Five Fingers Quotes

The sun is perfect and you woke this morning. You have enough language in your mouth to be understood. You have a name, and someone wants to call it. Five fingers on your hand and someone wants to hold it. If we just start there, every beautiful thing that has and will ever exist is possible. If we start there, everything, for a moment, is right in the world. ~ Warsan Shire

Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO
DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if not a door. Shut your eyes and see. ~ James Joyce

You can just enjoy your little perversions alone. God gave men a hand and five fingers for a reason, you know. ~ Lora Leigh

In a shuddering voice her father kept asking the pale-faced woman - who looked like her mother and wore her mother's apron but couldn't be her mother - for forgiveness. If she had been dying every minute of every day, they might have been a happy family. The blood consumed every centimeter of apron cloth and Havaa was afraid the wound would become hers if she came too close. Her mother stirred, looked to her father, and wrapped her five fingers over his none. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head, told her to save her breath, and Havaa would always remember how he had shushed what might have been her good-bye so that she could breathe. ~ Anthony Marra

Brother Horse spread five fingers in the wind. "'Thus the tree grows,'" he quoted, "'and each new branch, as a new tree. Nothing is unchanging, least of all the ways of people. ~ Greg Keyes

One word, two lips, three four five fingers form a fist.
One corner, two parents, three four five reasons to hide.
One child, two eyes, three four seventeen years of fear.
A broken broomstick, a pair of wile faces, angry whispers, locks on my door. ~ Tahereh Mafi

In all things purely social we can be as separate as the five fingers, and yet one as the hand in all things essential to mutual progress. ~ W.E.B. Du Bois

He's a hot bath, a short breath, five days of summer pressed into five fingers writing stories on my body. ~ Tahereh Mafi

A basketball team is like the five fingers on your hand. If you can get them all together, you have a fist. That's how I want you to play. ~ Mike Krzyzewski

I have a friend who feels sometimes that the world is hostile to human life
he says it chills us and kills us. But how could we be were it not for this planet that provided our very shape? Two conditions
gravity and a livable temperature range between freezing and boiling
have given us fluids and flesh. The trees we climb and the ground we walk on have given us five fingers and toes. The "place" (from the root plat, broad, spreading, flat) gave us far-seeing eyes, the streams and breezes gave us versatile tongues and whorly ears. The land gave us a stride, and the lake a dive. The amazement gave us our kind of mind. We should be thankful for that, and take nature's stricter lessons with some grace. ~ Gary Snyder

I realized that if I ever have children, I don't want them to have American childhoods. I don't want them to say 'Hi' to adults I want them to say 'Good morning' and 'Good afternoon'. I don't want them to mumble 'Good' when someone says 'How are you?' to them. Or to raise five fingers when asked how old they are. I want them to say 'I'm fine thank you' and 'I'm five years old'. I don't want a child who feeds on praise and expects a star for effort and talks back to adults in the name of self-expression. Is that terribly conservative? ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

It's funny how you can't ask difficult questions in a familiar place, how you have to stand back a few feet and see things in a new way before you realize nothing that is happening to you is normal. The trouble with you and me is we are used to what is happening to us. We grew into our lives like a kernel beneath the earth, never able to process the enigma of our composition ... Nothing is normal. It is all rather odd, isn't it, our eyes in our heads, our hands with five fingers, the capacity to understand beauty, to feel love, to feel pain. ~ Donald Miller

He was the son of this bitchy book reviewer. Totally blasted my first book. Called all my lovely kinksters 'sick' and 'abusive.' So I got my payback by sickly abusing her youngest all night long."
"And you felt guilty about that?"
"Not the sex. The note I sent Mom the next day."
"You sent his mother a note after you seduced her son? What did it say?"
"It said..." Nora began, and paused for a breath. Not one of her prouder moments. "It said, 'Your son gave me five stars last night. And five fingers.'"
"You're smiling."
"I'm trying so hard to feel bad about it. I swear to God I am. ~ Tiffany Reisz

After an awkward pause, Bast extended his hand. Chronicler hesitated for a bare moment before reaching out quickly, as if he were sticking his hand into a fire.
Nothing happened, both of them seemed moderately surprised.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Kvothe addressed them bitingly. "Five fingers and flesh with blood beneath. One could almost believe that on the other end of that hand lay a person of some sort. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

