Did He Really Say That Quotes

Never trust something that bleeds for seven days and doesn't die ~ Linda Kage

I have never in my life encountered a religion as oppressive, cold, and stiff as Progressivism. I've never known a faith more eager to burn heretics at the stake. Even a fundamentalist Iranian Muslim would flinch if he came face to face with a western liberal's rigid dogmatism. I imagine that even a Saudi Arabian Islamic cleric would take one look at how American left wingers react when anyone deviates ever so slightly from their established orthodoxy, and say to himself, 'man, these people REALLY need to chill. ~ Matt Walsh

You'll never raise that one,' they told her. 'Her color ain't good. If the good Lord takes her, it will be for the best.'...
Don't say that,' Katie held her baby tightly. 'It's not better to die. Who wants to die? Everything struggles to live. Look at that tree growing up there out of that grating. It gets no sun, and water only when it rains. It's grwoing out of sour earth. And it's strong because its hard struggle to live is making it strong. My children will be strong that way...If there was only one tree like that in the world, you would think it was beautiful...But because there are so many, you just can't see how beautiful it really is. Look at those children...You could take any one of them and wash him good and dress him up and sit him in a fine house and you would think he was beautiful.'
You've got fine ideas but a very sick baby, Katie,' they told her.
This baby will live,' said Katie fiercely. 'I'll make it live.'
And Francie lived, choking and whimpering her way through that first year. ~ Betty Smith

You see, Jude, in life, sometimes nice things happen to good people. You don't need to worry - they don't happen as often as they should. But when they do, it's up to the good people to just say 'thank you,' and move on, and maybe consider that the person who's doing the nice thing gets a bang out of it as well, and really isn't in the mood to hear all the reasons that the person for whom he's done the nice thing doesn't think he deserves it or isn't worthy of it. ~ Hanya Yanagihara

What would be the natural thing? A man goes to college. He works as he wants to work, he plays as he wants to play, he exercises for the fun of the game, he makes friends where he wants to make them, he is held in by no fear of criticism above, for the class ahead of him has nothing to do with his standing in his own class. Everything he does has the one vital quality: it is spontaneous. That is the flame of youth itself. Now, what really exists?"

"...I say our colleges to-day are business colleges - Yale more so, perhaps, because it is more sensitively American. Let's take up any side of our life here. Begin with athletics. What has become of the natural, spontaneous joy of contest? Instead you have one of the most perfectly organized business systems for achieving a required result - success. Football is driving, slavish work; there isn't one man in twenty who gets any real pleasure out of it. Professional baseball is not more rigorously disciplined and driven than our 'amateur' teams. Add the crew and the track. Play, the fun of the thing itself, doesn't exist; and why? Because we have made a business out of it all, and the college is scoured for material, just as drummers are sent out to bring in business.

"Take another case. A man has a knack at the banjo or guitar, or has a good voice. What is the spontaneous thing? To meet with other kindred spirits in informal gatherings in one another's rooms or at the fence, according to the whim of the moment. ~ Owen Johnson

You'll be seeing him tomorrow night, anyway."

"I am?" Hyacinth asked, at precisely the moment Mr. St. Clair said, "She will?"

"You're accompanying me to the Pleinsworth poetry reading," Lady D told her grandson. "Or have you forgotten?"

Hyacinth sat back, enjoying the sight of Gareth St. Clair's mouth opening and closing in obvious distress. He looked a bit like a fish, she decided. A fish with the features of a Greek god, but still, a fish.

"I really…" he said. "That is to say, I can't - "

"You can, and you will be there," Lady D said. "You promised."

He regarded her with a stern expression. "I cannot imagine - "

"Well, if you didn't promise, you should have done, and if you love me…"

Hyacinth coughed to cover her laugh, then tried not to smirk when Mr. St. Clair shot a dirty look in her direction.

"When I die," he said, "surely my epitaph will read, 'He loved his grandmother when no one else would.'"

