Bits And Bites Quotes

Lorna was quite young when her mother died, and I think she's blocked out some of the memories. I talked to her a little bit about that, but I wasn't prepared to go around and poke and hurt her. ~ Judy Davis

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh on philosophers, but they have not been very kind to me ... I have been variously called nominalist, an instrumentalist, a positivist, a realist, and several other ists. The technique seems refutation by denigration: If you can attach a label to my approach, you don't have to say what is wrong with it ... I am sure that Einstein, Heisenberg and Dirac didn't worry about whether they were realists or instrumentalists. ~ Stephen Hawking

Thoughts are no more than electrical surges in the brain. Sexual arousal is no more than a flow of chemicals to certain nerve endings. Sadness is no more than a bit of acid transfixed in the cerebellum. In short, the body is a machine, subject to the same laws of electricity and mechanics as an electron or clock. ~ Alan Lightman

Boxer and Clover would harness themselves to the cutter or the horse-rake (no bits or reins were needed in these days, of course) and tramp steadily round and round the field with a pig walking behind and calling out 'Gee up, comrade!' or 'Whoa back, comrade!' as the case might be. And every animal down to the humblest worked at turning the hay and gathering it. Even the ducks and hens toiled to and fro all day in the sun, carrying tiny wisps of hay in their beaks. In the end they finished the harvest in two days' less time than it had usually taken Jones and his men. Moreover, it was the biggest harvest that the farm had ever seen. There was no wastage whatever; the hens and ducks with their sharp eyes had gathered up the very last stalk. And not an animal on the farm had stolen so much as a mouthful. ~ George Orwell

All surgeons fear an operation can go too far, to a point where they become irretrievably lost in aatomical bits and pieces. A limit beyond which Humpty Dumpty can never be put back together - at least, not perfectly. The body can never return to its pristine, original state after we've touched it with our hands. ~ Allan Hamilton

I used to read every, well, most nights. I think reading helps me in terms of relaxing ... It helps me to get my mind off the game a little bit more and it helps me to be a little bit more focused. ~ Rio Ferdinand

Having gandchildren you see the world through much broader perspectives. And you're more aware of your actions your thoughts and how it will affect your family. And the families around your family. You have to be a lot more careful. But you also relax a little bit. Because, you know, you've done your duty. I've reproduced and my reproductions have reproduced. ~ Terrence Howard

I have dumped a girl over the phone. It's terrible, isn't it? We got into an argument during a phone call, so I basically said, 'I don't wanna be with you anymore,' and she cried. I saw her after that and it was a bit awkward. ~ Justin Bieber

She gulped her whiskey sour. The bar was hot tonight.
CJ circled back to check on them. "You ladies doing okay?"
"Define okay." Natalie's whiskey seemed to be talking. Because the whiskey was the only thing that could've put that husky, suggestive tone in her voice. Yep, that was all the whiskey.
He propped his elbows on the bar, which put his face level with hers, and fixed his undivided attention on her. There went her lady bits fanning themselves. With a few added whimpers. They remembered what his hands and body and lips felt like too.
"Content." His voice was low and raw, his gaze penetrating and unwavering. "Happy. Completely, one hundred percent satisfied."
Her mouth went dry while the rest of her went up in needy flames that made her want to scratch the all-but-gone rash he'd tended so well on Monday.
"Nope," Natalie squeaked. "Not okay then. ~ Jamie Farrell

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscient. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time ... ~ Sylvia Plath

Literature is a toil and a snare, a curse that bites deep. ~ D.H. Lawrence

The dreams continue for over a month. Each reveals a new facet of her personality. One night, she is wild and unpredictable. The next, she is shy or giggly or coy. She laughs and growls and bites and sucks. ~ Darynda Jones