Congratulations, man. What's her name?"
"Estelle. It was my grandmother's name. Um, on my mom's side, obviously. Not Poseidon's."
"I approve," Alex said. "Old-fashioned and elegant. Estelle Jackson."
"Well, Estelle Blofis," Percy corrected. "My stepdad is Paul Blofis. Not much I can do about that surname, but my little sis is awesome. Five fingers. Five toes. Two eyes. She drools a lot."
"Just like her brother," Annabeth said.
Alex laughed. ~ Rick Riordan

Even great spirits have only their five-fingers' breadth of experience - just beyond it their thinking ceases and their endless empty space and stupidity begins. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

You see my five fingers, but somebody can see the five gaps between my fingers. Ordinarily you will not see the gaps, you will see five fingers. But the gaps are more real: fingers may come and go, gaps will remain. Between sounds of music there are gaps of silence. The authentic music consists not of sounds,but of the gaps. Sounds come and go; those gaps remain. And music can make you aware of those gaps more beautifully than anything else; hence I have to say that music comes next to silence. ~ Osho

The feel of her hand has never left me. It was different from any other hand I'd ever held, different from any touch I've ever known. It was merely the small, warm hand of a twelve-year-old girl, yet those five fingers and that palm were like a display case crammed full of everything I wanted to know
and everything I had to know. By taking my hand, she showed me what these things were. That within the real world, a place like this existed. In the space of those ten seconds I became a tiny bird, fluttering into the air, the wind rushing by. From high in the sky I could see a scene far away. It was so far off I couldn't make it out clearly, yet something was there, and I knew that someday I would travel to that place. ~ Haruki Murakami

for a second i wonder if you are really that naive. if you really believe fate works like that. as if it lives in the sky staring down at us. as if it has five fingers and spends its time placing us like pieces of chess. as if it is not the choices we make. ~ Rupi Kaur

If you can put your five fingers throught it, it is a gate, if not a door. ~ James Joyce

Roses are red, violets are blue, I have five fingers, the middle one is for you. ~ Gena Showalter

You take five fingers. Individually, I can pin any one of them, but if I pin them together (makes a fist), it's damn near impossible to turn this around. ~ Ray Lewis

glass front doors. I splayed my five fingers wide to intentionally leave a handprint on the spotless door. "You missed a spot."
"Asshole."
"And proud of it."
"Next week, I want two balls."
"Yours shrivel up and fall off or something?"
"Bite me."
"Later, Grouper ~ Vi Keeland

If you think you can grasp me, think again:
my story flows in more than one direction
a delta springing from the riverbed
with its five fingers spread ~ Adrienne Rich

Do you want to know something? I have three pairs of kid gloves. I've had kid mittens before from the Christmas tree, but never real kid gloves with five fingers. I take them out and try them on every little while. It's all I can do not to wear them to classes. ~ Jean Webster

A thousand years ago five minutes were
Equal to forty ounces of fine sand.
Outstare the stars. Infinite foretime and
Infinite aftertime: above your head
They close like giant wings, and you are dead. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

And What Good Will Your Vanity Be When The Rapture Comes"

says the man with a cart of empty bottles at the corner of church
and lincoln while I stare into my phone and I say
I know oh I know while trying to find the specific
filter that will make the sun's near-flawless descent look

the way I might describe it in a poem and the man
says the moment is already right in front of you and I
say I know but everyone I love is not here and I mean
here like on this street corner with me while I turn

the sky a darker shade of red on my phone and I mean
here like everyone I love who I can still touch and not
pass my fingers through like the wind in a dream
but I look up at the man and he is a kaleidoscope

of shadows I mean his shadows have shadows
and they are small and trailing behind him and I know
then that everyone he loves is also not here and the man doesn't ask
but I still say hey man I've got nothing I've got nothing even though I have plenty

to go home to and the sun is still hot even in its
endless flirt with submission and the man's palm has a small
river inside I mean he has taken my hand now and here we are
tethered and unmoving and the man says what color are you making

the sky and I say what I might say in a poem I say all surrender
ends in blood and he says what color are you making the sky and
I say something bright enoug ~ Hanif Abdurraqib

