No Words For You Quotes

Maybe I can do some writing then. The phrase made him sick. It had no meaning anymore. Like a word that is repeated until it becomes gibberish that sentence, for him, had been used to extinction. It sounded silly; like some bit of cliché from a soap opera. Hero saying in dramatic tones – Now, by God, maybe I can do some writing. Senseless. For a moment, though, he wondered if it was true. Now that she was leaving could he forget about her and really get some work done? Quit his job? Go somewhere and hold up in a cheap furnished room and write? You have $123.89 in the bank, his mind informed him. He pretended it was the only thing that kept him from it. But, far back in his mind, he wondered if he could write anything. Often the question threw itself at him when he was least expecting it. You have four hours every morning, the statement would rise like a menacing wraith. You have time to write many thousands of words. Why don't you? And the answer was always lost in a tangle of becauses and wells and endless reasons that he clung to like a drowning man at straws.("Mad House") ~ Richard Matheson

If there's a feeling to home, it's this. A place where there are no secrets, where nothing stays buried; not the past and not yourself. Where you can be all the versions of you, see it all reflected back at you as you walk the same stairs, the same halls, the same rooms. Feel the ghost of your mother as you sit at the kitchen table, hear the words of your father circling round and round after dinner, and your brother stopping by, wishing you'd be a little better, a little stronger ... It's four walls echoing back everything you've ever been and everything you've ever done, and it's the people who stay despite it all. Through it all. For it all. ~ Megan Miranda

Be prepared. You're up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it's all over but the shouting you'll still be on your feet. Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You'll need them throughout your life. God's Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other's spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out. ~ Eugene H. Peterson

Did you forgive her?"
I looked at her with a start.
Jack dropped his salad back in the bucket. "What?"
"Did you forgive Nikki?"
"Umm,Mary,I don't think you-" I started, but Jack interrupted me.
"No,it's okay.What do you mean, Mary?" He spoke slowly. "Did I forgive Nikki for what?"
Mary frowned and reached under the separation glass and touched Jack's gloved hand. "Did you forgive her for leaving you?"
Jack's lower lip sank,and his eyebrows lifted.He looked like he was about to speak,but no words came out of his open mouth.
Mary leaned even closer and whispered, "I have a theory. A theory about anchors."
"Oh," Jack finally said,his forehead now creased with confusion. "Anchors."
The people in line behind Mary shifted impatiently.
"Um,Mary,you're holding up the line," I said. Mary looked at me as I continued. "Why don't you go grab a table,and I'll eat with you."
The tension slipped from her face. "Okay. But hurry. My tee time's at one."
She started down the line again.Jack's hand still rested in the lettuce, so I nudged him with my elbow, and he seemed to restart. "Don't worry about her," I said. "She gets confused easily."
"That wasn't confusion." Jack kept his eyes on my face as he served the salad. "It was like she knew me. Knew us.Did you talk to her about us?"
"Of course not.She also knows about anchors,apparently.And she's late for her tee time.None of it makes sense. ~ Brodi Ashton

I make this bond to you in blood, not flowers," he said. "Come with me and you shall be an empress with the moon for your throne and constellations to wear in your hair. Come with me and I promise you that we will always be equals."
My mouth went dry. A blood oath was no trifling undertaking. Vassals swore it to lords, priests to the gods. But husbands to wives? Unthinkable.
Still, Bharata's court had taught me one thing: the greater the offer, the greater the compromise. And I had neither dowry nor influence from Bharata, nothing to give but the jewels I wore.
"You're offering me the world, and you ask for nothing in return."
"I ask only for your trust and patience."
"Trust?" I repeated. "Trust is won in years. Not words. And I don't know anything about you--"
"I will tell you everything," he cut in, his voice fierce. "But we must wait until the new moon. The kingdom's close ties to the Otherworld make it dangerous grounds for the curious."
In my stories to Gauri, the new moon weakened the other realms. Starlight thinned their borders and the inhabitants lay glutted and sleepy on moonbeams. The thing is, I had always made that part up.
"Why that long?"
"Because that is when my realm is at its weakest," said Amar, confirming my imagination and sending shivers across my arms. "Until then, the hold of the other realms binds me into silence."
The night before the wedding ceremony, there was no moon in the sky. I would have to wa ~ Roshani Chokshi

I was made to protect you, female. I've claimed you, whether you accept it or not, and it's an honor that I take very seriously. If any male lays an unwanted finger on you, I will break it. If you hunger, I will feed you. If you're cold, then I will warm you with my body. If you're taken from me, then I'll track you. Never doubt my devotion to you." He gripped my head firmly. "I once gave a woman my heart, because that's all I had to give. But you, Silver, you're the pulse that keeps me alive. I was a soft man once, but no more. I don't know if you can accept the man that I've become, because all I have to offer you is my life. I want to shred Tarek apart for the fear he's made you feel when looking at me. He's made you afraid of something that is natural to my kind - an expression of my passion. My fangs are not just weapons." His voice strained and I knew.