"And what's wrong with that?" Lady Danbury asked. ~ Julia Quinn

All through time in Apple products, even from our very first ones, that's how he [ Steve Jobs] looked at the world, that you don't really want a piece of technology, a certain type of chip. What you want is a solution to a problem in life, some cause, some issue that you want in your life that'll help you. And it's how do you make that almost one step - say it and it happens. ~ Steve Wozniak

But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good. ~ Oscar Wilde

A man can be 43, and people will say, 'Oh, he's a cool bachelor, and he just hasn't settled down,' but with a woman, it's, 'Oh, she must have really wanted to get married, but she didn't.' I honestly think that attitude is a little bit sexist. ~ Heather Graham

Oddly enough, it was he who had introduced the twins to Kathakali ... He is searching for the beast that lives within him, Comrade Pillai had told them - frightened, wide-eyed children - when the ordinarily good natured Bhima began to bay and snarl.
Which beast in particular, Comrade Pillai didn't say. Searching for the Man who lives in him was perhaps what he really meant, because certainly no beast has essayed the boundless, infinitely inventive art of human hatred. No beast can match its range and power. ~ Arundhati Roy

It shouldn't make a difference to me, I suppose,but it does. I've grown to trust you, and I'd hate to think that I've been wrong about you."
"Well,it's real nice to hear you like me, Freckles," he teased. "I kind of like you,too." He wiggled his eyebrows as he had earlier.
Willow laughed and leaned over to swat at him but missed. "You know, I really don't have freckles. Why don't you call me Williw like everyone else does?"
"Maybe, because everyone else does." He shrugged. "Freckles is mine. My special name for you, that is. And you do have freckles, cute little ginger-colored freckles, all-l-l aross the bridge of your nose."
"I don't!" Her mouth twisted in annoyance.
"Tell you what, we'll race on it. You win-you don't have freckles. I win-you do have freckles."
Knowing her only chance to beat his big stallion was to get a head start, Willow didn't waste time agreeing to ny terms. She dug her heels into Sugar's sides and tore off across the desert.
"Hey!" Rider called, laughing and spurring Sultan into a run. "You're supposed to wait till I say go."
Her laugh drifted back on the wind.
"Come on,Sultan. Let's show Miss Freckle Britches who she's dealing with."
The spirited stallion's legs stretched out ith effortless grace, his body lowering in a ground-eating pace, and Willow's little mare was no match for the big stallion.
"See you back at the ranch, Freckles," Rider laughingly taunted as he rode past. ~ Charlotte McPherren

Trust me. There were tons of options."
I rubbed my eyes with both hands. "You have my name on your shoulder. I don't even know what I should do with this. If someone told me that a guy that they'd just met a few weeks ago, had their name drawn permanently on them, I would say run really fast and change your phone number."
"That wouldn't be good advice in my case. I run fast too." He shrugged. "I would catch you. ~ Kenya Wright

Why is it their business? They expect me to go sit at their fucking picnic - alone - and watch them with their happy fucking little families, and I'm supposed to pretend like the one person in this town I give a damn about doesn't even exist?" "Uh ... ." I couldn't really think of anything to say to that. I couldn't believe that he had said any of it and was pretty sure he wouldn't have on any normal day. But it didn't matter. He was still talking, and the pull on the back of my head had resumed. ~ Marie Sexton

That drew a mocking laugh from Lillian. "Really, someone should tell St. Vincent that he's a living cliché. He has become the embodiment of everything they say about reformed rakes. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I was always looking to be entertained. We lead such full lives and a lot of us don't lead very pleasant lives and don't like what we do ... My dad worked his whole life as a salesman and that wasn't what he really wanted to do. He looked forward to two weeks vacation every year and he used to say to me, 'Whatever you do, make sure you do something you really like so you don't just have your vacation to look forward to.' And I love movies. ~ Jerry Bruckheimer

Six months
It been six months since you passed
How long must these feelings of loss last ?
It's been six months since you died,
on the surface it appears I never really cried.
I hide away my tears, my sorrow, my fears.
They say time heals all wounds
Wounds may heal, but scars remain.
No one really sees the pain
that hides behind my eyes.
A heart of gold stopped beating
two twinkling eyes closed to rest
God broke our hearts that day to prove he only took the best
Never a day goes by that you're not in our hearts, our minds and in our souls.
We miss you dad. ~ Michael Tianias

You look hot," he blurted. Shit. Why had he said that? Meg turned red as a strawberry, pulled her robe tighter around her neck, and tugged the belt tight. "Warm," he rushed to say. "You know, flushed - like, from your bath." For someone who was usually Mr. Rico Suave, he was really bumbling everything. He swept his gaze up and down her magnificent body. "I'm just sad your ass is covered." Fuck, what was he doing? He tripped over his words to cover. "I mean, glad. Really glad. After the rip and everything." Sweat rolled down his back. Maybe he needed to take his own temp. Because he really wasn't acting like himself. ~ Miranda Liasson

