Lunstead Desk Quotes

A clean desk is a sign of a cluttered mind. ~ C.E. Murphy

Jahrling sat down at his desk and sighed. There was a landfill of papers on his desk, mostly about smallpox, and it was discouraging. On top of the heap sat a large red book with silver ~ Richard Preston

In second grade my second love wrote "I love you" on a scrap of paper and dropped it on my desk as he passed by. He was very shy and sullen. When he moved to another school at the end of the term, I was heartsick. I thought about him all summer. But I learned then that we do outgrow people and our tastes do change. One should not marry until one is older. At least ten. ~ Jane Russell

I still remember the day I got my first calculator

Teacher: All right, children, welcome to fourth grade math. Everyone take a calculator out of the bin.
Me: What are these?
Teacher: From now on we'll be using calculators.
Me: What do these things do?
Teacher: Simple operations, like multiplication and division.
Me: You mean this device just...does them? By itself?
Teacher: Yes. You enter in the problem and press equal.
Me: You...you knew about this machine all along, didn't you? This whole time, while we were going through this...this charade with the pencils and the line paper and the stupid multiplication tables!...I'm sorry for shouting...It's just...I'm a little blown away.
Teacher: Okay, everyone, today we're going to go over some word problems.
Me: What the hell else do you have back there? A magical pen that writes book reports by itself? Some kind of automatic social studies worksheet that...that fills itself out? What the hell is going on?
Teacher: If a farmer farms five acres of land a day--
Me: So that's it, then. The past three years have been a total farce. All this time I've been thinking, "Well, this is pretty hard and frustrating but I guess these are useful skills to have." Meanwhile, there was a whole bin of these things in your desk. We could have jumped straight to graphing. Unless, of course, there's some kind of graphing calculator!
Teacher: There is. You get one in nint ~ Simon Rich

I smiled, leaning over the desk and used the sweetest tone I could muster. "In my spare time I flay open bodies of the deceased. Two of whom were victims of Leather Apron. The scent that hung in the room would drop a man to his knees, and I aided my uncle during the postmortems while standing in gelled blood." I sat back in my chair, the leather squeaking its own disapproval. "Whatever you have to show us won't be too much for my stomach to handle, I assure you. ~ Kerri Maniscalco

Marci took a copy of Cosmopolitan from her desk drawer, lifted her butt from her chair, and leaned far over her desk to pass it to William, watching his eyes carefully as she did. If they went to her gaping blouse, she'd know there was a spark to kindle; if not, then he was gay and she needn't waste any further effort. At least he'd appreciate the Cosmo. "It's August's," she whispered hopefully. ~ Dennis Vickers

As he wrote, the candle in the window kept flickering, and despite his desk lamp the flickering distracted him. He sat back in the old wooden school chair he'd had since college and heard the reassuring squeak of the wood under him. At the firm he was failing to even register what was needed of him. Daily now he faced column after of column of meaningless numbers he was supposed to make square with company claims. He was making mistakes with a frequency that was frightening, and he feared, more than he had in the first days following my disappearance, that he would not be able to support his remaining children.

~pgs 135-136; Susie's father on death ~ Alice Sebold

She lengthened her stride, aware at every step of how long she'd been sitting at a desk and how much her body rejoiced in this simple act of walking on the beach in the sun. ~ Donna Leon

Oh god, Anabeth," Ellie muttered. "Your whole life is based around sex." "So?" she shot back. "It's better than having sex with fictional characters!" Ellie shot up out of my desk chair. "I do not have sex with fictional characters!" "Oh puh-lease, I've seen the books you read, all big muscley men and virginal women and steamy sex. Why else would you read that crap if not to get off? ~ Madeline Sheehan

She lifter the shade and bathed the room in silver. Moonlight glinted off the glass and metal instruments on her desk and vanished into the eaves. Moonlight skimmed over her floorboards and made Nero's eyes a shimmering green. It wasn't enough to work by. It wasn't enough to read by. But who needed to read? She knew them by heart. ~ Diana Peterfreund

Roy is my favorite security guy. He's a huge African-American gentleman who always has a beautiful smile on his face. He's the King of the Main Desk, and I'm always glad to arrive at work and bask in his magnificent good cheer. ~ Audrey Niffenegger

Happiness is a very small desk and a very big wastebasket. ~ Robert Orben

His weekly golf game no longer keeps his love handles in check, he's recently resorted to a slight comb-over to cover that growing bald spot, he squints to avoid wearing the bifocals he hides in his desk drawer, and he spends his days in an office filled with decades-old sports trophies. ~ Kelley Armstrong

She used to leave chewed pencils on her desk every single day in calculus class.
I may have picked them up.
I may have saved them.
They may still be in a drawer somewhere in my old room. ~ L.J. Shen

I take a seat behind my new desk for the first time since I've returned home.