He tried to close a hand around the precious coffee but had to jerk his fingers away, sharply enough that his wrist popped painfully. Tallow wondered if the other end of the coffee machine was slurping water out of a lake in Hell. ~ Warren Ellis

Gabe watched, holding his breath as the figure slowly turned. The body moved in an almost unnatural way as it shifted and crawled slowly on all fours across the floor. When the candlelight at last fell on the figure, Gabe could make out the auburn hair of his beloved Sophie. Her hair was matted, greasy, and hung in her face.
Gabe saw her shoulders were hollow looking and her skin was almost glowing white. Gabe caught sight of Sophie's fingers, her knuckles were bloody, and her nails cracked and peeling. Instinctively, Gabe fell to his knees and crawled to Sophie. Without even giving it a thought, he grabbed her hands and pulled them closer to the light. ~ Wendy Owens

The vampire before me was a reminder of what I had been before Sarah had wrapped her slender fingers around my soul and grounded me. before I'd learned to rein in the monster inside me and trust that other voice that sometimes whispered I could be good underneath everything else. ~ S.J. Wright

The clouds won't shatter my dreams, but this is a story about how I lost myself to the storm."
"And something's got me tethered to you ... "
"Always to you ... "
"They think I'm crazy ... I love him. I swear, I do."
"Then why are you here, T?"
"Esto es complicado, Eli. It's all the lies I made up to get away from you, the distance I drove to free myself, that's brought me here. It's that moment before your kiss and the sound of my name on your lips. It's you that's taken me the five miles I needed to be where you are. I won't run again."
"What are we doing?"
"We're LIVING. ~ Nadege Richards

She'd stutter all the reasons why she shouldn't, shaking her head adamantly. But her body..her body would grow hot with excitement. She'd get wet at the thrill of it. So fucking wet that i'd smell her, telling me she's not even wearing panties to smother her spicy scent.
When my hand touched hers, still clutched to her chest, she'd flinch but she wouldn't pull away. She'd let me guide it between her swollen breasts and down to her flat belly, brushing the bit of exposed skin where the hem of her shirt rides up. Then I'd let her fingers play with the jewel in her navel, manipulating each digit as if that diamond-studded barbell was her clit. Demonstrating how I would stroke it for her. ~ S.L. Jennings

Honoria nodded and was about to say something utterly
forgettable when she saw that his hand had been bandaged.
"I hope your injury is not severe," she said politely.
"Oh, this?" he held up his hand. His fingers were free to waggle,
but the rest of it looked rather like a mitt. "It's nothing. An
altercation with a letter opener."
"Well, please do be careful of infection," Honoria said,
somewhat more forcefully than was de rigueur. "If it grows red, or
swollen, or even worse, yellow, then you must see a doctor at
once."
"Green?" he quipped.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You listed so many colors about which I must be wary."
For a moment Honoria could only stare. Wound infection was
not a laughing matter.
"Lady Honoria?" he murmured.
She decided to proceed as if he'd said nothing. "Most
importantly, you must watch for reddish streaks spreading from the
wound. Those are the worst."
He blinked, but if he was startled by the turn of the
conversation, he did not show it. Instead he looked down at his
hand with a curious eye and said, "How red?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How red do the streaks have to be before I must worry?"
"How do you know so much about medicine?" Lady Danbury
cut in.
"Do you know, I'm not sure how red," Honoria told Mr.
Bridgerton. "I would think anything stripey ought to be a cause for
alarm. ~ Julia Quinn

The war has put its skeleton fingers even into our pockets. (pg:40) ~ Virginia Woolf

Where does American money come from? Steel. Railways. You know how it is over there. It doesn't matter if you murder or rob to get it. The trick is in keeping it for a hundred years, and then you're aristocrats.' 'Is that so different from here?' Brunetti asked. 'Of course,' Padovani explained, smiling. 'Here we have to keep it five hundred years before we're aristocrats. And there's another difference. In Italy, you have to be well-dressed. In America, it's difficult to tell which are the millionaires and which are the servants. ~ Donna Leon