You saw a ghost, didn't you?" he said.
To my relief, I managed to laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but
there's no such thing as ghosts."
Huh."
His gaze traveled around the laundry room, like a cop searching
for an escaped convict. When he turned that
piercing look on me, its intensity sucked the backbone out of me.
What do you see, Chloe?"
I -I-I don't s-s-s-"
Slow down." He snapped the words, impatient. "What do they
look like? Do they talk to you?"
You really want to know?"
Yeah."
I chewed my lip, then lifted onto my tiptoes. He bent to listen.
They wear white sheets with big eye holes. And they say 'Boo!'" I
glowered up at him. "Now get out of my
way."
I expected him tosneer. Cross his arms and say, Make me, little girl.His lips twitched and I steeled myself, then I realized he was smiling.Laughing at me.
He stepped aside. I swept past him to the stairs. ~ Kelley Armstrong

I think Robert F. Kennedy really, finally, cared; he realized that all of the rhetoric had to be put down into some form of action. That's perhaps the reason they killed him. They don't care what you say, you can say as much as you want to, provided you don't do anything. If you start to do something and your shuffling raises too much dust, they will disestablish you. That's what happened to Martin Luther King. ~ Marlon Brando

So while the world thinks of you as a real-life Bruce Wayne with hundreds of millions in the bank and models draped across your arm, you're really Batman, aligned with the Resistance, and you kidnapped me for your own good?"
"Exactly," he said.
"Isn't that what an assassin would say in such circumstances?" She batted her eyelashes. ~ Avery Flynn

Why are you making that face?" he asked suddenly.

I blinked up at him, caught off guard. I raised my eyebrows, trying to play dumb. "What face?"

It didn't work.

With a fork hanging out of his mouth, he narrowed his dark eyes just the slightest bit. "That one." He gestured toward me with his chin.

I shrugged in an 'I don't know what you're talking about' expression.

"Is there something you want to say?"

There were a hundred things I wanted to tell him on a regular basis, but I knew him too well. He didn't really care if there was something I wanted to say or not. He didn't care if my opinion was different from his or if I thought he should do something differently. He was just reminding me who the boss was.

AKA not me.

Asswipe.

"Me?" I blinked. "Nope."

He gave me a lazy glare before his eyes lowered to focus on the hand I had hidden on the other side of the kitchen island. "Then quit flipping me off. I'm not changing my mind about the signing," he said in a deceptively casual voice.

I pressed my lips together as I dropped my hand. He was a goddamn witch. I swear on my life, he was a freaking witch. A wizard. An oracle. A person with a third eye. Every single time I had ever flipped him off, he'd been aware of it. I didn't think I was that obvious about it either. ~ Mariana Zapata

I thought about you. Every day."
I froze, my hand still holding the canvas flap.
Cal's voice was slightly hoarse as he continued. "Three weeks is a long time to wonder where someone is. All that time, I thought maybe I'd done the wrong thing, telling you to find the Brannicks."
I turned around then. I wanted to make a joke, or say something sarcastic, anything that would cut the tension enveloping us. Instead, I said, "I thought about you, too."
Cal glanced up, and I met his eyes. "Cal, you…you saved my dad's life. You tried to save Archer's." My chest ached, saying that out loud, but I made myself go on. "That's so huge, I don't even know where to start. 'Thank you' doesn't really cut it, you know? And I'm not sure there's a fruit basket big enough to-"
He rose to his feet, and suddenly his arms were around me and my face was pressed against his chest. He smelled good, and familiar, and tears sprang to my eyes as I put my hands on his back and pressed him closer. He stroked my hair. "He might be okay, Sophie," Cal murmured. "The Eye could've gotten him out. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Imagination is the ability to produce new ideas without the need of time to stop and actually think about it. I'll produce elevator buttons - I bought that business from Jarod Kintz, who was only selling it, because he found a new, more profitable job – male prostitution (he's selling his grandpa's services, not his own, because his own are virtually non-existent – he's a monk now, and monks are sworn to celibacy, you know, or should, by now). Buy now - grieve later. Two 5th floor buttons for your floorless cardboard-built tree house, for the price of one, 7-story tall tree, which, for the purpose of this story we'll call Nathan. Nathan sends you its best regards and wishes you a happy, silent, well-watered-down life, which, coming from a tree isn't really that much, however, as you know - trees aren't regular customers in the land of walking and talking, and it took quite a lot of convincing to make him come over and say that. Meow. ~ Will Advise

