Excerpt From Ginger Quotes

I used to arch my back for boys who couldn't even remember the color of my bedsheets.
But you, however, made me turnover the arch on my mouth. ~ Sade Andria Zabala

Whether it was a song, a person, or a story, there was a lot you couldn't know from just an excerpt, a glance, or part of a chorus. ~ Sarah Dessen

As women, we'd be exponentially lighter if we'd sort through some of our emotional clutter... We need to dispose of the crud that we no longer need. Excerpt from essay #3 "What's in my Purse? ~ Dianne Bright

Come, let us pity those who are better off than we are.
Come, my friend, and remember
that the rich have butlers and no friends,
And we have friends and no butlers.
(excerpt from 'The Garrett') ~ Ezra Pound

Not to worry, Phillip," Father O'Toole said. "I was just inquiring as to what authority they - " He stopped abruptly, jumping forward as the wall phone came unhinged behind him, dangling by a corner screw.
"Huh," Gil pondered. "Look at that."
"What happened?" Father O'Toole asked.
"The phone fell," Gil answered.
"Well, naturally! I'm not blind, young man. I'm asking how the phone fell!"
"I blame gravity," Gil offered. (Excerpt from Whisper of Light) ~ Jennifer DeLucy

You are dealing with national security. Anything labeled a national security issie is taken out from the system. There is no due process, no lawyers. They may do with us what they wish. Fear is a government's greatest weapon. With it, they can convince a people that they need to abandon their freedom. In exchange, they get safety. Of course, you just trade one monster for another, but by the time the people realize this, it is too late.
Excerpt from Superhero. ~ Victor Methos

I stayed at 'Cosmo' well beyond my internship, moving up the ranks over some 15 years to become books editor, then brand director, then editor-at-large - editing everything from an excerpt of Gore Vidal's memoir to writing some of those juicy cover lines myself. ~ John Searles

God, Emma. I'm yours. I've always been yours. From the moment I saw the dark silk of your hair and the storm in your eyes, I was a lost cause…lost to you. I've been through hell, and I would go again. I would go willingly, and would charge through the gates if it meant it would keep you safe. ~ Ginger Scott

Love is a funny thing. It's not at all what you expect it to be. But if you have to stand out on the corner to prove it, then maybe it's better not to be in love at all. - excerpt from: freefalling ~ Darlenne Susan Girard

I will become my undoing if I become my obsession -excerpt from Abnegation manifesto ~ Veronica Roth

From day one, I've been prepared
With vo5 wax for my ginger hair. ~ Ed Sheeran

Tons of comedians have said, 'I grew up learning from Bill Cosby. He's great.' But that respect doesn't mean much to the young people. They like their ginger ale with hot sauce. ~ Bill Cosby

Lo, thou, my Love, art fair;
Myself have made thee so;
Yea, thou art fair indeed,
Wherefore thou shalt not need
In beauty to despair;
For I accept thee so,
For fair.

[excerpt from "Christ to His Spouse"] ~ William Baldwin

He knew that 'fine.' It was another one of those female 'fine' that meant he was in the doghouse. That kind of 'fine' that meant 'I'm gonna shut up now, but I might stab you in your sleep'."
Brick
Excerpt From: Lina, Andersson. "Arrow of Time. ~ Lina Andersson

I know the difference between right and wrong. Right is when I do everything he tells me to. Wrong is when I question why. But every now and then a simple slap across the side of the head is a good way to remind me. - excerpt from: freefalling ~ Darlenne Susan Girard

We each took a cup as we passed and drank the sweet chilled beverage- it was refreshing and tasted like ginger ale with a swirl of summer peaches. Then Peaseblossom waved us through the open door.
"Wow," said Henry.
We stepped into an enchanted culinary forest. The walls had been painted to look like a thicket of trees, and the ceiling resembled the summer sky in the woods, complete with overhanging branches. There were topiaries and baskets overflowing with wildflowers. The tables were grouped to one side, still draped in their shimmering coverings. Dreamy music floated through the air, and piney, herby scents wafted on gentle currents. Butterflies flitted around and landed on people's heads and shoulders. And everywhere we looked, there were trays of baked goods- most of them, I realized, straight from the pages of Puffy Fay's cookbook. The pastry case and the counter near it were hidden behind curtains that looked like a wall of evergreens. ~ Rajani LaRocca