All these men afraid of bein' crowded, ain't they? They need all this room, they afraid some woman gonna crawl in their head and take over. Well, surprise, surprise. Ain't nobody crawlin' in there 'cept you, honey, and you get older and older and it get stuffy in there. Let me tell you, you afraid of other folks takin' away your elbow room, well, just relax. You born alone, you die alone, and you get any kind of company in between, you one lucky boy. Bein' by yourself ain't no accomplishment. Ain't like being no kind of hero. Ray, see, Ray sho 'nough figures he gettin' away with somethin', understand me? He think he a clever boy, runnin' round with whores, gettin' diseases, drinkin' his heart out till five in the a.m. Lucky Ray, huh? Well, what Raymond Harris gettin' away with is not see his kids grow up, and when he do come back they call him Mr. Harris 'steada Daddy, and they shake his hand 'steada kiss his cheek, and they spit when he turn his back. And I spit, too, though I'll take him in again and love him, 'cause that's what I's here to do. But I spit anyways, 'cause he such a dumb sucker, understand me? 'Less stupid ole Ray Harris die by hisself in some alleyway. Sho, run away. Best way in the world to be nothin'. Risk endin' up croaked by garbage cans, when he could die in my arms?" Leonia put her coffee cup in its saucer, and it rattled softly. "That no way to be the big man, baby. That just be dumb and sad. You got me? ~ Lionel Shriver

CCA finds ways to minimize its obligation to provide adequate health care. At the out-of-state prisons where California ships some of its inmates, CCA will not accept any prisoners who are over sixty-five years old, have mental health issues, or serious conditions like HIV. The company's Idaho prison contract specified that the 'primary criteria' for screening incoming offenders was 'no chronic mental health or health care issues.' The contracts of some CCA prisons in Tennessee and Hawaii stipulate that the states will bear the cost of HIV treatment. Such exemptions allow CCA to tout its cost efficiency while taxpayers assume the medical expenses for the inmates the company won't take or treat. ~ Shane Bauer

Your next step is to identify why you want to live like that. Look back over your notes about the kind of lifestyle you want, and think again. Why do you want to do aromatherapy before bed? Why do you want to listen to classical music while doing yoga? If the answers are "because I want to relax before bed," and "I want to do yoga to lose weight," ask yourself why you want to relax and why you want to lose weight. Maybe your answers will be "I don't want to be tired when I go to work the next day," and "I want to lose weight so that I can be more svelte." Ask yourself "Why?" again, for each answer. Repeat this process three to five times for every item. As you continue to explore the reasons behind your ideal lifestyle, you will come to a simple realization. The whole point in ~ Marie Kondo

He's not a bad guy really, except he's so crooked, you shake hands with him you better count your fingers afterwards. ~ Ian Fleming

About five years ago, I fainted from exhaustion. I hit my head on my desk. I broke my cheekbone and got four stitches on my right eye. It started me on this journey of rediscovering sleep and balance and integrating my life. I think everyone should stop and reassess their lives before you hit your head on your desk. ~ Arianna Huffington

It all felt like a terribly long time. It would have meant that I had to make five movies in five years and if you don't like the movies, too bad. I guess I just wanted my freedom, and I think my life has been incredibly enhanced as a result. ~ Joseph Fiennes

There are five issues that make a fist of a hand that can knock America out cold. They're lack of jobs, obesity, diabetes, homelessness, and lack of good education. ~ Will.i.am

Christ, we've only been here for five minutes. It's like being stuck in the Tardis. Time has lost all meaning." He turned away to ditch his cocktail glass, thus missing Lainie's gobsmacked expression. A Doctor Who reference from her second-least-favorite person? Wonders never ceased. ~ Lucy Parker

That's what I love about sketch comedy: a sketch is five minutes, then it goes dark, and there's the potential for something else. ~ Jason Sudeikis

Okay," he says before setting his hand on mine. He weaves his fingers in between my own and I swear I just swallowed a drummer with the way my heart pounds in my throat. I steal a glance at him, and he looks like he's about to sweat a waterfall. "I-I'll shift, you just worry about the clutch." He gulps and his grip tightens on my hand.
If he thinks this is less distracting, he's dead wrong. ~ Cassie Mae

Keeping a journal has taught me that there is not so much new in your life as you sometimes think. When you re-read your journal you find out that your latest discovery is something you already found out five years ago. Still, it is true that one penetrates deeper and deeper into the same ideas and the same experiences. ~ Thomas Merton