Cal was dressed in a Hex Hall uniform. The blazer was a little tight on his broad shoulders, more so when he shrugged. "It was mine.Mrs. Casnoff brought it with her. I don't really, uh, do costumes. Figured this was a good compromise."
I'd thought no one but Archer could make that uniform look good, but Cal proved me wrong. The bright blue was nice against his tan skin and golden hair, and he looked younger. There was a dimple in his cheek as he smiled at me-something I'd never noticed before. "You make a good Hecate," he said.
I would have snorted and made a sarcastic comment, but there was something in his eyes that made me just say, "Thanks. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Pulling my hand away, he rose, slanting his head to kiss me deeply as he pushed me onto my back, with his weight draped over me. "I've never had anything that was my own," he said against my mouth. "Nothing that was ever for just me and no one else. I've never been anyone's first." He kissed me and then lifted his head. I stared into his eyes. "I've never been anyone's only."
That made my heart ache for him as I raised my hand, pressing my palm against his cheek. "You're my first," I whispered. "You're ... you're my only."
His lips parted. "You can't say that and not mean it."
I held his gaze as my chest swelled. "I mean it."
He smoothed his thumb over my lip. "I really am a lucky son of a bitch. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I hold with the old-fashioned criticism that Browning is not really a poet, that he has all the gifts but the one needful and the pearls without the string; rather one should say raw nuggets and rough diamonds. ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

Sugar," Jake said, "I've wanted you since the first time you sassed me."

"I wanted to punch you in the nose."

He laughed and kissed her forehead. "My advertising skills left something to be desired."

"You rooked three unsuspecting women."

"I know." He kissed her lips, taking his time. "I'm offering you a chance for payback."

"And that payback is sex?" He smelled awesome, like a hot, sexy man who'd been in a kitchen trying to please her. Or maybe please himself. With Jake, you never knew.

He pulled her tighter against him, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. "I'd do my damnedest to make you a happy woman the second time I sold you something."

Sugar looked into Jake's eyes. He was too hot, too sexy, almost taking her breath away. "I think your gravy's burning."

"Nice try. I turned it off." He tugged her hips against him, kissing her as if he'd never tasted anything as good as her mouth. Sugar moaned and let Jake hike her up on his waist. "If I'm moving too fast, say so. I'll back off and feed you the best shrimp and steak dinner you've ever had. Just good friends breaking bread together."

Sugar gasped as Jake sank his teeth gently into her lower lip. Heat and warmth filled her, stealing her desire to tell him no about anything. "I'm not really that hungry."

His smile turned dangerous. "I am. ~ Tina Leonard

I've always had this fantasy of being at the top of a Ferris wheel with a gorgeous guy and having him kiss me."
"Really? That's your fantasy?"
"One of them." She narrowed her eyes, but it didn't diminish their light.
"And I fit the bill?" he said, unable to stop himself from moving his stare to her mouth. Christ, he wasn't expecting her to say any of that, but now that she had, he had the urge to fulfill all her fantasies.
"You asked." She shrugged and started to turn away.
He caught her jaw and tilted it up to his. "Do you want me to kiss you?"
Long, dark eyelashes reached the arch of her brows. "We shouldn't"
"That's not what I asked."
She squirmed, her breath caught.
"Yes," she whispered. ~ Robin Bielman

I was watching Maury Povich the other day. He had these people on who say that they've had near death experiences. Do you ever notice they always say the same thing? 'I remember seeing this really bright, white light.' It's like, of course, you pinhead, it's the paramedic looking in your pupils with a penlight. ~ Carol Leifer

The moral, dear child, is that such powers are never to be considered as the main object; it ought in fact to be obvious from the start that any one's True Will must be deeper and more comprehensive than any mere technical achievement. I will go further and say that any such endeavour must be a magical mistake, like cherishing a gun or a clock or a fishing-rod for its own sake, and not for the use that one can make of it. Indeed, that remark goes to the root of the matter; for all these powers, if we understand them properly, are natural by-products of one's real Great Work. My own experience was very convincing on this point; for one power after another came popping up when it was least wanted, and I saw at once that they represented so many leaks in my boat.

