Abbe Faria Quotes

Edmond Dantes: I don't believe in God.
Abbe Faria: That doesn't matter, He believes in you ... ~ Alexandre Dumas

You are my son Dantés! You are the child of my captivity. My priestly office condemned me to celibacy: God sent you to me both to console the man who could not be a father and the prisoner who could not be free ~ Alexandre Dumas

Abbe Faria: Here is your final lesson - do not commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence. God said, Vengeance is mine.
Edmond Dantes: I don't believe in God.
Abbe Faria: It doesn't matter. He believes in you. ~ Alexandre Dumas

I possessed nearly five thousand volumes in my library at Rome; but after reading them over many times, I found out that with a hundred and fifty well-chosen books a man possesses a complete analysis of all human knowledge, or at least all that is either useful or desirable to be acquainted with. – Abbe Faria ~ Alexandre Dumas

What about Melissa?" I ask. "She's angry at you for ending things with her. Maybe this is her way of teaching you a lesson."
"A total possibility. I'm definitely sweet and studly enough to drive a girl literally insane, wouldn't you say?" He flexes his biceps to be funny.
"Can we please try to be serious here? ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black. She has a knife, knife, knife, stuck in her back, back, back. She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe. She cannot cry, cry, cry. Thats why she begs, begs, begs. She begs to die, die ,die.. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

I'm serious," I say. "I don't want to lose him."
"Then maybe you should go away for a little bit. After all, absence makes the heart grow horny, right?"
"That's not exactly how the saying goes."
"But it should, because you know it's true. If you go away for a couple of days, Ben won't know what to do with himself."
"Maybe you're right," I say, tossing more candy corn into my mouth (therapy in a bag).
"Damn straight, I am. Now, the biggest question: Can I fit into your suitcase? Because I really don't feel like staying here by myself. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

I shake my head, knowing that if it hadn't been for me, Ben wouldn't have been there in the first place. I try to tell him that, but he swats my words away with his hand and says he wants to show me something.
"Sure," I say, wondering if he's really as nervous as he seems.
He clenches his teeth and hesitates a couple of moments; the angles of his face seem to grow sharper. Finally, he motions to the pant leg of his jeans.
There's a tear right over his thigh.
"I know you saw it in the hospital," he says, exposing the chameleon tattoo through the torn fabric. "I felt you . . . looking at it. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I did this back home, before I ever came to Freetown. Before I ever met you."
"So it's a coincidence?"
His dark gray eyes swallow mine whole. "Do you honestly believe that?"
"No," I say, listening as he proceeds to tell me that a few months before he got to town, he touched his mother's wedding band - something that reminded him of soul mates - and the image of a chameleon stuck inside his head.
"I couldn't get it out of my mind," he explains. "It was almost like the image was welded to my brain, behind my eyes, haunting me even when I tried to sleep."
"And you got the tattoo because of that?"
"Because I hoped its permanence might help me understand it more - might help me understand what it had to do with my own soul mate."
"And do you understand now?" I ask, swallowing hard.
"Yeah." He smiles. "I ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

The atmosphere is much too near for dreams. It forces us to action. It is close to us. We are in it and of it. It rouses us both to study and to do. We must know its moods and also its motive forces. ~ Cleveland Abbe

True science is never speculative; it employs hypotheses as suggesting points for inquiry, but it never adopts the hypotheses as though they were demonstrated propositions. ~ Cleveland Abbe

Further light - a whole flood of it - is thrown upon this attraction of the male in petticoats for the female, in the diary of Abbé de Choisy, one of the most brilliant men-women of history, of whom we shall hear a great deal more later. The abbé, a churchman of Paris, was a constant masquerader in female attire. He lived in the days of Louis XIV, and was a great friend of Louis' brother, also addicted to women's clothes. A young girl, Mademoiselle Charlotte, thrown much into his company, fell desperately in love with the abbe, and when the affair had progressed to liaison, the abbe asked her how she came to be won... "I stood in no need of caution as I should have with a man. I saw nothing but a beautiful woman, and why should I be forbidden to love you? What advantages a woman's dress gives you! The heart of a man is there, and and what makes a great impression upon us, and on the other hand, all the charms of the fair sex fascinate us, and prevent us from taking precautions. ~ C.J. Bulliet

How many plays have been written in France?' Candide asked the abbe.
'Five or six thousand.'
'That's a lot,' said Candide. 'How many of them are good?'
'Fifteen or sixteen,' replied the abbe.
'That's a lot,' said Martin. ~ Voltaire

