Anne Fortier Quotes

When the old men fight, the young people die.

It may upset my secret sisters that I say this, but between you and me, if you're so fortunate as to have captured the perfect male, peeling off that chain-mail bikini and becoming a part-time Amazon is not so bad after all.
-Author's Note, Anne Fortier

Knights don't cry."
"They certainly do," said the Comandante, taking the boy's hand, "but only when they are clean and dressed, and wearing shoes. Do you think you can wait that long?"
"I'll do my best.

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In his usual fashion, Stalin had wholly denied the defeat; by refusing to take the bodies of his soldiers back, he had left it to the Finns to bury the men sent to destroy them.

What kind of woman agrees to a blind date at the top of a tower? And what kind of man spends his nights with a helmet on his head, visor closed, communicated with people via tennis balls?

It didn't really matter that we couldn't understand each other, what mattered were those little smiles and nods that said so much more than words.

He did not speak; merely looked at her with an expression she had seen traces of before but never fully understood until that moment. It was more apology than accusation
a dark stare of acknowledgment that told her he had long since seen his own fate in her actions, and had long since ceased to hold her responsible.

I'll be back tomorrow," he said, "at nine o'clock. Don't open your door to anyone else."
"Not even my balcony door?"
"Especially not your balcony door.

Remember: women may not be too weak
To strike a blow.
-Sophocles, Electra

Romeo was cute ... "
"Cute?" Alessandro rolled his eyes. "What kind of man is cute?"
" ... and an excellent dancer ... "
"Romeo had feet of lead! He said so himself!"
" ... but most importantly," I concluded, "he had nice hands!

You were right and I was wrong. When life hurts more than death, it is not worth living.

She squared her shoulders against his charms. "It depends on who kisses me. I highly suspect a kiss from you would instantly void sixteen years of savings."
"What good are savings if you never spend them?

Neeta showed us there can be as much virtue in the things we do not do as on those we do.

death turns all men into great lovers. Would that they were equally ardent while the lady was still alive!

Within the realm of fiction, it is always tempting to set one's stories in a dystopian future, where all our misgivings about state power can be shown in full force.

She laughed out loud, a warm, knowing laughter that made me once again wonder about the secret ingredient in these women's lives. Whatever it was, I was clearly missing it. It was so much more than just self-confidence; it seemed to be the ability to love oneself, enthusiastically and unsparingly, body and soul, naturally followed by the assumption that every man on the planet is dying to get in on the act.

After the dress rehearsal that afternoon, someone had misplaced the vial of poison, and for lack of better, Romeo would have to commit suicide by eating Tic Tacs.

Men always like to blame women for everything that goes wrong. Look at Adam and Eve.

I think Shakespeare is everybody's treasure.

Careful!" warned Friar Lorenzo, trying to close the lid. "You know not what infection those lips carry!

Verona is a very beautiful city, but Siena just never ceases to fascinate me.

I will say to you what the scientists say about the small particles in the universe: I can't show you where they are, I can only show you where they were.

Don't underestimate the power of events that happened a long time ago. That is the tragic flaw of modern man.

Even as I pursued a doctorate in the history of ideas in my native Denmark, I realized I had neither the encyclopedic training nor the passion for cool logic - not to mention the nerve - to follow in the footsteps of classical liberal philosophers and economists such as Robert Nozick, Friedrich Hayek, and Milton Friedman.

That is the lightest coffin I have ever carried," observed one of Romeo's companions. "Your [bell]ringer must have been a very slender man, Friar Lorenzo. Make sure to choose a fat one next time that he may stand more firmly in that windy bell tower.

Perhaps. But the firstborn of hope is tragedy.

I absolutely believe the past had its share of warrior women who fought like men. Whether some of these were the actual Amazons from Greek myth is another matter.

Did your patron specify a motif? Usually I do a standard Virgin Mary from the waist up, and in this case I will throw in Babe Jesus for free, since you have come all this way.

But then, as Myrina knew only too well, it is the loss of hope that kills the prey
the loss of will to keep struggling.

Yes you may come." Paris held up a hand to delay Myrina's raptures. "But this time you will not be wearing my crown. You will be my slave, and believe me I shall enjoy ordering you around.

Rule number three: Never assume.

She had died peacefully, in her sleep, after an evening of listening to all of her favorite Fred Astaire songs, one crackling record after another. Once the last chord of the last piece had died out, she had stood up and opened the French doors to the garden outside, perhaps waiting to breathe in the honeysuckle one more time.

I'm from Europe, and I was very aware that there are a lot of literature snobs - especially in Europe. As soon as something becomes a success, it has to be bad, and then they'll do everything they can to stab it to death.

Look,' I said, struggling to keep up, 'I just wanna make one thing absolutely clear. I don't believe in guns. I just want peace. Okay?'
Alessandro stopped in the middle of the corridor, took out the gun, and wrapped my hand around it before I realized what he was doing. 'Can you feel that? That's a gun. It exists. And there are a lot of people out there who do believe in it. So, excused me for taking care of them so you can have your peace.

I believe in blessings," he replied, against my temple, "I believe that for every curse, there is a blessing.

It was one of those moments that no scientist can ever reduce to numbers, try as she might.

If you must, go and frolic with a herdsman under a starry, sky, but do not attempt to share his daylight. For the sun works on men as an elixir- it blears their eyes to the worth of women and makes them dare to think they should rule over us.

A novel is, hopefully, the starting point of a conversation, one in which the author engages readers and asks that they see things from a different point of view than they might otherwise.

Why are we so eager to turn a beautiful myth into reality? I

We are the Amazons" said Myrina."We are the killers of beasts and men. Wild ourselves, we inhabit the wild places. Freedom courses in our blood, and death whispers at the tip of our arrows. We fear nothing, fear runs from us. Try to stop us, and you will feel our rage.