And really they are quite a bit of a nuisance. Their possession is so flattering, and their seduction so subtle. One understands at once why all the first-class Teachers insist so sternly that the Siddhi (or Iddhi) must be rejected firmly by the Aspirant, if he is not to be side-tracked and ultimately lost. ~ Aleister Crowley

I have to say that Dave's Grohl amazing too. You see all these interviews with him and he seems like the coolest and nicest guy on camera, but he really is when he's off too! I was fortunate enough to know him before he was a big rock star when I put out his very first band's album. ~ Reed Mullin

I really think I shall commence chapter forty-four," he said, patting his hands together. "I shall commence, I think, with a slight exaggeration and go on from there into an outright lie. Constance, my dear?"
"Yes, Uncle Julian?"
"I am going to say that my wife was a beautiful woman. ~ Shirley Jackson

Bradford paused and his expression shadowed. He pulled her back and held her tight. Whispered, "Don't say it, okay? I know what's coming and I don't want to hear it. Not tonight. Tomorrow maybe, but not tonight."
He wasn't talking about Kate Breeden. They both knew that Munroe could only bear so much pain and loss before coming completely undone. She needed time away, time to heal, and she could only do that by returning to who she was: the lone operative, shut down and shut off.
Munroe set the glass on an end table, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. She truly loved him; always would. She smiled and fought back the sadness, glad in a way that she was spared from having to say good-bye, from uttering the words she never wanted to speak - although, in truth, there would never really be a good-bye, because if this was where home was, then like a homing pigeon she'd return, and Bradford had to know it, just as he also knew her reasons for leaving. ~ Taylor Stevens

One would think he was going to have his throat cut," said the Controller, as the door closed. "Whereas, if he had the smallest sense, he'd understand that his punishment is really a reward. He's being sent to an island. That's to say, he's being sent to a place where he'll meet the most interesting set of men and women to be found anywhere in the world. All the people who, for one reason or another, have got too self-consciously individual to fit into community-life. All the people who aren't satisfied with orthodoxy, who've got independent ideas of their own. Every one, in a word, who's any one. I almost envy you, Mr. Watson. ~ Aldous Huxley

What is the proper justification of a mathematician's life? My answers will be, for the most part, such as are expected from a mathematician: I think that it is worthwhile, that there is ample justification. But I should say at once that my defense of mathematics will be a defense of myself, and that my apology is bound to be to some extent egotistical. I should not think it worth while to apologize for my subject if I regarded myself as one of its failures. Some egotism of this sort is inevitable, and I do not feel that it really needs justification. Good work is no done by "humble" men. It is one of the first duties of a professor, for example, in any subject, to exaggerate a little both the importance of his subject and his own importance in it. A man who is always asking "Is what I do worth while?" and "Am I the right person to do it?" will always be ineffective himself and a discouragement to others. He must shut his eyes a little and think a little more of his subject and himself than they deserve. This is not too difficult: it is harder not to make his subject and himself ridiculous by shutting his eyes too tightly. ~ G.H. Hardy

I build molecules for a living. I can't begin to tell you how difficult that job is. I stand in awe of God because of what he has done through his creation. My faith has been increased through my research. Only a rookie who knows nothing about science would say science takes away from faith. If you really study science, it will bring you closer to God. ~ James Tour

The last shot wasn't bad," he said, dropping the subject of the duel. "However, the target is the twig, not the leaves. The end of the twig," he added.
"You must have missed the twig yourself," she pointed out, lifting the gun and aiming it carefully, "since it's still there."
"True, but it's shorter than it was when I started."
Elizabeth momentarily forgot what she was doing as she stared at him in disbelief and amazement. "Do you mean you've been clipping the end off it?"
"A bit at a time," he said, concentrating on her next shot.
She hit another leaf on the twig and handed the gun back to him.
"You're not bad," he complimented.
She was an outstanding shot, and his smile said he knew it as he handed her a freshly loaded gun. Elizabeth shook her head. "I'd rather see you try it."
"You doubt my word?"
"Let's merely say I'm a little skeptical."
Taking the gun, Ian raised it in a swift arc, and without pausing to aim, he fired. Two inches of twig spun away and fell to the ground. Elizabeth was so impressed she laughed aloud. "Do you know," she exclaimed with an admiring smile, "I didn't entirely believe until this moment that you really meant to shoot the tassel off Robert's boot!"
He sent her an amused glance as he reloaded and handed her the gun. "At the time I was sorely tempted to aim for something more vulnerable. ~ Judith McNaught

My father used to say that when he was growing up the water was clear and there were tons of fireflies everywhere ... He felt sorry for the kids growing up today ... But it is really beautiful ... Time will just keep on passing ... we'll get old ... and look back on the past. I hope we can always say ... how great things were. ~ Fuyumi Soryo