All the Midkemia stories are part of a 'history of an imaginary place,' so I've always known the cycle covered five rift wars. I just got to the end after 30 books. So there was no particular inspiration, save it was time to finish the whole shebang. ~ Raymond E. Feist

I didn't have to do paper routes. I'd sing for 5 bucks a crack at weddings and church functions; I'd have four or five on some Saturdays. ~ Len Cariou

It's our turf," the younger woman barked.
"Actually it's my turf."
The thugs spun to me.
"Let's see . . . You're hassling people in my territory, so you owe me a fee. A couple of fingers ought to do it. Do we have a volunteer?"
The small thug pulled a bowie knife from a sheath on his waist.
I kept coming. "That's a mistake."
The thug crouched down. He clenched his knife, like he was drowning and it was a straw that would pull him out. A little crazy light danced in his eyes. "Come on, whore. Come on."
The oldest bluff in the book: get a crazy glimmer in your eyes, look like you're ready to fight, and the other guy might back off. Heh.
"That might work better for you if you held the knife properly. You were doing okay until you pulled the blade. Now I know that you have no clue how to use it and I'll have to chop your hand off and shove that knife up your ass just to teach you a lesson. Nothing personal. I have a reputation to uphold."
I pulled Slayer out. I had years of practice to back me up and I made the draw fast.
The two bravos behind the knife-wielding thug backed away.
I looked at Slayer's blade. "Well, check this out. Mine is bigger. Let's go, knife-master. I don't have all day. ~ Ilona Andrews

New country music comprises about five percent of what I hear per year. I enjoy it, but I don't really take note of who's singing it or writing it. ~ Rivers Cuomo

To get the idea that you are the center," Oliveira thought, resting more comfortably on the board. "But it's incalculably stupid. A center as illusory as it would be to try to find ubiquity. There is no center, there's a kind of continuous confluence, an undulation of matter. All through the night I'm a motionless body, and on the other side of town a roll of newsprint is being converted into the morning paper, and at eight-forty I will leave the house and at eight-twenty the paper will have arrived at the newsstand on the corner, and at eight forty-five my hand and the newspaper will come together and begin to move together through the air, three feet from the ground, heading towards the streetcar stop. ~ Julio Cortazar

The years passed unnoticed and unremembered, and one autumn morning I found myself suddenly forty-five years old. It was a time for weighing youthful hopes against mature accomplishment, for it was quite certain that I had by then done all I was ever going to do. Sitting alone at my desk that evening of my forty-fifth birthday I asked that least original of introspective questions: Where had it all gone? And the somewhat less banal question: What, after all, had it been? My ~ Trevanian

Since we choose our bodies and the lessons that come with living that life, those with crippling imperfections--a physical handicap, maybe, or a psychiatric struggle related to depression or OCD--have done so to grow their souls in some way. I wish my body were a lot of things it's not--relaxed instead of anxious, five foot seven and a hundred twenty pounds instead of five foot one and…never mind. ~ Theresa Caputo

He says there are sixty-five million specimens in this place, and if you have the right teacher, each can be as interesting as the last. ~ Anthony Doerr

Is - is any of this real?" she asked. "Are you real?"
He lifted a hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing her jaw.
"Even if this is a dream," he whispered, "I'm not."
Isobel's eyes widened, recognizing those words as her own, the same ones she had once uttered to him. She reached for him, her arms twining around his neck, drawing him closer so his scent poured over her, that combination of incense, citrus, and dried leaves overriding the funeral funeral smell of the crowding flowers.
"Don't leave," she breathed.
"I'm here," he whispered. "Right here. Waiting. ~ Kelly Creagh

For six years, from age nineteen until I turned twenty-five, I did not sleep uninterrupted through a single night ... I felt lucky to get my shoes on the right feet ... I moved forward only, thinking each morning anew that we were leaving the worst behind. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Every man, woman and child consumes, on average, 43 teaspoons of sugar a day. In 13 days, that adds up to a five-pound bag of sugar. ~ John Mackey

I detest love lyrics. I think one of the causes of bad mental health in the United States is that people have been raised on 'love lyrics'.