I knew.

Denying a part of him was denying him completely. Maybe someday I could look at them without flinching, but it was too soon. They represented power and passion in his world. But in my world, they were death and pain.

I stroked his cheek and he leaned into me and closed his eyes.

"Give me time, Logan."

He slipped his hand behind the nape of my neck and brought his lips close to my ear - words melting into a soft whisper. "I'll wait for you. ~ Dannika Dark

Know your worth and love yourself in such a way that anyone who is no good for you, wont be able to reach you. ~ Nikki Rowe

Billos ran. He tore down the shore, bounded up on the rock, and dove into the air.
The warm water engulfed him. A boiling heat knocked the wind from his lungs. The shock alone might kill him.
But it was pleasure that surged through his body, not pain. The sensations coursed through his bones in great unrelenting waves.
Elyon.
How he was certain, he did not know. But he knew. Elyon was in this lake with him.
Billos opened his eyes. Gold light drifted by. He lost all sense of direction. The water pressed in on every inch of his body, as intense as any acid, but one that burned with pleasure instead of pain.
He sank into the water, opened his mouth and laughed. He wanted more, much more. He wanted to suck the water in and drink it.
Without thinking, he did just that. The liquid hit his lungs. Billos pulled up, panicked. He tried to hack the water from his lungs, but inhaled more instead. No pain. He carefully sucked more water and breathed it out slowly. Then again, deep and hard. Out with a soft whoosh. He was breathing the water!
Billos shrieked with laughter. He swam into the lake, deeper and deeper. The power contained in this lake was far greater than anything he'd ever imagined.
"I made this, Billos."
Billos whipped his body around, searching for the words' source. "Elyon?" His voice was muffled, hardly a voice at all.
"Do you like it?"
"Yes!" Billos said. He might have spoken; he might have shouted-- ~ Ted Dekker

The idea tells you everything. Lots of times I get ideas, I fall in love with them. Those ones you fall in love with are really special ideas. And, in some ways, I always say, when something's abstract, the abstractions are hard to put into words unless you're a poet. These ideas you somehow know. And cinema is a language that can say abstractions. I love stories, but I love stories that hold abstractions--that can hold abstractions. And cinema can say these difficult-to-say-in-words things. A lot of times, I don't know the meaning of the idea, and it drives me crazy. I think we should know the meaning of the idea. I think about them, and I tell this story about my first feature Eraserhead. I did not know what these things meant to me--really meant. And on that particular film, I started reading the Bible. And I'm reading the Bible, going along, and suddenly--there was a sentence. And I said, forget it! That's it. That's this thing. And so, I should know the meaning for me, but when things get abstract, it does me no good to say what it is. All viewers on the surface are all different. And we see something, and that's another place where intuition kicks in: an inner-knowingness. And so, you see a thing, you think about it, and you feel it, and you go and you sort of know something inside. And you can rely on that. Another thing I say is, if you go--after a film, withholding abstractions--to a coffee place--having coffee with your friends, someone will say something, and immed ~ David Lynch

I hope, too, that you will hear these words within your hearts, for that would be profitable. But if a thousand thieves come from outside, they cannot open the door without some fellow-thief inside who can unlock that door.
Speak a thousand words from the outside, still, so long as there is none to answer from within, the door never opens.
So too with a tree - as long as there is no moist thirst in its roots, even if you poured a thousand torrents of water over it, it would accomplish nothing. First there must be a thirst in its roots for the water to nourish it.
Although the whole world is ablaze with the sun's light, unless there is that spark of light within the eye, no one can behold that light.
The root of the matter is the receptiveness within Soul. ~ Rumi

But since death is inevitable we don't have to deal with it (it'll deal with us when it decides to). What we do have to deal with is the psychic, physical, and fusion diseases wrought during our so-called lives as byproducts of the elemental clash. In other words we're all terminally psychotic and no doctor, hospital, pill, needle, book or guru holds the cure. Because the disease is called life and there is no cure for that but death and death's just part of the set-up designed to keep you terrified and thus in bondage from the cradle to the crypt so ha ha the joke's on you except there's no punchline and the comedian forgot you ever existed as even a comma. ~ Lester Bangs

