“Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33)”
― quote from The Religion
“Sadness is never bad," said Amparo. "Sadness is the mirror of being happy”
― quote from The Religion
“Let the morrow bring on what it would, he thought, for it didn't exist. Only now could lay any claim to forever...”
― quote from The Religion
“He who has not known war has not known God.”
― quote from The Religion
“Men, and pigs, are hard on women who sacrifice their virtue, especially for love." Mattis Tannhouser”
― quote from The Religion
“In the end, every man's life is but a tale told to him that's lived it, and to him alone.”
― quote from The Religion
“That's because your new tracker couldn't find his own dick in the dark.”
― Rachel Vincent, quote from Blood Bound
“Yet men... you strive to shape the earth in your image,forgetting that the gods have already shaped it in theirs.”
― Rachel Haimowitz, quote from Counterpoint
“Love you, Chessie,” he murmured. “Ain’t never … Fuckin love you, more’n anything.”
― Stacia Kane, quote from Chasing Magic
“He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”
― James Joyce, quote from The Dead
“Hearts are like stones on an ocean beach, she says. An people are like the tides that leave permanent marks on them.”
― Loretta Ellsworth, quote from In a Heartbeat
Surrender
Blueprints Of The Af...
Educating Esmé: Diar...
Sound Bites
The Bro Code
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