Hyphenated Words Quotes

In the 1950s kids lost their innocence.
They were liberated from their parents by well-paying jobs, cars, and lyrics in music that gave rise to a new term ---the generation gap.

In the 1960s, kids lost their authority.
It was a decade of protest---church, state, and parents were all called into question and found wanting. Their authority was rejected, yet nothing ever replaced it.

In the 1970s, kids lost their love. It was the decade of me-ism dominated by hyphenated words beginning with self.
Self-image, Self-esteem, Self-assertion....It made for a lonely world. Kids learned everything there was to know about sex and forgot everything there was to know about love, and no one had the nerve to tell them there was a difference.

In the 1980s, kids lost their hope.
Stripped of innocence, authority and love and plagued by the horror of a nuclear nightmare, large and growing numbers of this generation stopped believing in the future.

In the 1990s kids lost their power to reason. Less and less were they taught the very basics of language, truth, and logic and they grew up with the irrationality of a postmodern world.

In the new millennium, kids woke up and found out that somewhere in the midst of all this change, they had lost their imagination. Violence and perversion entertained them till none could talk of killing innocents since none was innocent anymore. ~ Ravi Zacharias

A writer leads a hyphenated-life with words ~ Munia Khan

a book is a box of words until you open it. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Any advice which does not lead to self-improvement is misleading. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Architecture is perhaps the most beautiful and expressive of all the arts. Painting and sculpture, noble though they are, lack the utility of architecture and strive to interpret nature rather than to originate. Architecture is not hampered by the necessity of reproducing something already in existence. It may raise its spires untrammeled by any nature model; it may fling its arches gloriously across a nave and transept with no similitude in nature to hamper by suggestion. If his genius be great enough, the architect may tell in his structure truths which may not be put in words, inspire by glories not sung in the divinest harmonies. ~ Carl H. Claudy

Words are potential weapons so use them wisely. ~ Joanne Madeline Moore

Braeden sighed and looped his arm across my shoulders again and steered me toward a stack of books. "So innocent," he mused. "Tutor girl, as your man's best friend and your self-appointed big brother, I feel like it's time I teach you about the real world."
"You're my self-appointed big brother?" I asked, looking up at him.
He nodded like it was obvious. "You and Rome ... you're an exception to the rule. You two are the real deal, but most guys, guys like me, aren't looking to settle down. They like - "
"To have fun?" I finished for him, slightly amused.
"Exactly."
"But what about the girls?" I asked.
He gave me a clueless look.
I sighed. "Maybe it's me who needs to teach you, brother."
He lifted an eyebrow.
"Guys might want to have fun," I said, using his words, "but girls have a harder time keeping their feelings from getting involved."
"Relax, tutor girl," Braeden said. "I know how to handle things."
-Braeden & Rimmel ~ Cambria Hebert

People have the power we give them. Words have the power we give them. ~ Whoopi Goldberg

So rather than denying or stuffing your past, go ahead and look at it, but without judgment. Look at it, express it, admit it, acknowledge it, accept it, and move on. In other words, let your past become something that is simply a matter of fact. That's all. Express your disappointment, your regret, your anger, and then LET IT GO! If you don't, you will continue to draw to you the very events that you are still resenting or regretting. ~ Lynn Grabhorn

It is not whether your words or actions are tough or gentle; it is the spirit behind your actions and words that announces your inner state. ~ Rene Char

The likelihood is that any English-speaking skier has more words for different types of snow than any inhabitant of Alaska or Greenland. ~ Larry Trask

We writers aren't sculpting in DNA, or even clay or mud, but words, sentences, paragraphs, syntax, voice; materials issued by tongue or fingertips but which upon release dissolve into the atmosphere, into cloud, confection, specter. Language, as a vehicle, is a lemon, a hot rod painted with thrilling flames but crazily erratic to drive, riddled with bugs like innate self-consciousness, embedded metaphors and symbols, helpless intertextuality, and so forth. Despite being regularly driven on prosaic errands (interoffice memos, supermarket receipts, etc.), it tends to veer on its misaligned chassis into the ditch of abstraction, of dream. ~ Jonathan Lethem

Katarina wasn't afraid of Baden. Not anymore.

He took a step to the side, intending to move around her. Oh, no. She flattened her hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

"I want to know what's wrong with you." She said. "Tell me."

He snapped his teeth at her in a show of dominance. "You think you want to know my problem. You're wrong."

Her tone dry, she said, "I'm so glad you know my mind better than I do."

"Very well. I need sex." He threw the words at her as if they were weapons. "Badly."

Whoa. Blindside!

Heart pounding, she jerked her hands away from him. "Sex...from me?"

"Yesss." A hiss. "Only from you."

Only. Amazing how one little word could send pleasure soaring through her, warming her. "You told me never to touch you." Which she'd just done, she realized. My bad.

"I've changed my mind." His gaze dropped, lingered on her lips.

Burning her... "But you and I...we're a different species." As if that mattered to her body. Gimme!


He took a step closer, invading her personal space. "We'll fit, I promise you."