Juliet by Ann Fortier. The Maestro (Chapter5) ... the slight nausea he was feeling must be somewhat near what God was feeling every minute of every day. If indeed He felt anything. He was, after all, a divine being, and it was entirely conceivable that divinity was incompatible with emotion. If not, then the Maestro sincerely pitied God, for the history of mankind was nothing more than a long tale of tears.

Instead, a strange voice whispered, "How can love be a sin? If God did not want us to love, then why did he create such beauty as yours?" Giulietta gasped in surprise and fear. "Romeo?

For as long as I could remember, he had never worn a single piece of clothing that could be considered casual. Khaki shorts and golf shirts, to Umberto, were the garments of men who have no virtues left, not even shame.

In fact, I shall drink several, and perchance the wine will send me straight to Paradise that I may meet her in person and ... "
Friar Lorenzo sprung forward and hissed, for no apparent reason, "Before it throws you from grace, Messer Romeo, bridle your tongue!"
The young man grinned, " ... pay my respects.

He always says that those who control the present can rewrite the past.

The Amazons is a stupendous achievement
a long-anticipated centerpiece in the great puzzle of humankind. The story of these forbidden women, silenced for so long by the rigidity of traditional scholarship, is as exciting and surprising as a bestselling murder mystery; I simply couldn't put it down. Through scholarly brilliance and passion, Adrienne Mayor has opened the door to a forgotten world of gender equality, and her book ought to be required reading in every college history course.

By the time we left college, I had become my own image: a dandelion in the flower bed of society. Kinda cute, but still a weed.

But he is an Italian," was Umberto's sensible reply. "He doesn't care if you break some law a little bit, as long as you wear beautiful shoes. Are you wearing beautiful shoes? Are you wearing the shoes I gave you? ... principessa?"
I looked down at my flip-flops. "I guess I'm toast.

Giulietta pressed the letter against her heart. I know what you are thinking. You wish to protect me ... And you think Romeo will cause me pain. Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow. Well, perhaps you are right ... but I should rather choose to have my eyes burnt in their sockets than to have been born without.

The Salimbeni genes," I observed, rolling my eyes, "are yet again rearing their ugly head. Let me guess, if we were married, you would chain me in the dungeon every time you left the house?"
He considered it, but not for long. "I wouldn't have to. Once you get to know me, you will never want anyone else. And" - he finally put down the teaspoon - "you will forget everyone you knew before.

Who knows, maybe there never was a curse. Maybe it was just us-all of us-thinking that we deserved one.

I wish I had the power to flip my reality upside down like an hourglass, and that life wasn't a finite affair, but rather a perpetually recurring passage through a hole in time.

It is a great honor to meet you, young man. Now, here is someone very special that I want you to meet."
And she pulled one of the little girls into her lap, and said, as if she was presenting a wonder of the world, "This is Giulietta."
Romeo stuck the biscotto in his pocket. "I don't think so," he said. "She's wearing a diaper.

I did not know my soul until I saw it's reflection in your eyes.

You can put a girlfriend on a motorcycle, yes, but what about your children and your bridesmaids, and your mother-in-law?

Yself standing in front of Monticello wearing a veil and a wedding gown, hand in hand with a very muscular President Jefferson.

Ask yourself this: Who is more amateurish, more vulnerable - those who rely on machines that need to be plugged in, or logged on, or in some other way connected in order to be more than a useless slab of plastic ... or those who have learned to master life without?

Alas, the world turned out so very different from the noble battleground she had led me to expect. The stakes were puny, the people gray and gutless; my Amazon arts were futile here.

Courage has no age.

There are some things," he said softly, "that a princess has to do alone.

If you want to keep the bad guys in check, make sure the good guys are armed.

We have come here for revenge," Giulietta corrected him "and to gut that monster, Salimbeni, and string him up by his own entrails ... "
"Ahem," said Friar Lorenzo, "we will, of course, exercise Christian forgiveness - "
Giulietta nodded eagerly, hearing nothing. " ... While we feed him to his dogs, piece by piece!

Peppo!" I yelled, pulling at my cousin's suspenders. "I really don't want to be arrested, okay?"
"Don't worry!" Peppo turned a corner and accelerated as he spoke. "I go too fast for police!

Happiness is the worst threat to my business. Dreams are what it's all about. Frustrations. Fantasies that never come true.

Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow.

We have a saying in my country: If you must strike, make sure to follow the hurt with a kiss.

There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things. To indulge in one requires little but honeyed speech and a change of clothes; to obtain the other, by contrast, a man must give up his rib. In return, his woman will undo the sin of Eve, and bring him back into Paradise.

And whether or not we had now paid our dues, he was my blessing, and I was his ...

Everything has a shadow-side. In my opinion, that is what makes life interesting.

Was I insane? Maybe. But then, there are many different kinds of insanity. Aunt Rose had always taken for granted that the whole world was in a state of constantly fluctuating madness, and that a neurosis was not an illness, but a fact of life, like pimples. Some have more, some have less, but only truly abnormal people have none at all.

It is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see.

He is right. You have to feel it" - she reached out and touched a hand to my chest- "in here.

Think about it. He drinks poison. What kind of man drinks poison? She is the one who stabs herself with his dagger. The manly way.

In no other place had I ever seen female purity celebrated by a 355-foot phallic object. But maybe that was me.

If you let go of me now," I whispered, stretching against him, "it could be another six hundred years before you find me again. Are you willing to take that risk?

But are you not fond of me?" Paris looked up, his eyes full of reproach."Fond of you? Myrina you are my queen. I want you more than I want life itself.