"Shera doesn't really know my taste in decor as well as I'd hoped she would," I say as I look around, taking in my underwhelming office.

Isiah glares at the door when someone knocks.

"I've been trying to speak to you all day. You need to adjust the beta rankings on paper, because Shera was left in charge by the outdated documentation, regardless of your wishes for me to take control until your return."

"I heard you did quite well, even without the adequate authority," I state dismissively, peering into one of the drawers full of pencils. "Now why would I need a bunch of sharpened pencils?"

Shera walks in, shutting the door behind her when she grows tired of waiting for an invitation. "It was fun sharpening all of them, and that drawer looked empty."

When I open the next drawer, I find it also full of sharpened pencils.

I give her a wry look.

She shrugs unapologetically. "It was empty too."

"So you got me a desk full of pencils," I say with a roll of my eyes. ~ Kristy Cunning

I want blood! Two of Aksel's dogs cornered me near Tondara. They shot me. Those bastards actually shot a hole in my stabilizer the size of Mirala ... Aren't you going to say something? (Syn)
Were you hurt? (Nykyrian)
No. (Syn)
Then why are you having a fit? (Nykyrian)
I don't know, it just felt right. You see why I don't like being sober? I overreact like an old woman. (He opened his flask, then slammed it down on Nykyrian's desk.) Figures the damned thing would be empty. (Syn) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

At least the tears on my desk wipe away the dust that's covered this place ~ Andrew Boddie

School-boy. The spectators thou regardest as on work-days they regard each other. For thee, then, it may be well to wish thyself behind a desk, over ruled ledgers, collecting tolls, and picking out reversions. Thou feelest not the co-operating, co-inspiring ~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

I'm talking about your lovely long arms and your perfectly shaped legs... I find I am quite jealous of those stockings for knowing the feel of you, the warmth of you." She shifted, unable to keep still beneath the onslaught of his words. "I'm talking about that corset that hugs you where you are lovely and soft... is it uncomfortable?"
She hesitated. "Not usually."
"And now?" She heard the knowledge in the question.
She nodded once. "It's rather- constricting."
He tutted once, and she opened her eyes, instantly meeting his, hot and focused on her. "Poor Pippa. Tell me, with your knowledge of the human body, why do you think that is?"
She swallowed, tried for a deep breath. Failed. "It's because my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest."
The smile again. "Have you overexerted yourself?"
She shook her head. "No."
"What, then?"
She was not a fool. He was pushing her. Attempting to see how far she would go. She told the truth. "I think it is you."
He closed his eyes then, hands fisting again, and pressed his head back against the side of the desk, exposing the long column of his neck and his tightly clenched jaw. Her mouth went dry at the movement, at the way the tendons there bunched and rippled, and she was quite desperate to touch him.
When he returned his gaze to hers, there was something wild in those pewter depths... something she was at once consumed and terrified by. "You shouldn't be so quick with the truth," ~ Sarah MacLean

One of my great goals when I first started taking photographs or showing them publicly is that people might want one for over their desk. That's my goal. ~ Patti Smith

I loved journalism until the day my journalism teacher, a man I revered, came by my desk and said, 'Are you planning on going into journalism?' I said, 'Yeah.' He said, 'I wouldn't.' I said, 'Well, why not?' He said, 'You can't make a living.' ~ Ed Asner

As if reading his mind, Lily huffed. "You're as predictable as the spring rains, son of mine, and as boring as drying paint. Unless there's an emergency, you're home every night by seven, you eat dinner by yourself, go for a run, watch exactly one hour of TV by yourself, and go to bed at ten o'clock. If God ever loses his watch, he only has to look at Lance Beaufort to get back on schedule."
...
"I've been having trouble with my phone," he tried.
Lily took two strides to the desk, leaned over it with both hands braced on the surface, and stared.
"Okay, yes! I have been over there. But it's for work. And ... and it's work related!"
"Oh? Explain that to me, because I thought you were the sheriff, not in training for a role in Lassie. ~ Eli Easton

My book would come out in one language, then it would come out in another language, then it would come out in One City, One Read, and I was always being called away from my desk. ~ Sandra Cisneros