The girls seemed unconcerned and went about their days, each as lovely in their own way as the flowers they tended. Sorrel's black hair became streaked with premature white, which gave her an exotic air, although the elegance was somewhat ruined by the muddy jeans and shorts she practically lived in. Nettie, on the other hand, had a head of baby-fine blonde hair that she wore short, thinking, wrongly, that it would look less childlike. Nettie wouldn't dream of being caught in dirty jeans and was always crisply turned out in khaki capris or a skirt and a white shirt. She considered her legs to be her finest feature. She was not wrong.
Patience was the sole Sparrow redhead, although her hair had deepened from its childhood ginger and was now closer to the color of a chestnut. It was heavy and glossy as a horse's mane, and she paid absolutely no attention to it or to much else about her appearance, nor did she have to. In the summer her wide-legged linen trousers and cut-off shorts were speckled with dirt and greenery, her camisoles tatty and damp. The broad-brimmed hat she wore to pick was most often dangling from a cord down her back. As a result, the freckles that feathered across her shoulders and chest were the color of caramel and resistant to her own buttermilk lotion (Nettie smoothed it on Patience whenever she could make her stand still). When it was terribly hot, Patience wore the sundresses she'd found packed away in the attic. She knew they were her mother's, an ~ Ellen Herrick

Times like this, I don't wish for ignorance. I look around and I see the bloated ignorance of the lumpen proletariat: roly-poly, sausage-fingered, ginger-topped fathers of at least two illegitimate children trying to massage the asses of waiflike, peroxide-scarred students who are themselves trying to navigate adulthood with their new-found freedom from outdated parenting. ~ Ayize Jama-Everett

She has been trying to pull her worth from him for so long. She has been trying to extract her beauty from his skin. She has been dying to be loved by him again ... but he will always leave her empty ~ Coco J. Ginger

Emma Burke is different from anything else.
She's what I'm supposed to have. She's what my first kiss should have been. And she's the only kiss I ever want to remember. ~ Ginger Scott

Her mascara ran in streaks
down her face
lipstick smeared across her
alabaster cheeks like a porcelain
doll that had been flung around
before the paint had dried.

...

barely blinking
eyes like content little suns
poking through dark mascara
clouds
she is broken
yet whole at the same time
and she belongs to him

(excerpt from "Content" in Make Me Take It From You by HL37) ~ HL37

Finer culturing was often a sign of too long of a period of peace. A period of peace no doubt brought on by a strong military, which was forgotten or even ignored in the latter days of a self absorbed nation."

Excerpt From: Guy Stanton III. "A Warrior's Legacy." iBooks.
This material is copyrighted ~ Guy S. Stanton III

(Excerpt from Leaving Things Alone)
You train your eye and your vision lusts after colour. You train your ear, and you long for delightful sound. You delight in doing good, and your natural kindness is blown out of shape. You delight in righteousness, and you become righteous beyond all reason. ~ Thomas Merton

When I was younger, I definitely did face anti-ginger prejudice. As a child, all teasing hurts, whether it's because you're fat or a different race or have red hair. I had enough comments from a couple of people to make it a sore point. ~ Lily Cole

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it.
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

(Excerpt from "How Did You Die?") ~ Edmund Vance Cooke

Let's be detectives when we grow up," suggested Douglas.
" No," said William. " It's more fun bein' the man that comes along an' finds out all about it when the detectives have stopped tryin'. I'm goin to be one of that sort. I'm goin' to go on readin' myst'ry tales all the time from now till I'm grown up an' then I bet there won't be any way of killin' folks that I won't know all about so I'll be able to catch all the murd'rers there are an' I bet I'll be famous an' they'll put up a stachoo to me when I'm dead."
" I bet they won't," said Ginger, irritated by William's egotism. " You'll prob'ly get murdered yourself before you've tound out anythin' at all an' then Douglas an' Henry an' me' 11 find out who did it an' get famous. ~ Richmal Crompton

Watching the painter painting
And all the time, the light is changing
And he keeps painting
That bit there, it was an accident
But he's so pleased
It's the best mistake, he could make
And it's my favourite piece
It's just great

--- excerpt from the song "An Architect's Dream" from the album Aerial ~ Kate Bush

Absolutely love this particular excerpt: "Books are silent friends, and should be treated well. I am proud of my books. I hope that my children will use them and preserve them when I am gone from this world. Human friends may betray you, but not so with books. Books contain wisdom for our understanding, humour for our entertainment, information for our development, and matter for our pleasure. ~ Brenda Mohammed