You're a young kid and you hear all those 'love lyrics', right? Your parents aren't telling you the truth about love, and you can't really learn about it in school. You're getting the bulk of your 'behaviour norms' mapped out for you in the lyrics to some dumb fucking love song. It's a subconscious training that creates desire for an imaginary situation which will never exist for you. People who buy into that mythology go through life feeling that they got cheated out of something.

What I think is very cynical about some rock and roll songs -- especially today -- is the way they say: "Let's make love." What the fuck kind of wussy says shit like that in the real world? You ought to be able to say "Let's go fuck", or at least "Let's go fill-in-the-blank" -- but you gotta say "Let's make love" in order to get on the radio. This creates a semantic corruption, by changing the context in which the word 'love' is used in the song.

When they get into drooling about love as a 'romantic concept' -- especially in the lyrics of sensitive singer/songwriter types -- that's another shove in the direction of bad mental health.

Fortunately, lyrics over the last five or six years have gotten to be less and less important, with 'art rock groups' and new wavers specializing in 'nonjudgemental' or 'purposely inconse ~ Frank Zappa

And they hooked their fingers around its slender spurs, and pulled. ~ Laini Taylor

(This town) doesn't look like anything; it isn't anything. Its five tin-roofed huts cling to the skinny tracks of the Uganda Railway like parasites on a vine. ~ Beryl Markham

It really comes down to Mick. He's the one who was constantly trying to get these five people in one room together. This is his love, his baby. It's his band, and there's nothing more he loves to do than get up on stage and play with us. ~ Christine McVie

And L-M-N-O-P is not one letter, but five. It took me forever to figure that out. ~ Kim Harrison

If we win, I don't care if I get 20 boards or five boards. ~ Jermaine O'Neal

What would you have me do?
Seek for the patronage of some great man,
And like a creeping vine on a tall tree
Crawl upward, where I cannot stand alone?
No thank you! Dedicate, as others do,
Poems to pawnbrokers? Be a buffoon
In the vile hope of teasing out a smile
On some cold face? No thank you! Eat a toad
For breakfast every morning? Make my knees
Callous, and cultivate a supple spine,-
Wear out my belly grovelling in the dust?
No thank you! Scratch the back of any swine
That roots up gold for me? Tickle the horns
Of Mammon with my left hand, while my right
Too proud to know his partner's business,
Takes in the fee? No thank you! Use the fire
God gave me to burn incense all day long
Under the nose of wood and stone? No thank you!
Shall I go leaping into ladies' laps
And licking fingers?-or-to change the form-
Navigating with madrigals for oars,
My sails full of the sighs of dowagers?
No thank you! Publish verses at my own
Expense? No thank you! Be the patron saint
Of a small group of literary souls
Who dine together every Tuesday? No
I thank you! Shall I labor night and day
To build a reputation on one song,
And never write another? Shall I find
True genius only among Geniuses,
Palpitate over little paragraphs,
And struggle to insinuate my name
In the columns of the Mercury?
No thank you! Calculate, scheme, be a ~ Edmond Rostand

My theory was that readers just thought they cared nothing but the action; that really, although they didn't know it, they cared very little about the action. The things they really cared about, and that I cared about, were the creation of emotion through dialog and description. The things they remembered, that haunted them, were not for example that a man got killed, but that in the moment of his death he was trying to pick a paper clip off the polished surface of a desk, and it kept slipping away from him, so that there was a look of strain on his face and his mouth was half open in a kind of tormented grin, and the last thing in the world he thought about was death. He didn't even hear death knock on the door. That damn little paper clip kept slipping away from his fingers. ~ Raymond Chandler

Five to six thousand people die every year waiting for organs, but nobody cares. ~ Jack Kevorkian

It [the trip] captured five very long hours. If you want to know why, it is because Grandfather is Grandfather first and a driver second. He made us lost often and became on his nerves. I had to translate his anger into useful information for the hero. "Fuck," Grandfather said. I said, "He says that if you look at the statues, you can see that some no longer endure. Those are where Communist statues used to be." "Fucking fuck, fuck!" Grandfather shouted. "Oh," I said, "he wants you to know that that building, that building, and that building are all important." "Why?" the hero inquired. "Fuck!" Grandfather said. "He cannot remember," I said. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer