C3 A9ire Quotes

I make my way back whistling. Gerry nods towards Mrs Brady who is standing beside the trolleys.
Morning, Mrs Brady, I say cheerfully.
I push her provisions out to the car.
Things are something terrible, she says. You can't trust anybody.
No.
It's come to a sorry pass.
It has.
There's hormones in the beef and tranquillizers in the bacon. There's men with breasts and women with mickeys. All from eating meat.
Now.
I steer a path between a crowd of people while she keeps step alongside.
Can you believe it - they're feeding the pigs Valium. If you boil a bit of bacon you have to lie down afterwards. Dear oh dear.
Yes, I nod.
The thought of food makes me ill.
The pigs are getting depressed in those sheds. If they get depressed they lose weight. So they tranquillize them. Where will it end?
I don't know, Mrs Brady, I say. I begin filling the boot.
That's why I started buying lamb. Then along came Chernobyl. Now you can't even have lamb stew or you'll light up at night! I swear. And when they've left you with nothing safe to eat, next thing they come along and tell you you can't live in your own house.
I haven't heard of that one, Mrs Brady.
Listen to me. She took my elbow. It could all happen that you're in your own house and the next thing is there's radiation bubbling under the floorboards.
What?
It comes right at you through the foundations. Watch the yogurts. Did you hear of that?
Dermot Healy

Beatha
- do Mháire Mhic Amhlaoibh,
An Fál Mór, Co. Mhaigh Eo.

- Níor airigh tú caint ar an slabhcán? -
arsa Mary Nell le hiontas,
an slabhcán a bhailíodh sí ina gearrchaile di
ar charraigreacha an Fháil Mhóir,
a thugadh sí abhaile
is a ghearradh go mion, é a bhruith ainsin le deoirín uisce.
Nuair a d'fhuaraíodh sé dhéanadh sí leac -
an blas a bhíodh air leis an ngráinne salainn!

Níor bhlais Mary Nell an slabhcán le dhá scór bliain:
- Ní bhadrálann éinne thart anseo a thuilleadh leis,
Róleitheadhach atá siad.
Ach an stuif sin a bhíonns ag fear an tsiopa
I bpotaí beaga a thigeann sé, dath pinc air -
'Yoghurt?'
- Yoghurt. Yoghurt!
M'anam go liveálfainn ar an stuif sin.
M'anam go liveálfainn air. - ~ Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin

I do not have any membership with fake names. ~ Mehmet Kececi

Father said I have no sense of humor at all. He said I was unequipped to meet life because I have no sense of humor. ~ J.D. Salinger

Kurt Gödel's achievement in modern logic is singular and monumental – indeed it is more than a monument, it is a landmark which will remain visible far in space and time. ... The subject of logic has certainly completely changed its nature and possibilities with Gödel's achievement." - John von Neumann ~ John Von Neumann

If no one loved, the sun would go out. ~ Victor Hugo

A person's got to be scared all the time - of God, if there is one, and of looking like a fool if there isn't. ~ Josef Skvorecky

It would take a great deal to crush me ~ Charlotte Bronte

In a typical college romance novel, he'd be a gorgeous but troubled sex god who'd cure all my deep-seated psych issues with a good hard fuck. I'd smell his misogyny and abusive tendencies from miles off but my brain would turn to hormone soup because abs. That's the formula. Broken girl + bad boy = sexual healing. All you need to fix that tragic past is a six-pack. More problems? Add abs.
It's Magic Dick Lit. ~ Leah Raeder

I'm on my high school football team and MUST show how much I know. ~ Jimmy Breslin

I have no admiration for culture. I have no reserve knowledge, no provisional knowledge. And everything that I learn, I learn for a particular task, and once it's done, I immediately forget it, so that if ten years later, I have to get involved with something close to or directly within the same subject, I would have to start again from zero, with some few exceptions. ~ Gilles Deleuze

I was always moved when mean people were suddenly nice to me. It was a weakness that would lead me into some bad relationships later in life. ~ Heather O'Neill

And it is characteristic of the devil to be recognized too late. ~ Helene Cixous

The secret o' health, happiness and success is deep breathing, buttermilk instead o' beer, your bedroom window open, a penny a week and a mind weel disciplined. ~ Neil Munro

There's a word for this in English," he mused, still soft. "I can't recall it. I've made you a ... a fallen women. Yes?"
"Yes," I agreed, still smiling. "Thank you ever so much."
"It's been entirely my pleasure," he said in Romanian, and I turned my face into his sleeve and began to laugh. ~ Shana Abe

BRONZE UPON GOLD 　 DESTROY THE TYRANT　
EAST MEETS WEST 　 AID THE WINGED　
LEGIONS ARE REDEEMED 　 UNDER GOLDEN HILLS　
LIGHT THE DEPTHS 　 GREAT STALLION'S FOAL　
ONE AGAINST MANY 　 HARKEN THE TRUMPETS　
NEVER SPIRIT DEFEATED 　 TURN RED TIDES　
ANCIENT WORDS SPOKEN 　 ENTER STRANGER'S HOME　
SHAKING OLD FOUNDATIONS　 REGAIN LOST GLORY ~ Rick Riordan

Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words. ~ Rumi

Goes to war, still encourages the production of unwanted C3 children by exhausted mothers, and still compels married partners who hate one another to live together in the name of morality. ~ Vera Brittain