Tristo hrmenych! The raspy quality of his voice, all smoke and gravel...she shivered with longing. Must resist his allure.

But...but...why? Before she'd committed to Peter, she'd dated around, had made out in movie theaters, cars and on couches. She'd liked kissing and touching and "riding the belt buckle," as ~ Gena Showalter

In Zen, actions speak louder than words. Doing is more important than knowing, and knowledge which cannot be translated into action is of little worth. ~ Thich Thien-An

There's no rerun of life. Rejoice while there's breathe. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Taylen," Glate whispered, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Are you okay?"
Was I okay? No. I was a complete and utter wreck, but there was no way in hell I was going to show him that. "I'm dandy."
"You're a terrible liar." He propped himself up on his elbow, and leaned in closer, resting his chin on my shoulder. My body was well aware of how close he was, and it took everything in me to fight the urge to turn and face him. Teenage hormones were the absolute worst. "You know how I can tell?" he asked, running a single finger down my arm.
"How?" the word barely escaped my lips.
"Your voice trembles," he whispered. Glate moved his hand to my hips and pulled me back towards him. "Whenever you lie, you get this slight tremble in your voice. It's almost as if you're scared to admit the truth, so you try to conjure up a lie, but the fear engulfs your words on the way out, calling your bluff. ~ Nicole Sobon

Something terrible was clawing up her throat.
"I was lucky," Arin said. "I had you. And a hard head. And the grace of my god."
"Damn>/i> your god."
Arin caught her arm above the elbow. She turned to face him. All trace of humor had left his face. His eyes were wide, urgent. "Don't say that."
"Why not? I can say anything. Anything except what really matters."
"Kestrel, take it back. You'll offend him."
"Your god risks you."
"He protects me."
"You're his plaything."
"You're wrong. He loves me."
Saying those words made him look so alone. He reminded her of sails curved by the wind, full and yet empty at the same time. She found that she was jealous of his god. The sudden jealousy held her so hard in its grip that she couldn't breathe.
"It's true," Arin insisted.
She saw then that she had hurt him, that his god's love was all the more precious to him because of his fear that he would find it nowhere else. Her anger rinsed away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I ask your pardon. His, too. ~ Marie Rutkoski

Be original. That's my best advice. You're going to find that there's something that you do well, and try to do it with as much originality as you can, and don't skimp on the words. Work on the words. ~ Bob Seger

and for your words…
If I have a soul, it's yours... ~ Sylvain Reynard

Each day you wake up, you wake up with billions around the world but when the sun sets, not all retire. It is a joyful privilege to note that you are a unique person among billions of people who wake up each day to walk on the surface of the earth. It is a noble responsibility to note that you have to use this privilege effectively. ~ Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

Please not yet. Those are the three eternal words. Please not yet. ~ John D. MacDonald

Footsteps came to her, nearly invisible in the worn carpet. There were no words, just the creaking of old joints as they approached the bed, the lifting of expensive and fragrant sheets, and an understanding between two living ghosts.

Jahns's breath caught in her chest. Her hand groped for a wrist as it clutched her sheets. She slid over on the small convertible bed to make room, and pulled him down beside her.

Marnes wrapped his arms around her back, wiggled beneath her until she was lying on his side, a leg draped over his, her hands on his neck. She felt his moustach brush against her cheek, heard his lips purse and peck the corner of hers.

Jahns held his cheeks and burrowed her face into his shoulder. She cried, like a schoolchild, like a new shadow who felt lost and afraid in the wilderness of a strange and terrifying job. She cried with fear, but that soon drained away. It drained like the soreness in her back as his hands rubbed her there. It drained until numbness found its place, and then, after what felt like a forever of shuddering sobs, sensation took over.

Jahns felt alive in her skin. She felt the tingle of flesh touching flesh, of just her forearm against his hard ribs, her hands on his shoulder, his hands on her hips. And then the tears were some joyous release, some mourning of the lost time, some welcomed sadness of a moment long delayed and finally there, arms wrapped around it and holding tight.

She ~ Hugh Howey

He clicked the Save button, and there was the sound of a trumpet fanfare. A cleverly designed Flash animation in emerald green illuminated in gold leapt out at him in a 3D effect like the titles of an epic film:

WELCOME, ASH, TO BIG BROTHER, THE AVENGER!