It was an age before anyone responded. Nicky was too busy gaping at Neil to say anything, and Aaron was staring at Kevin as he waited for a translation. Andrew's surprise gave way to what a fool might mistake for delight, and he leaned forward on the desk. "Wow, another one of Neil's many talents. How many can one man have? ~ Nora Sakavic

According to St. Augustine, the left hand represented the temporal, the mortal, and the bodily, as opposed to the right, which stood for "God, eternity, the years of God which fail not."25 For centuries the preference for the right hand over the left governed how people fished, ploughed fields, twisted rope, and ate their meals. The Greeks and Romans, for example, always reclined on the left side, propped on the left elbow, leaving the right hand free for the business of eating and drinking. Plutarch noted that parents taught children to eat right-handed from a young age, and "if they do put forth the left hand, at once we correct them."26 The prejudice against the left hand persisted during the Renaissance, with parents freeing a child's right hand from its swaddling clothes to ensure right-handedness at the dinner table as well as at the writing desk. ~ Ross King

Never before have I written so long a letter. I'm afraid it is much too long to take your precious time. I can assure you that it would have been much shorter if I had been writing from a comfortable desk, but what else can one do when he is alone in a narrow jail cell, other than write long letters, think long thoughts, and pray long prayers? ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

Down the hall came the wife. She was glorious, burning. She didn't know yet that her husband was dead. We knew. That's what gave her such power over us. The doctor took her into a room with a desk at the end of the hall, and from under the closed door a slab of brilliance radiated as if, by some stupendous process, diamonds were being incinerated in there. What a pair of lungs! She shrieked as I imagined an eagle would shriek. It felt wonderful to be alive to hear it! I've gone looking for that feeling everywhere. ~ Denis Johnson

My favourite place to write is at my desk in my house in the mountains of Crete. I produce more there because one big distraction is missing: the Internet. ~ Neal Asher

At five minutes to five,Jim walked into Mary's office, wearing his gray sweater and balancing four pieces of birthday cake on two plates. He put the plates down on Mary's empty desk and glanced at the doorway to Nick's office. "Where's Mary?" he asked.
"She left almost an hour ago," Lauren said. "She said to tell you that the nearest fire extinguisher is beside the elevators-whatever that means. I'll be right back.I have to take these letters in to Nick."
As she got up and started around the desk, she was looking down at the letters in her hand,and what happened next stunned her into immobility. "I miss you,darling," Jim said, quickly pulling her into his arms.
A moment later he released her so suddenly that Lauren staggered back a step. "Nick!" he said. "Look at the sweater Lauren gave me for my birthday. She made it herself.And I brought you a piece of my birthday cake-she made that too." Seemingly oblivious to Nick's thunderous countenance,he grinned and added, "I have to get back downstairs." To Lauren he said, "I'll see you later, love." And then he walked out.
In a state of shock, Lauren stared at his retreating back.She was still staring after him when Nick spun her around to face him. "You viindictive little bitch,you gave him my sweater! What else has he gotten that belongs to me?"
"What else?" Lauren repeated, her voice rising. "What are you talking about?"
His hands tightened. "Your delectiable body, my sweet.That's what I'm talking ab ~ Judith McNaught

At the lobby desk, the manager informed them that there was no room for them there either. Fieberling, who was leading-man handsome, flashed a confident grin and asked for the manager's name, telling him that his squadron's orders to lodge there had come directly from Admiral Nimitz, and he would need to advise the commander-in-chief why his order had been disobeyed. It was a bald-faced lie, but the manager nervously disappeared into his office. A minute later he came back out smiling at Fieberling as if he had just won the lottery. ~ Robert J. Mrazek

Too racy?" I asked.
She snorted. "Too asinine. For being such a brilliant woman in all other respects, apparently, she was completely flummoxed by sex. When she wrote about it, it was either all buttoned up or completely, pardon the expression,screwy. Between you and me, the letters to Willing are just sloppy and boring. The spicy bits read like old Cosmopolitans now. The rest is just simpering and scolding him for not writing in kind."
"Of course he didn't. He loved Diana."
Maxine swept a shred of paper from her desk with a quick backhand. "Oh, for heavens sake." She huffed out a breath. "The heart of a teenager. ~ Melissa Jensen

Max's scarred brow crinkled. He reached for the coffee mug on his desk. "Motive is tricky. See, what might be a good reason for me to kill someone might not be a good enough reason for you to kill someone."
Swift stared at his hands loosely clasped around his ankle. "I wouldn't. Deliberately hurt anyone."
"And my impulse is to hurt anyone who hurts you." When Swift's gaze lifted to his, Max said, "See how that works?"
He did, and while it wasn't intended as a compliment, it did warm his heart in a funny way. He managed to joke, "Why, I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me. ~ Josh Lanyon