Snow and soot covered the ancient tree's broken branches and seared bark. It wasn't dead, not quite yet. Here and there tiny shoots of green struggled to emerge, but they weren't doing well. The end was near.
A shadow loomed, and a creature settled into the drifts, and old, wounded thing of the skies, as near death as the tree.
Pinions drooping, it laboriously began building a nest--a place of dying. Stick by stick, it pecked among the ruined wood on the ground, piling the bits higher until it was clear that it was not a nest at all.
It was a pyre.
The bloody, dying thing settled in atop the kindling, and crooned soft music unlike anything ever heard before. A glow began to build, surrounding the beast soon in a rich purple lambience. Blue flames burst forth.
And the tree seemed to respond. Aged, ruined branches curled forward toward the heat, like an old man warming his hands. Snow shivered and fell, the green patches grew and began to fill the air with the fragrance of renewal
It was not the creature on the pyre that was reborn, and even in sleep, that surprised Gordon. The great bird was consumed, leaving only bones.
But the tree blossomed, and from its flowering branches things uncurled and drifted off into the air.
He stared in wonderment when he saw that they were balloons, airplanes, and rocket ships. Dreams.
They floated away in all directions, and the air was filled with hope. ~ David Brin

My nutritionist says, 'If you bite it, write it.' Writing down everything that you put in your mouth really helps. I don't count a damn calorie. But when I'm really trying to eat healthy, I write everything down. It really holds me accountable and puts me on a healthier path. ~ Tyra Banks

Look, every institution will make mistakes. I acknowledge we make mistakes, and they can hurt my reputation and our company's. But you also must be willing to let go a little bit, trust others, and not always be so stringent, provided you have robust controls. ~ Jamie Dimon

When you're playing a fictional character reacting to the real world, it's incredibly difficult and confusing and kind of messes with your values a bit. ~ Ed Helms

Do you think Cabel knows?"
Have you thought about asking him?"
Janie glances up to read her face. Bites her quivering lip to still it. "We're not exactly on speaking terms right now."
Captain sighs. "I gathered that." Carefully she says, "Cabel has his own demons and if he doesn't get on with killing them soon, I'm going to kick his ass ... ~ Lisa McMann

When Legion says, "for we are many," what are the many? Our modern interpretation would be that Legion has a completely fractured psyche. When the psyche fractures, it's like a pane of glass dropped on the ground; it shatters into many bits and pieces. Someone to whom this has happened is literally lost in the unconscious; that becomes their reality. ~ Adyashanti

It's a very bizarre thing to have people very concerned with your life, but I don't mind it because all that says to me is that they care about the show, and I can't ask for anything more than that. ~ Sophia Bush

If Admiral Tourville's invasion-fleet makes it across the Channel without being sunk by the Royal Navy, and if the Papist legion establishes a beachhead on English soil without being destroyed by the Army or torn to bits by an enraged Mobb of English rurals, then I shall personally carry every single one of your coins from the Tower of London to the front in my arse-hole, and Deposit them in some Place where they may be easily Picked Up. ~ Neal Stephenson

I am a socialist, a nihilist, a republican, anything that is anti-reactionary!... I want to turn everything upside down to see what lies beneath; I believe we are so webbed, so horribly regimented, that no spring-cleaning is possible, everything must be burned, blown to bits, and then we can start afresh... ~ August Strindberg

A dollar for a human bought a loaf of bread that was eaten in a few bites. The same dollar for Wee Mad Arthur bought the same-sized loaf, but it was food for a week and could then be further hollowed out and used as a bedroom. ~ Terry Pratchett

After Marcus had wiped her perspiring body with a cool, damp cloth, he dressed her in his discarded shirt, which held the scent of his skin. He brought her a plate containing a poached pear, and a glass of sweet wine, and even allowed her to feed him a few bites of the silky-soft fruit. When her appetite was sated, Lillian set aside the empty plate and spoon, and turned to snuggle against him. He rose on one elbow and looked down at her, his fingers playing idly in her hair.
"Are you sorry that I wouldn't let St. Vincent have you?"
She gave him a puzzled smile. "Why would you ask such a thing? Surely you're not having pangs of conscience."
Marcus shook his head. "I am merely wondering if you had any regrets."
Surprised and touched by his need for reassurance, Lillian toyed with the dark curls on his chest. "No," she said frankly. "He is attractive, and I do like him… but I didn't want him."
"You did consider marrying him, however."
"Well," she admitted, "it did cross my mind that I would like to be a duchess - but only to spite you."
A smile flashed across his face. He retaliated with a punishing nip at her breast, causing her to yelp. "I couldn't have borne it," he admitted, "seeing you married to anyone but me."
"I don't think Lord St. Vincent will have any difficulty finding another heiress to suit his purposes."
"Perhaps. But there aren't many women with fortunes comparable to yours… and none with your beauty."
~ Lisa Kleypas