The Sword of Elendil was forged anew by Elvish smiths, and on its blade was traced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and rayed Sun, and about them was written many runes; for Aragorn son of Arathorn was going to war upon the marches of Mordor. Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it Andúril, Flame of the West. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms. The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud disparts and rolls away from heaven, not passing and leaving a sea all sapphire, but tossed buoyant before a continued, long-sounding, high-rushing moonlight tempest. The Moon reigns glorious, glad of the gale, as glad as if she gave herself to his fierce caress with love. No Endymion will watch for his goddess tonight. there are no flocks out on the mountains; and it is well, for to-night she welcomes Aeolus. ~ Charlotte Bronte

I would like to repeat that I do not fancy myself as anything special for being an anarch. My emotions are no different from those of the average man. Perhaps I have pondered this relationship a bit more carefully and am conscious of a freedom to which "basically" everybody is entitled – a freedom that more or less dicates his actions. ~ Ernst Junger

He plainly perceived this truth, the basis of his life henceforth, that so long as she should be alive, so long as he should have her with him, he should need nothing except for her, and fear nothing save on her account. ~ Victor Hugo

The first thing I see when I get home from the hospital after midnight is the glint of the stainless steel oven in the semidarkness of the kitchen. The air smells sweet and eggy. I walk to the oven and pull open the door. Six white ramekins hold six perfect-looking crème caramels, and I wonder if they're safe to eat. It's been more than three hours since I turned off the oven. I remember a Swedish chef telling me years ago when I worked as a prep cook that unrefrigerated food will keep for four hours, but he also cleaned his fingernails with the tip of his chef's knife, so who knows.
I pick up one of the dishes and sniff it. It smells fine. Without taking off my coat, I dig into a drawer for a spoon and eat the crème caramel in five seconds flat. The texture is silky and it tastes sweet and custardy, if not perfect. I pull the rest of the dishes from the oven to put in the fridge, telling myself one was enough. An extra treat at the end of a hard day. I've put three ramekins into the refrigerator when I can't stand it and dig into the second, eating more slowly this time, slipping out of my coat, savoring the custard on my tongue. Two is definitely enough, I'm thinking as I lick the inside of the cup, two is perfect. I'm picking up the remaining cup to put in the fridge but I turn instead, head for the bedroom with ramekin in hand. At least wait until you've gotten undressed and in bed, I told myself, surely you can wait. I make it as far as the doorway and I'm digging m ~ Jennie Shortridge

That's how it is, Rocamadour: in Paris we're like fungus, we grow on the railings of staircases, in dark rooms with greasy smells, where people make love all the time and then fry some eggs and put on Vivaldi records, light cigarettes ... and outside there are all sorts of things, the windows open onto the air and it all begins with a sparrow or a gutter, it rains a lot here, rocamadour, much more than in the country, and things get rusty ... we don't have many clothes, we get along with so few, a good overcoat, some shoes to keep the rain out, we're very dirty, everybody is dirty and good-looking in Paris, Rocamadour, the beds smell of night and deep sleep, dust and books underneath. ~ Julio Cortazar

Don't even think about it." Søren said as Kingsley pulled his coat and gloves off.
"I'm always thinking about it." Kingsley said. "I brought the lube."
"Kingsley, it's not even five in the morning yet."
"You beat me this early before."
"I was attempting to wake you up."
"With your alarm cock? ~ Tiffany Reisz

Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.
Mind! I don't mean to say that, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a doornail. ~ Charles Dickens

Sorrow is allowed, sorrow is advised; all we have to do is let go, all we have to do is love. ~ Gregoire Delacourt

Please give it up. Fear it no less than the sensual passion, because it, too, may take up all your time and deprive you of your health, peace of mind and happiness in life.

[Having himself spent a lifetime unsuccessfully trying to prove Euclid's postulate that parallel lines do not meet, Farkas discouraged his son János from any further attempt.] ~ Farkas Bolyai

If we are given a chance to go back to our youth, we won't go back, because we cannot give up our accumulated wisdom and we cannot give up the things that belong to our time! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

Frankly, Pedro Almodóvar's recent box office hit, Volver, is the first movie I've seen in which a young woman's retaliation against sexual violence doesn't ultimately boomerang around to destroy her ~ Sarah Stillman

Can't we make a blusterer ourselves? asked Jón Hreggviðsson. Can't we scratch that damned sign with the ax-point onto the chopping block and get a beautiful, chubby woman in here tonight, right now-or preferably three? It was no easy matter to create such a sign, because in order to do so the two men required much greater access to the animal kingdom and the forces of nature than conditions in the dungeon permitted. The sign of the Blusterer is inscribed with a raven's gall on the rust-brown inner side of a bitch's skin, and afterward blood is sprinkled over the skin - blood from a black tomcat whose neck has been cut under a full moon by an unspoiled maiden. Where'd you find an unspoiled maiden to cut a black tomcat's neck asked Jón Hreggviðsson. ~ Halldor Laxness

Ever since he'd given up money, certain people had called him a freeloader, a parasite. (As one comment-thread malapropist put it: "Do you Believe you are smooching off others?") They demanded to know what he was giving back. To which Suelo asked, Who says you need to give something back? What does a raven give? What does a barnacle give, or a coyote? In his view, every living thing gave plenty, merely by existing. But from a strictly materialistic view, his critics had an excellent point. A raven contributes nothing, except of course his own corpse, which will feed some other being. Now Suelo was dying, and he offered his body to the ravens, the coyotes, the ringtails, the mice, the ants. ~ Mark Sundeen

Most girls recently out of finishing school are like soufflés: puffed up, not very substantial inside, and prone to collapsing at the slightest provocation. ~ Gail Carriger