Problem is, once I sit at my desk and put all these down on paper. I realize something vital is missing. It doesn't crystallize - no crystals, just pebbles. And I'm not transported anywhere. ~ Haruki Murakami

The light was crude. It made Artaud's eyes shrink into darkness, as they are deep-set. This brought into relief the intensity of his gestures. He looked tormented. His hair, rather long, fell at times over his forehead. He has the actor's nimbleness and quickness of gestures. His face is lean, as if ravaged by fevers. His eyes do not seem to see the people. They are the eyes of a visionary. His hands are long, long-fingered.
Beside him Allendy looks earthy, heavy, gray. He sits at the desk, massive, brooding. Artaud steps out on the platform, and begins to talk about " The Theatre and the Plague."
He asked me to sit in the front row. It seems to me that all he is asking for is intensity, a more heightened form of feeling and living. Is he trying to remind us that it was during the Plague that so many marvelous works of art and theater came to be, because, whipped by the fear of death, man seeks immortality, or to escape, or to surpass himself? But then, imperceptibly almost, he let go of the thread we were following and began to act out dying by plague. No one quite knew when it began. To illustrate his conference, he was acting out an agony. "La Peste" in French is so much more terrible than "The Plague" in English. But no word could describe what Artaud acted out on the platform of the Sorbonne. He forgot about his conference, the theatre, his ideas, Dr. Allendy sitting there, the public, the young students, his wife, professors, and directors.
His face was ~ Anais Nin

I've never sent an email in my life. My kids laugh. I often hand the phone to them and say, 'Can you text this message to somebody.' I don't even have a computer on my desk. ~ Sebastian Coe

In the two-room flat where I live in Japan, I try to take time every day to step away from the bombardment of e-mails and opportunities and papers around my desk, for an hour, and just sit on our 30-inch terrace in the sun, reading something sustaining, whether 'The Age of Innocence' or the latest by Colm Toibin. ~ Pico Iyer

It may be that I link every library to that first one - to my early childhood experience of drawing on the floor near my father's desk. A library is of course a real place, but it is also an unreal one. What happens there is mostly silent. I think I've always liked the whispering aspect of libraries, the hushing librarians and my feeling of solitude among many. ~ Siri Hustvedt

Establish a closing ritual. Know when to stop working. Try to end each work day the same way, too. Straighten up your desk. Back up your computer. Make a list of what you need to do tomorrow. ~ Daniel Kahneman

Name?" the desk clerk said to me politely, her pencil poised.
"Name," I said vaguely. I remembered, and told her.
"Age?" she asked. "Sex? Occupation?"
"Writer," I said.
"Housewife," she said.
"Writer," I said.
"I'll just put down housewife," she said. ~ Shirley Jackson

Ethan trembled, waiting for the insanity to strike him from their level, medusan gazes. Nothing happened. After a moment, he unclutched the desk edge. Perhaps then the madness that possessed galactic men, slaves to these creatures, was something only transmitted in the flesh. Some incalculable telepathic aura? Bravely, he raised his eyes again to the figures in the screen.
So. That was a woman
two women, in fact. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

What - ? In one movement, Thorne lifted her onto the desk and pressed her back against an enormous potted fern and - oh. Cress had built a thousand fantasies around their rooftop kiss, but this kiss was something new. Where before, the kiss had been gentle and protective, now there was something passionate. Determined. Cress's body dissolved into nothing but sensation. His hands burned her waist through the skirt's thin fabric. Her knees pressed against his hips, and he pulled her closer, closer, like he couldn't get her close enough. A whimper escaped her mouth, only to be swallowed by his. She heard a moan, but it could have come from either of them. ~ Marissa Meyer

President Truman had a little sign on his desk. I've always admired its philosophy. It read: THE BUCK STOPS HERE. I've envied certain people, too, the great majority of my colleagues whose sole mission in life is to attain the goal of mediocrity. They sail into a safe harbor, button up and conveniently and quietly sort their paper clips, avoiding responsibility and decisions. I can't explain, Nicole, why I was singled out and am unable to avoid conflict, but I can't run or plug my ears or close my eyes or turn my back. I often envy those who can. ~ Leon Uris

(Hunter) "conner was at his desk, tapping away at another computer. It was amazing how much he and Quinn looked alike. Quinn nudged me as if he knew what I was thinking.
"I'm cuter,"he informed me loftily. ~ Alyxandra Harvey