Fiction
at least for me
requires long, relatively uninterrupted time stretches in which to bring it to fruition. I've never been a two-hour-in-the-morning writer, who could put in another six hours on Sunday afternoon. For me, a novel requires weeks of living in a largely mental and wholly internal landscape. Everything else has to be relegated to the odd hour here, the bit of time there. Sadly, however, uninterrupted time blocks are not what life doles out today to any of us with regularity. ~ Samuel R. Delany

You can't look too far ahead. Do that and you'll lose sight of what you're doing and stumble. I'm not saying you should focus solely on the details right in front of you, mind you. You've got to look ahead a bit or else you'll bump into something. You've got to conform to the proper order and at the same time keep an eye out for what's ahead. That's critical, no matter what you're doing. ~ Haruki Murakami

The tide goes out imperceptibly. The boulders show and seem to rise up and the ocean recedes leaving little pools, leaving wet weed and moss and sponge, iridescence and brown and blue and China red. On the bottoms lie the incredible refuse of the sea, shells broken and chipped and bits of skeleton, claws, the whole sea bottom a fantastic cemetery on which the living scamper and scramble. ~ John Steinbeck

Culture is just a shambling zombie that repeats what it did in life; bits of it drop off, and it doesn't appear to notice. ~ Alan Moore

Little bits of things make me do it; - perhaps a word that I said and ought not to have said ten years ago; - the most ordinary little mistakes, even my own past thoughts to myself about the merest trifles. They are always making me shiver. ~ Anthony Trollope

I like dogs better [than people]. They give you unconditional love. They either lick your face or bite you, but you always know where they're coming from. With people, you never know which ones will bite. The difference between dogs and men is that you know where dogs sleep at night. ~ Greg Louganis

And obviously, when I started out, I had a little bit more curiosity than some, and went seeking out the original artists, or in some cases searching up country music. ~ Elvis Costello

On rainy afternoons, embroidering with a group of friends on the begonia porch, she would lose the thread of the conversation and a tear of nostalgia would salt her palate when she saw the strips of damp earth and the piles of mud that the earthworms had pushed up in the garden. Those secret tastes, defeated in the past by oranges and rhubarb, broke out into an irrepressible urge when she began to weep. She went back to eating earth. The first time she did it almost out of curiosity, sure that the bad taste would be the best cure for the temptation. And, in fact, she could not bear the earth in her mouth. But she persevered, overcome by the growing anxiety, and little by little she was getting back her ancestral appetite, the taste of primary minerals, the unbridled satisfaction of what was the original food. She would put handfuls of earth in her pockets, and ate them in small bits without being seen, with a confused feeling of pleasure and rage, as she instructed her girl friends in the most difficult needlepoint and spoke about other men, who did not deserve the sacrifice of having one eat the whitewash on the walls because of them. The handfuls of earth made the only man who deserved that show of degradation less remote and more certain, as if the ground that he walked on with his fine patent leather boots in another part of the world were transmitting to her the weight and the temperature of his blood in a mineral savor that left a harsh aftertaste in her mouth and a sed ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I want to look beyond the legends, to find the real story of Scotland. And it's every bit as thrilling. ~ Neil Oliver

Power suppresses creativity and productivity; it is hazardous to the health and well-being of both the controller and the controllee. Power generates the forces that will inevitably destroy or replace it; power bites its own tail; it stifles creative dissent; it extinguishes trust, fellowship, intimacy, and love; power entraps the controller as it enslaves the controllee. ~ Thomas Gordon

]Sardis
often turning her thoughts here
]
you like a goddess
and in your song most of all she rejoiced.
But now she is conspicuous among Lydian women
as sometimes at sunset
the rosyfingered moon
surpasses all the stars. And her light
stretches over salt sea
equally and flowerdeep fields.
And the beautiful dew is poured out
and roses bloom and frail
chervil and flowering sweetclover.
But she goes back and forth remembering
gentle Atthis and in longing
she bites her tender mind ~ Sappho

During the investigation, he tried a brief defense of his medical practice on the grounds that he had once assisted a vivisectionist in Tampa, Florida; and when this failed, he settled down to sullen grumbling about the Jews, earthly vanity, and quoted bits from Ecclesiastes, Alfonso Liguori, and Pope Pius IX, in answer to any accusatory question. ~ William Gaddis