Wes knocks a couple of times, but Adam doesn't answer. "Jackpot," he says, kneeling down to examine the lock. He takes the bundle of wire from his pocket and proceeds to make a key of sorts.
"You're not going to break in?" I ask.
"Well, um, yeah. Kimmie rolls her eyes, as if the answer's completely obvious.
Wes sticks his key into the lock and starts to jiggle it back and forth. A moment later, the doorknob turns.
Only, Wes isn't the one turning it.
Piper then whips the door open. "Oh, my god," she says, smacking her chest like we've scared her, too.
"We were looking for Adam." I peek past her into the apartment.
"He isn't here," she says, glaring up at Wes, no doubt annoyed that he's attempting to pick the lock.
"Would you believe that I dropped the contact?" he asks, before finally getting up.
"Not likely, since you're wearing glasses."
Kimmie bops him on the head with her Tupperware purse. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to
Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you. Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing, where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?
They had reached the end of the gallery, and with tears of shame she ran off to her own room. ~ Jane Austen

I roll the covers back up over him and take his hand, noticing how well our palms fit together and thinking back to just after the last time he saved me - when he took my hand and told me that we'd always be together.
I lower my head to his chest and continue to squeeze his palm. Tears fall onto the bedsheets, dampening the fabric just above his heart. "I'm so sorry," I tell him, over and over again.
A few moments later, there's a twitching sensation inside my hand. Ben's fingers glides over my thumb. 'Sorry for what?" he breaths. His voice is raspy and weak.
I lift my head to check his face. His eyelids flutter. The monitor starts beeping faster. And his lips struggle to move.
"Don't try to talk," I tell him, searching for the nurse's call buzzer.
"Please," he whispers, his eyes almost fully open now. "Don't let go."
"I won't," I promise, gripping his hand even harder. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

I'd like that, too, in the future. I won't resist, if you take me away, said Faria. ~ Michael Diack

Starvation!" exclaimed the abbe, springing from his seat. "Why, the vilest animals are not suffered to die by such a death as that. The very dogs that wander houseless and homeless in the streets find some pitying hand to cast them a mouthful of bread; and that a man, a Christian, should be allowed to perish of hunger in the midst of other men who call themselves Christians, is too horrible for belief. Oh, it is impossible - utterly impossible! ~ Alexandre Dumas

People are needed to take up the challenge, strong people, who proclaim the truth, throw it in people's faces, and do what they can with their own two hands. ~ Abbe Pierre

You could call him,' Wes suggests. 'Why be a spectator in the game of love? Take charge. Don't wait around and let the boy call all the shots.'
'As cheesy as all of that sounds,' Kimmie adds.
'Cheese or not,I know what I'm talking about.' He sulks. 'I've lived it. I've learned it.'
Kimmie lets out a laugh. 'With who,Romeo? That Wendy girl you paid to date you?'
'Oh, and because I don't have a dating history as big as your mouth, it doesn't quite measure up?'
'I hate to break this to you, but that isn't the only thing of yours that doesn't measure up.'
'Wouldn't you like to know?' He grins. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Aww, you know my verbal stingers are only poisoned with love ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Those seven years in the cloister were the key to my life. ~ Abbe Pierre

After Ben leaves, I head back upstairs to my room, only to find Dad in the kitchen. He has his back toward me, sneaking a bag of Bugles from one of the baskets above the cabinets.
"Caught you," I say, switching on the light, making him jump.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asks, keeping his voice low.
"Shouldn't you?" I give him a pointed look.
"Probably, but your mom actually feel asleep tonight - probably the first night all week. Meanwhile, I'm too hungry to nod off."
"So, where does that leave us?" I ask, eyeing his bag of Bugles.
"Can you be trusted?"
"That depends. Are you willing to share?" I smile. "Good hiding spot, by the way. Nobody ever uses those baskets."
"That's what you think." He gazes down the hall to make sure the coast is clear and then snags a bag of Hershey's Kisses from one of the other four overhead baskets.
We park ourselves at the kitchen island and rip both bags open. Five full minutes of lusty devouring pass before either of us speaks. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

I sit by his bed and pull the covers over him. In doing so, I accidently brush against his thigh.
And that's when I feel it.
That same electrical sensation I got the first time I touched the spot - in my room, when I begged him to stay the night. The feeling radiates up my spine and gnaws at my nerves. It's like something's there, marked on his leg.
I run my fingers over the spot - through the blanket - almost tempted to have a look. I close my eyes, trying to sense things the way he does - to get a mental picture from merely touching the area. But I can't. And I don't.
Still, I have to know if I'm right.
I peer over my shoulder toward the door, checking to see that no one's looking in. And then I roll the covers down.
Ben's wearing a hospital gown. With trembling fingers, I pull the hem and see it right away: the image of a chameleon, tattooed on his upper thigh. It's about four inches long, with green and yellow stripes.
And its tail curls into the letter C.
I feel my face furrow, wondering when he got the tattoo, and why he never told me. It wasn't so long ago that I told him the story of my name - how my mother named me after a chameleon, because chameleons have keen survival instincts. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