The words exploded in a shower of gold dust. A voice boomed chillingly, 'If you want help to sort them out, look no further! Big Brother will avenge you! ~ Tracey Morait

Why are you doing this? I don't want you. Is that the problem? Is your ego so big you can't handle a woman rejecting you?"
"Oh, you want me alright, my sexy little witch. Want me so bad it scares you. Well, I've got news for you. It scares the fuck out of me, too. But I don't care. When the options are settling down with you for life and popping out little demonlings or watching you walk away, I know what I choose."
For a moment, she couldn't answer, could only gape at him as his words penetrated. Surely, she misunderstood. "What did you say?"
"I want you as my mate."
No misunderstanding that time.
She tamped down her elation by slapping it with the cold, hard truth. "You'll hurt me."
"Trust me."
He asked too much.
"I'm not the right woman."
"You're all I want."
She shook her head lest his words weave a spell around her and make her believe. Yet despite all the warnings in her head, hope blossomed and love warmed her. How nice it would be to allow herself to love him. To trust him.
Sadness entered his expression at her rejection. "I know it's hard for you, little witch, but I promise you've nothing to fear. Unless the thought of too many orgasms in a row freaks you out."
And that quickly, he changed from pensive male to the one she'd grown to love with the mischievous smile. He lunged. She squealed like a little girl and ran. Not far though.
With his ridiculously long stride, he quickly caught her a ~ Eve Langlais

For my own good. Anytime anyone had ever used those words to me, they hadn't had the slightest clue what 'my own good' truly was ~ Claudia Gray

He fixed me with a hard stare. "What do you want?"
I blinked. "I'm sorry?"
He spoke slowly, carefully shaping the words as if I was slow or hard of hearing. "What do you want for the maps?"
I wanted to hit him in the mouth really hard. ~ Ilona Andrews

[H]is first purpose was to explain himself, and before they reached Mr. Allen's grounds he had done it so well that Catherine did not think it could ever be repeated too often. She was assured of his affection; and that heart in return was solicited, which, perhaps, they pretty equally knew was already entirely his own; for, though Henry was now sincerely attached to her, though he felt and delighted in all the excellencies of her character and truly loved her society, I must confess that his affection originated in nothing better than gratitude, or, in other words, that a persuasion of her partiality for him had been the only cause of giving her a serious thought. It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own. ~ Jane Austen

Indeed, the only truly serious questions are ones that even a child can formulate. Only the most naive of questions are truly serious. They are the questions with no answers. A question with no answer is a barrier that cannot be breached. In other words, it is questions with no answers that set the limit of human possibilities, describe the boundaries of human existence. ~ Milan Kundera

If you run now, without a moment's rest, you will still be in time to warn King Lune."
Shasta's heart fainted at these words for he felt he had no strength left. And he writhed inside at what seemed the cruelty and unfairness of the demand. He had not yet learned that if you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one. But all he said out loud was:
"Where is the King?"
The Hermit turned and pointed with his staff. "Look," he said. "There is another gate, right opposite to the one you entered by. Open it and go straight ahead: always straight ahead, over level or steep, over smooth or rough, over dry or wet. I know by my art that you will find King Lune straight ahead. But run, run: always run. ~ C.S. Lewis

I was sick of the way my lyrics had been extrapolated, their meanings subverted into polemics and that I had been anointed as the Big Bubba of Rebellion, High Priest of Protest, the Duke of Disobedience, Leader of the Freeloaders, Kaiser of Apostasy, Archbishop of Anarchy, the Big Cheese. Horrible titles any way you want to look at it. All code words for Outlaw. ~ Bob Dylan

It is the man who is the missionary, it is not his words. His character is his message. ~ Henry Drummond

Liz, it's so easy to say 'I'm sorry.' It costs nothing and it saves a mint of pain. Those two words are the common coin of daily life, but especially between people who love each other. ~ Pearl S. Buck

Arty. To me the word's got as much venom associated with it as 'wacky'. ~ Alex Kapranos

I was never a man of great ambition
I cried too easily
I didn't have a head for science
Words often failed me
While others prayed I only moved my lips ~ Nicole Krauss

She slipped Glenn into her bed and then her face hung over Glenn's for one quiet moment, like a moon.
"Meera doe branagh, Glennora Morgan."
The strange words drifted down from her mother's lips, whispered as light as falling snow.
"What does it mean, Mommy?"
Fingertips grazed Glenn's cheek. "It means I love you. It means I'll always love you." She kissed Glenn softly on the forehead, then backed away. "No matter what."
She stepped into the bright hallway and closed the door.
When Glenn woke the next morning, her mother was gone ~ Jeff Hirsch

The words testament and covenant are virtually synonymous in their theological usage, the Latin definition of testamentum being "a covenant with God, holy scripture." Thus, the Old and New Testaments, as we commonly refer to them, are written testimonies or witnesses (the Latin testis meaning "witness") of the covenants between God and man in various dispensations. ~ Jeffrey R. Holland

You have ruined me. I didn't realize how much I longed for the company of others until I had your words. When they are gone, the nights are darker. The silence is loud and bottomless, and I am empty. I miss them, my beloved Sunday, and I miss you. ~ Alethea Kontis

Each man knows the plague of his own heart. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

It's not something you can find. There's a moment you arrive at
there's no words for it. A bunch of people come together at this place where a note hits your heart and your brain tells your finger where to go. It's an otherworldly thing, like when a painter gets the right combination of colors together. ~ Slash

He kissed her once more, gently and deliberately, reassuring her without words that he had no intentions of letting her go. ~ Stephanie Garber

The only wealth I'm interested in is a wealth of words. ~ Elie Wiesel

IF is a very long word in Formula One; in fact, IF is F1 spelled backwards. ~ Murray Walker