On 11 September 2012 crowds of friendly locals in Kabul, Afghanistan, were chanting the usual 'Death to America' slogans. At the same time American flags were torched from London to Sydney. And in Benghazi, Libya, a group of 'spontaneous protesters' arrived at the US consulate with rocket-propelled grenades and savagely murdered the US ambassador. In Washington, members of the Obama administration were, as we have already seen, showing that they weren't taking any of this personally. It wasn't about them and it certainly wasn't about their ambassador, who had in fact been murdered by terrorists in a pre-planned attack. The administration was still claiming all this was caused by an excerpt from an amateur film which had been up on YouTube for weeks. ~ Douglas Murray

I haven't said it yet, but it seemed implied, that cinema for me was the American one, current Hollywood productions. "My" period goes roughly from The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (Henry Hathaway, 1935) with Gary Cooper and Mutiny on the Bounty (Frank Lloyd, 1935) with Charles Laughton and Clark Gable, to the death of Jean Harlow (which I relived many years later like the death of Marilyn Monroe, in an era more aware of the neurotic power of every symbol), with lots of comedies in between, the mystery-romances with Myrna Loy and William Powell and the dog Asta, the musicals of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the crime pictures of Chinese detective Charlie Chan and the horror films of Boris Karloff. I didn't remember the names of the directors as well as the names of the actors, except for a few like Frank Capra, Gregory La Cava, and Frank Borzage, who represented the poor rather than the millionaires, usually with Spencer Tracy: they were the good-natured directors from the Roosevelt era; I learned this later; back then I consumed everything without distinguishing between them too much. American cinema in that moment consisted of a collection of actors' faces without equal before or after (at least it seemed that way to me) and the adventures were simple mechanisms to get these faces together (sweethearts, character actors, extras) in different combinations. ~ Italo Calvino

Back Burner

Put the stress on the back burner
It only burns its way back
Put your thoughts on the future
and it becomes the past..."

excerpt from my poem Back Burner from
The Poetic Diary of Love and Change - Volume 1

©Clarissa O. Clemens ~ Clarissa O. Clemens

... the river sliding along its banks, darker now than the sky descending a last time to scatter its diamonds into these black waters that contain the day that passed, the night to come.
- Excerpt from the poem The Mercy ~ Philip Levine

After sending Bella a Christmas card for years with no response, a few years before I'd decided to add something more personal- one of Mum's recipes. I had included various Christmas recipes each year since, from gingerbread to chocolate and cranberry brownies- Bella's favorite as a child. I saw these as a reminder of the good times we'd shared and hoped she'd feel the same. Just writing down those recipes reminded me of Mum in her kitchen- the soft, wobbly fold of flour into butter, the grit of sugar, the heady fragrance of chocolate, sweet vanilla and the warmth of ginger. ~ Sue Watson

Now alongside Scovell, John eased preserved peaches out of galliot pots of syrup and picked husked walnuts from puncheons of salt. He clarified butter and poured it into rye-paste coffins. From the Master Cook, John learned to set creams with calves' feet, then isinglass, then hartshorn, pouring decoctions into egg-molds to set and be placed in nests of shredded lemon peel. To make cabbage cream he let the thick liquid clot, lifted off the top layer, folded it then repeated the process until the cabbage was sprinkled with rose water and dusted with sugar, ginger and nutmeg. He carved apples into animals and birds. The birds themselves he roasted, minced and folded into beaten egg whites in a foaming forcemeat of fowls.
John boiled, coddled, simmered and warmed. He roasted, seared, fried and braised. He poached stock-fish and minced the meats of smoked herrings while Scovell's pans steamed with ancient sauces: black chawdron and bukkenade, sweet and sour egredouce, camelade and peppery gauncil. For the feasts above he cut castellations into pie-coffins and filled them with meats dyed in the colors of Sir William's titled guests. He fashioned palaces from wafers of spiced batter and paste royale, glazing their walls with panes of sugar. For the Bishop of Carrboro they concocted a cathedral.
'Sprinkle salt on the syrup,' Scovell told him, bent over the chafing dish in his chamber. A golden liquor swirled in the pan. 'Very slowly.'
'It will taint the sugar,' John o ~ Lawrence Norfolk

I can't!"
He cups my chin in his hand, and an odd kind of strength flows from him to me. "You can. You will. You're stronger than you know, Tamara. Fight for yourself. You're worth it."
I feel as if my mind is splitting in two. My vision swims, and I think I see two Joshuas standing in front of me, and then they merge again.
He's telling me to fight to save myself from him.
He's telling me I'm strong and worthwhile.
Nobody has ever told me that before. Ever ~ Ginger Talbot

A few minutes later, a tall, bronze-skinned woman with masses of dark hair, eyes like pale emeralds, and more curves than the Nürburgring racetrack appeared next to my table. My SEAL stood and started to intervene, but I held up a lazy hand, gave a droopy-eyed smile, slurred my words, and waved him off. The stripper sat on my lap with nothing between her and the Lord but a smile and three pieces of strategically placed duct tape. She slipped a glittering arm around my shoulders - she apparently was wearing lotion with metal flakes in it and it felt rough. Then she leaned her décolletage my way, placing her head next to my ear. "You know what you're supposed to do, right?" she whispered, smiling and acting like she had just said something terribly wrong. She was a good actress for Elizabeth City.
Laughing, smiling, and acting wasted, I slurred as loudly and obnoxiously as I could, "Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing, woman!" With that, I reached up and placed my hand on her massive breast, just as I'd been instructed to do - all for the good of my country.
The slap that followed could[…]"

Excerpt From: Jamie Smith. "Gray Work ~ Jamie Smith

Even though I knew I had a snowball's chance in Hades with you." She sniffed and wiped a tear with the back of her hand. "I just ... I just wanted to give you something pure. It's all I have. Had. Everything else about me is tainted by demon blood. But I had that. And it's always been yours."
-Gem to Kynan
Excerpt From: Larissa Ione. "Desire Unchained." iBooks. ~ Larissa Ione

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE
MY LIFE ON CRAIGSLIST

Stars and Cards Never Lie

Date: 2011-04-1, 9:17PM EST

Reply to: [email protected]

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Chapter 1
Four Cookies and a Funeral



Yesterday I went on Craigslist and hired a Tarot reader to tell me whether I was in any danger of losing my job. I wasn't really worried because last week, an astrologer I'd also found on Craigslist, had told me there was no major movement in the sixth house, which is the area of my chart that governs work. But just in case, I met with the Tarot card reader who told me everything was going to be okay.
Today I got canned. ~ Alexandra Ares

Chang-bo took to his bed, or rather to the quilts on the floor that was all they had left. His legs swelled up like balloons with what Mrs. Song had come to recognize as edema - fluid retention brought on by starvation. He talked incessantly about food. He spoke of the tofu soups his mother made him as a child and an unusually delicious meal of steamed crab with ginger that Mrs. Song had cooked for him when they were newlyweds. He had an uncanny ability to remember details of dishes she had cooked decades earlier. He was sweetly sentimental, even romantic, when he spoke about their meals together. He would take her hand in his own, his eyes wet and cloudy with the mist of his memories.
"Come, darling. Let's go to a good restaurant and order a nice bottle of wine," he told his wife one morning when they were stirring on the blankets. They hadn't eaten in three days. Mrs. Song looked at her husband with alarm, worried that he was hallucinating.
She ran out the door to the market, moving fast and forgetting all about the pain in her back. She was determined to steal, beg - whatever it took - to get some food for her husband. She spotted her older sister selling noodles. Her sister wasn't faring well - her skin was flaked just like Chang-bo's from malnutrition - so Mrs. Song had resisted asking her for help, but now she was desperate, and of course, her sister couldn't refuse.
"I'll pay you back," Mrs. Song promised as she ran back home, the adrenaline pu ~ Barbara Demick

Excerpt:
Here are some thoughts from Charlene the Star:
"I'll bet that's why Mama put the word "Star" in my
name. I have a feeling I'm going to be a star as a jumper. ~ Deanie Humphrys-Dunne

That's not something I am capable of doing." I make my voice gentle, and I stroke a wet lock of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. She stares up at me, eyes shining. So beautiful. My precious, lovely Toy. "I don't want to lie to you again, and to say that I was sorry would be a lie. Being sorry would require a conscience, and I'm not wired that way. In my world, I define right and wrong. For me to apologize would mean that I was saying I thought what I did was…bad. You want me to be honest with you? I'm not sorry. What is right is what benefits me. End of story. But I am saying that I should not have gone so far when I punished you. And we're going to have to work out a new set of rules and a new way to get along. Because I'm not going to lose you."
"Why?" she demands despairingly, her face twisting with anguish. "I just want to be free. I hate it here. I hate you, and if I could kill you, I would. I will keep trying to kill you, myself, and Elizabeth, until I succeed. Do you not understand that?"
"I do. And all I can do is watch you day and night so I can protect you from yourself, ~ Ginger Talbot

Excerpt From the Poem-" Prayer"

Such a pleasant,
And heartfelt task.
To him implore,
And mercies ask. ~ Kari L. Greenaway