“You can't do anything about the past, it's done and can't be mended. But the future is different, if you just think what you really want and reach out and take it.”
― Lesley Pearse, quote from Trust Me
“Now, tomorrow you got to put on a happy face, not for me, nor May, or anyone else, just for yourself. 'Cause that's a magic trick I learned a long time ago, if you look like you're happy, you soon get to be.”
― Lesley Pearse, quote from Trust Me
“I was too stubborn to really take on what she was saying. But we're all guilty sometimes of only listening to what we want to hear.”
― Lesley Pearse, quote from Trust Me
“So how do you know when the boy's perfect for you?' Dulcie asked
Betty gave her a tender look. 'You'll just know. That sounds vague, I know, but it's true.”
― Lesley Pearse, quote from Trust Me
“Mas aprendi que estas coisas nos são mandadas para nos pôr à prova e, com cada acontecimento triste e terrível, tornamo-nos um pouco mais fortes.”
― Lesley Pearse, quote from Trust Me
Lesley Pearse
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“Charles ... How much younger I was when I knew you," she whispered to his painted likeness. She looked down at it, trying to find the right words. "I was an impressionable girl and you, a god on a mighty charger, resplendent in officer's dress, all glitter and gold. I was so enamored of you — but I know now that we would never have been happy together. We were too much alike — both too serious, too practical, too … cautious, perhaps. You were right for me then, and I shall never, ever forget you — but it's your brother who's right for me now." She swallowed, hard. "I hope you don't mind what I have done," she added, as she gazed down into those blue, blue eyes. "But I know you wouldn't have wanted me to be unhappy." There”
― Danelle Harmon, quote from The Wild One
“I'm not going to feel guilty for wanting the things that everyone wants.”
― Carolyn Parkhurst, quote from The Dogs of Babel
“A small town is nothing but eyes and gaping maw; it pecks at its own like a flock of vicious birds.”
― Sonya Hartnett, quote from Surrender
“. . . waves of desert heat . . . I must’ve passed out, because when I woke up I was shivering and stars wheeled above a purple horizon. . . . Then the sun came up, casting long shadows. . . . I heard a vehicle coming. Something coming from far away, gradually growing louder. There was the sound of an engine, rocks under tires. . . . Finally it reached me, the door opened, and Dirk Bickle stepped out. . . .
But anyway so Bickle said, “Miracles, Luke. Miracles were once the means to convince people to abandon reason for faith. But the miracles stopped during the rise of the neocortex and its industrial revolution. Tell me, if I could show you one miracle, would you come with me and join Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
I passed out again, and came to. He was still crouching beside me. He stood up, walked over to the battered refrigerator, and opened the door. Vapor poured out and I saw it was stocked with food. Bickle hunted around a bit, found something wrapped in paper, and took a bottle of beer from the door. Then he closed the fridge, sat down on the old tire, and unwrapped what looked like a turkey sandwich.
He said, “You could explain the fridge a few ways. One, there’s some hidden outlet, probably buried in the sand, that leads to a power source far away. I figure there’d have to be at least twenty miles of cable involved before it connected to the grid. That’s a lot of extension cord. Or, this fridge has some kind of secret battery system. If the empirical details didn’t bear this out, if you thoroughly studied the refrigerator and found neither a connection to a distant power source nor a battery, you might still argue that the fridge had some super-insulation capabilities and that the food inside had been able to stay cold since it was dragged out here. But say this explanation didn’t pan out either, and you observed the fridge staying the same temperature week after week while you opened and closed it. Then you’d start to wonder if it was powered by some technology beyond your comprehension. But pretty soon you’d notice something else about this refrigerator. The fact that it never runs out of food. Then you’d start to wonder if somehow it didn’t get restocked while you slept. But you’d realize that it replenished itself all the time, not just while you were sleeping. All this time, you’d keep eating from it. It would keep you alive out here in the middle of nowhere. And because of its mystery you’d begin to hate and fear it, and yet still it would feed you. Even though you couldn’t explain it, you’d still need it. And you’d assume that you simply didn’t understand the technology, rather than ascribe to it some kind of metaphysical power. You wouldn’t place your faith in the hands of some unknowable god. You’d place it in the technology itself. Finally, in frustration, you’d come to realize you’d exhausted your rationality and the only sensible thing to do would be to praise the mystery. You’d worship its bottles of Corona and jars of pickled beets. You’d make up prayers to the meats drawer and sing about its light bulb. And you’d start to accept the mystery as the one undeniable thing about it. That, or you’d grow so frustrated you’d push it off this cliff.”
“Is Mr. Kirkpatrick real?” I asked.
After a long gulp of beer, Bickle said, “That’s the neocortex talking again.”
― Ryan Boudinot, quote from Blueprints Of The Afterlife
“So much of teaching is sharing. Learning results in sharing, sharing results in change, change is learning. The only other job with so much sharing is parenting. That's probably why the two are so often confused.”
― Esmé Raji Codell, quote from Educating Esmé: Diary of a Teacher's First Year
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