As usual, Junko thought about Jack London's 'To Build a Fire.' It was the story of a man traveling alone through the snowy Alaskan interior and his attempts to light a fire. He would freeze to death unless he could make it catch. The sun was going down. Junko hadn't read much fiction, but that one short story she had read again and again, ever since her teacher had assigned it as an essay topic during summer vacation of her first year in high school. The scene of the story would always come vividly to mind as she read. She could feel the man's fear and hope and despair as if they were her own; she could sense the very pounding of his heart as he hovered on the brink of death. Most important of all, though, was the fact that the man was fundamentally longing for death. She knew that for sure. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she knew it from the start. Death was really what he wanted. He knew that it was the right ending for him. And yet he had to go on fighting with all his might. He had to fight against an overwhelming adversary in order to survive. What most shook Junko was this deep-rooted contradiction.
The teacher ridiculed her view. 'Death is really what he wanted? That's a new one for me! And strange! Quite 'original,' I'd have to say.' He read her conclusion aloud before the class, and everybody laughed.
But Junko knew. All of them were wrong. Otherwise how could the ending of the story be so quiet and beautiful? ~ Haruki Murakami

We have to touch such men, not with a bargepole, but with a benediction," he said. "We have to say the word that will save them from hell. We alone are left to deliver them from despair when your human charity deserts them. Go on your own primrose path pardoning all your favourite vices and being generous to your fashionable crimes; and leave us in the darkness, vampires of the night, to console those who really need consolation; who do things really indefensible, things that neither the world nor they themselves can defend; and none but a priest will pardon. Leave us with the men who commit the mean and revolting and real crimes; mean as St. Peter when the cock crew, and yet the dawn came. ~ G.K. Chesterton

He's unshaven, so he looks a little older than twenty-five, his actual age. And his brows do this thing where they furrow hard, like he's in a bad mood. But really, he's just brooding. It's his normal expression, one that's insanely attractive in this possessive - I will protect you even if it fucking kills me - quality that I didn't think I would like until I met him. And it drew me in like this magnetic pull or a moth to a flame. All those cheesy things people say about attraction. ~ Krista Ritchie

I want to talk about faith. It's not about whether something is true, or-or-or based in fact or reality or the laws of physics or nature or even basic common sense. It's about whether or not we're dumb enough to believe in it that matters. Oh, folks, who the hell am I to say that there is no God? Who am I? Or to say that anybody's belief in the church doesn't make their life better? Maybe it does. Or that this man, Dr. Jinx - who am I to say that he can't cure diseases with his sorcery? I don't know. I say maybe he can. And I believe that maybe he can.

Ladies and gentlemen, if we believe... if we just believe... then we can do anything!

Oh, yeah, ladies and gentlemen. I feel it now! Do you feel it? Do you feel the spirit? Do you feel the invisible things around you that don't really exist? Oh, it doesn't matter! ~ Dennis Reynolds

For once, Evie didn't know what to say. She hadn't really thought of her uncle as very human. He was more like a textbook who occasionally remembered to put on a tie. But it was clear that he was, indeed, human, with a deep wound named Rotke. ~ Libba Bray

Well," he said, quite seriously, "it's this way: you work because you're afraid not to. You work becuase you have to drive yourself to such a fury to begin. That part's just plain hell! It's so hard to get started that once you do you're afraid of slipping back. You'd rather do anything than go through all that agony again--so you keep going--you keep going faster all the time--you keep going till you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. You forget to eat, to shave, to put on a clean shirt when you have one. You almost forget to sleep, and when you do try to you can't--because the avalanche has started, and it keeps going night and day. And people say: 'Why don't you stop sometime? Why don't you forget about it now and then? Why don't you take a few days off?' And you don't do it because you can't--you can't stop yourself--and even if you could you'd be afraid to because there'd be all that hell to go through getting started up again. Then people say you're a glutton for work, but it isn't so. It's laziness--just plain, damned, simple laziness, that's all...Napoleon--and--and Balzac--and Thomas Edison--these fellows who never sleep more than an hour or two at a time, and can keep going night and day--why that's not because they love to work! It's because they're really lazy--and afraid not to work because they know they're lazy! Why, hell yes!..I'll bet you anything you like if you could really find out what's going on in old Edison's mind, you'd find that he wished he could ~ Thomas Wolfe