, The United States
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“To the unspoiled, even a snikebite is a loving kiss. But to the spoiled even a loving kiss is a snake bite.”
― Mikhail Naimy, quote from The Book of Mirdad: The Strange Story of a Monastery Which Was Once Called the Ark
“James and Joseph held each other by the hand”
― quote from Little Pilgrim's Progress: From John Bunyan's Classic
“Propaganda is as powerful as heroin; it surreptitiously dissolves all capacity to think.”
― Gil Courtemanche, quote from A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali
“to read is to surrender oneself to an endless displacement of curiosity and desire from one sentence to another, from one action to another, from one level of a text to another. The text unveils itself before us, but never allows itself to be possessed; and instead of trying to possess it we should take pleasure in its teasing”
― David Lodge, quote from Small World
“We come into contact with people only with our exteriors—physically and externally; yet each of us walks about with a great wealth of interior life, a private and secret self. We are, in reality, somewhat split in two, the self and the body; the one hidden, the other open. The child learns very quickly to cultivate this private self
because it puts a barrier between him and the demands of the world. He learns he can keep secrets—at first an excruciating, intolerable burden: it seems that the outer world has every right to penetrate into his self and that the parents could automatically do so if they wished—they always seem to know just what he is thinking and feeling. But then he discovers that he can lie and not be found out: it is a
great and liberating moment, this anxious first lie—it represents the staking out of his claim to an integral inner self, free from the prying eyes of the world. By the time we grow up we become masters at dissimulation, at cultivating a self that the world cannot probe. But we pay a price. After years of turning people away,
of protecting our inner self, of cultivating it by living in a different world, of furnishing this world with our fantasies and dreams—we find that we are hopelessly separated from everyone else. We have become victims of our own art. We touch people on the outsides of their bodies, and they us, but we cannot get at their insides and cannot reveal our insides to them. This is one of the great tragedies of our interiority—it is utterly personal and unrevealable. Often we want to say something unusually intimate to a spouse, a parent, a friend, communicate
something of how we are really feeling about a sunset, who we really feel we are—only to fall strangely and miserably flat. Once in a great while we succeed, sometimes more with one person, less or never with others. But the occasional breakthrough only proves the rule. You reach out with a disclosure, fail, and fall back bitterly into yourself. We emit huge globs of love to our parents and spouses, and the glob slithers away in exchanges of words that are somehow beside the point of what we are trying to say. People seem to keep bumping up against each other with their exteriors and falling away from each other. The cartoonist Jules Feiffer is the modern master of this aspect of the human tragedy. Take even the sexual act—the most intimate merger given to organisms. For most people, even for their entire lives, it is simply a joining of exteriors. The insides melt only in the moment of orgasm, but even this is brief, and a melting is not a communication. It is a physical overcoming of separateness, not a symbolic revelation and justification of one’s interior. Many people pursue sex precisely because it is a mystique of the overcoming of the separateness of the inner world; and they go from one partner to another because they can never quite achieve “it.” So the endless interrogations: “What are you thinking about right now—me? Do you feel what I feel? Do you love me?”
― Ernest Becker, quote from The Birth and Death of Meaning: An Interdisciplinary Perspective on the Problem of Man
Twisted Perfection
The Body
Losing It
The Clown
The Lover
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