I'm just really glad to hear that things are going well."
"Wait, you're not getting ready to hang up on me, are you?" he asks. "We've only been talking for a couple minutes."
"Well, I don't really have much else to say."
"Are you kidding? The possibilities are endless. For starters, you could tell me that you'll call me again. Or, better yet, you could ask me out for coffee or a slice of pizza. Of course, letting me know that I can call you whenever I want is always a good possibility. Or, if you're feeling really generous, you could tell me that you miss me, too. I mean, I wouldn't even care if it was a lie. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Will you call me first thing tomorrow?"
"I must say, if I knew all this creepy stuff was going to elicit this much attention from you, I'd have gotten myself harassed weeks ago."
"Adam, I'm serious. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

But I'm not letting you off so easily. Did you hear something that I should know about?"
"No," I say, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than I ever thought possible.
"So, then, is this just an excuse you've devised to call me? Because, trust me when I say that you need no excuses. I love hearing from you. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Sounds like you've got it all planned out."
"Honey, I've got more plans than Wes has ugly shoes."
"And that's a lot." I laugh.
"It sure is," she says with a sigh. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Censors are energetic and righteous people but they just couldn't work a room like Abbe Lane. ~ Audrey Meadows

Piper reminds Adam once again about their study session later, and then, within sixty seconds, all of them are gone.
"Well, that was about as pleasant as having my ass waxed," Wes says. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

The process of my transformation came to a head with my discovery of St. Francis of Assisi during a pilgrimage I went on with a scout troop from my school. ~ Abbe Pierre

The Abbe de Saint-Pierre suggested an association of all the states of Europe to maintain perpetual peace among themselves. Is this association practicable, and supposing that it were established, would it be likely to last? ~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I shrug, suddenly remembering how Adam never called me this morning, even though he said he would. "I should probably go back to Adam's apartment to have a look at his door."
"Want some company?" Wes asks. "I can bring along my spy tool. I've got a cool UV-light device that picks up all traces of bodily fluids."
"You're kidding, right?" Kimmie asks.
"You know you want to give it a try." He winks. "I'll even let you borrow my latex gloves."
"Say no more," she jokes. "I'm in. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

The Abbe Paul looked at Agnes rather as Alain had, with respect. 'How sensible. People are desperate to probe mysteries which for the most part are best left unprobed. It is the modern curse: this demented drive to explain every blessed thing. Not everything can be explained. Nor should be, I think. ~ Salley Vickers

[in regards to Chad's Nifty Over Fifty Moustache and Beard Darkener] "'Dark Bravado Blonde, Number 143.' The name alone makes my loins all aquiver."
Amber ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

In other words, my pot doesn't work?" "It doesn't have a pulse," he says. "I have a pulse." Kimmie offers her wrist. "Wanna check? ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Ben stands just behind me, and we begin to wedge out a fresh piece of clay. I try my best to concentrate, to ignore the fact that my heart is beating at five times its normal speed. I watch his arms as he kneads the clay - almost a little too hard - and as the muscles in his forearms flex. "That's good," I say, in an effort to stay focused. I dip a sponge into a bowl of water and squeeze the droplets down over his hands to keep things moist.
After several minutes, Ben lets me take the lead. I place my palms over the clay mound and close my eyes. Meanwhile, Ben's chest grazes my shoulders, and his clay-soaked fingers stroke the length of my arms.
"You're doing great," he whispers in my ear.
We continue to sculpt for another hour, working the mound down into a flattened surface - until we have a total of four tiles.
And until I can no longer hold myself back.
I turn around to face him.
"Camelia?" He squints slightly.
I bite my lip, wishing that he could read my mind, and that he would kiss me until my lips ache. "What are you thinking?" I ask, slipping my hand inside the waistband of his jeans and pulling him closer. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

Then Dantes rose more agile and light than the kid among the myrtles and shrubs of these wild rocks, took his gun in one hand, his pickaxe in the other, and hastened towards the rock on which the marks he had noted terminated. "And now," he exclaimed, remembering the tale of the Arabian fisherman, which Faria had related to him, "now, open sesame! ~ Alexandre Dumas

One must count ones riches by the means one has to satisfy his desires. ~ Antoine Francois Prevost D'Exiles

Who do I look like, Nancy freaking Drew? ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

He'd wanted to accompany her, but both of them knew it'd be smarter for him to stay home.
In other words, neither of them trusts me.
And who can really blame them?
The last time they both went away together, a stalker broke into our house, our basement turned into a scene out of Fright Night, and I nearly gave my boyfriend a concussion. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz