“You never had me, Keaton, but I always had you.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“Love is the pain of pleasure,” I forced between sniveling sobs, “and pain is the pleasure of love.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“The sad thing is, I don’t think you’ll ever know what’s true and what’s false about me.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“Wasn’t that what you were? A pampered princess who couldn’t deal with the big bad world so you ran? Princess.” “And who are you? The villain?” “I’m something much worse than the villain,” he sneered. “Something you’ll never find a definition for.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“NO SMALL act of kindness goes unremembered.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“Reven is a sadist who thinks he’s some divine being. This place is a hideaway for a very screwed up sex cult.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“I’ve got your number, princess. Fucking you, touching you—anything I do to your body that will make you come—will break you.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“My worst fear was that I would be trained for sex enslavement.”
― Courtney Lane, quote from The Sect
“Papa-bobo précipité avec inquiétude sur mon genou saignant, qui va chercher les médicaments et s'installera des heures au chevet de mes varicelle, rougeole et coqueluche pour me lire Les Quatre Filles du docteur March ou jouer au pendu. Papa-enfant, "tu es plus bête qu'elle", dit-elle. Toujours prêt à m'emmener à la foire, aux films de Fernandel, à me fabriquer une paire d'échasses et à m'initier à l'argot d'avant la guerre, pépédéristal et autres cezigue pâteux qui me ravissent. Papa indispensable pour me conduire à l'école et m'attendre midi et soir, le vélo à la main, un peu à l'écart de la cohue des mères, les jambes de son pantalon resserrées en bas par des pinces en fer. Affolé par le moindre retard. Après, quand je serai assez grande pour aller seule dans les rues, il guettera mon retour. Un père déjà vieux émerveillé d'avoir une fille. Lumière jaune fixe des souvenirs, il traverse la cour, tête baissée à cause du soleil, une corbeille sous le bras. J'ai quatre ans, il m'apprend à enfiler mon manteau en retenant les manches de mon pull-over entre mes poings pour qu'elles ne boulichonnent pas en haut des bras. Rien que des images de douceur et de sollicitude. Chefs de famille sans réplique, grandes gueules domestiques, héros de la guerre ou du travail, je vous ignore, j'ai été la fille de cet homme-là.”
― Annie Ernaux, quote from A Frozen Woman
“Her laugh, her laugh was the sound that brought him out of the darkness and into the light. Her laugh dragged him, by his damn collar, through the bullshit clouding his mind and infecting his thoughts.”
― Anna Todd, quote from After Ever Happy
“My first emotions had been those of pure melancholy and sincerest pity; but just in proportion as the forlornness of Bartleby grew and grew to my imagination, did that same melancholy merge into fear, that pity into repulsion. So true it is, and so terrible too, that up to a certain point the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections; but, in certain special cases, beyond that point it does not. They err who would assert that invariably this is owing to the inherent selfishness of the human heart. It rather proceeds from a certain hopelessness of remedying excessive and organic ill. To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain. And when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor, common sense bids the soul rid of it. What I saw that morning persuaded me that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might give alms to his body; but his body did not pain him; it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach.”
― Herman Melville, quote from Bartleby el escribiente
“Sometimes when your life seems most out of control, you know there's a direction. I don't mean you can't have free will--in fact, that can be the most important part.”
― quote from The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio: How My Mother Raised 10 Kids on 25 Words or Less
“I’ve never seen Klamm, Frieda doesn’t like me very much, as you know, and she would never have let me have a look at him; but of course they know very well what he looks like in the village, some people have seen him, they’ve all heard of him, and from these glimpses and rumours, as well as some deliberately misleading reports, a picture of Klamm has emerged that is probably generally accurate. But only generally; otherwise it varies, and perhaps it doesn’t even vary as much as Klamm’s actual appearance. He is supposed to look quite different when he arrives in the village and when he leaves, different before and after he’s been drinking beer, different when he’s awake and when he’s asleep, different when he’s alone and when he’s talking to someone – and then, as you can imagine, almost completely different up at the Castle. And even when he’s in the village there are reports of quite substantial differences, differences in his height, his shape, his weight, his beard. Fortunately, there’s one thing the descriptions agree about, his clothes – he’s always dressed the same: in a black frock coat with long tails. Of course, all these differences are due to magic, they are quite understandable because they depend on the present mood, the level of excitement, the countless degrees of hope or despair on the part of the observer, who is in any case only able to catch a momentary glimpse of Klamm. I’m telling you all this just as Barnabas has often explained it to me, and on the whole it’s reassuring as long as one’s not directly or personally involved. It doesn’t affect me, but for Barnabas it’s a matter of vital importance whether it’s really Klamm he is talking to or not.’ ‘It’s”
― Franz Kafka, quote from Slottet
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