But as to your writing me that I don't love you very much, I don't know whether you're saying this in earnest or whether I should realise that you're joking with me. Still, what you say disturbs me. You are measuring a very healthy expression of a wife's loyalty by the standard of the insincere flattery of well-worn phrases. But I shall love you, my husband. What does it mean to you that you reassure me with those trivial little compliments? Do you want me to believe that you expect me to comb my hair in a stylish fashion for your homecoming? Or to feign adoring looks with a painted face? Let women without means, who worry and have no confidence in their virtue, flutter their eyelashes and play games to gain favour with their husbands. This is the adulation of a fox and the birdlime of deceitful bird hunting. I don't want to have to buy you at such a price. I'm not a person who lays more stock in words than duty. I am truly your Laura, whose soul is the same one you in turn had hoped for. ~ Laura Cereta

Then I saw the keyboard of an organ which filled one whole side of the walls. On the desk was a music-book covered with red notes. I asked leave to look at it and read, 'Don Juan Triumphant.' 'Yes,' he said, 'I compose sometimes.' I began that work twenty years ago. When I have finished, I shall take it away with me in that coffin and never wake up again.' 'You must work at it as seldom as you can,' I said. He replied, 'I sometimes work at it for fourteen days and nights together, during which I live on music only, and then I rest for years at a time.' 'Will you play me something out of your Don Juan Triumphant?' I asked, thinking to please him. 'You must never ask me that,' he said, in a gloomy voice. 'I will play you Mozart, if you like, which will only make you weep; but my Don Juan, Christine, burns; and yet he is not struck by fire from Heaven.' Thereupon we returned to the drawing-room. I noticed that there was no mirror in the whole apartment. I was going to remark upon this, but Erik had already sat down to the piano. He said, 'You see, Christine, there is some music that is so terrible that it consumes all those who approach it. Fortunately, you have not come to that music yet, for you would lose all your pretty coloring and nobody would know you when you returned to Paris. Let us sing something from the Opera, Christine Daae.' He spoke these last words as though he were flinging an insult at me."

"What did you do?"

"I had no time to think about ~ Gaston Leroux

I don't change the language for children books. I don't make the language simpler. I use words that they might have to look up in the dictionary. The books are shorter, but there's just not that much difference other than that to be honest. And the funny thing is, I have adult writer friends [to whom I would say], "Would you think of writing a children's book?" and they go, "No, God, I wouldn't know how." They're quite intimidated by the concept of it. And when I say to children's books writers, would they write an adult book, they say no because they think they're too good for it. ~ John Boyne

Is the Word the same as God, do you think?"
Pick looked at her some more.
"Well, you don't think there's more than one God, do you?" Nest began to rush her words. "I mean, you don't think that the Word and God and Mother Nature are all different beings? You don't think they're all running around making different things--like God makes humans and the Word makes forest creatures and Mother Nature makes trees? Or that Allah is responsible for one race and one part of the world and Buddha is responsible for some others? You don't think that, do you?"
Pick stared.
"Because all these different countries and all these different races have their own version of God. Their religions teach them who their God is and what He believes. Sometimes the different versions even hold similar beliefs. But no one can agree on whose God is the real God. Everyone insists that everyone else is wrong. But unless there is more than one God, what difference does it make? If there's only one God and He made everything, then what is the point of arguing over whether to call him God or the Word or whatever? It's like arguing over who owns the park. The park is for everyone. ~ Terry Brooks

No one will argue that writing is an easy profession. Getting someone to pay you for your words isn't easy. But there are strategies you can use to simplify the process and transform what you can produce. ~ Ryan Holiday

No. You said so yourself: a bet's a bet. After the month's up, you'll be off with Parker, he'll become a doctor, you'll get married and have your two-point-five children and I'll never see you again." He grimaced at his own words. "I still have three weeks. I'm not giving that up for lunch room gossip. ~ Jamie McGuire

And look, my brother, we learned to talk
very quietly and simply.
We understand each other now - there is no need for anything more.
And I say tomorrow we will become still simpler;
we'll find those words that take on the same weight in all hearts, on all lips so that we can call figs figs, and a trough a trough, so that others will smile and say: 'We're making you a hundred poems an hour'. This is what we want too.
Because we do not sing to separate ourselves from people, my brother,
we sing to bring people together. ~ Yiannis Ritsos

In other words, you'll pretend to be someone else in order to snag a husband."
"Oh, for heaven's sake," she said defensively, "it's no different than what half the women in society do to catch a man. I don't want to waste my time in pointless flirtation when a little knowledge will improve my aim on the targets."
He flashed her a condescending smile.
"What is it?" she snapped.
"Only you would approach courtship as a marksman approaches a shooting match." He licked the tip of his pencil. "So who are these hapless targets?"
"The Earl of Devonmont, the Duke of Lyons, and Fernandez Valdez, the Viscount de Basto."
His jaw dropped. "Are you insane?"
"I know they're rather beyond my reach, but they seem to like my company-"
"I daresay they do!" He strode up to her, strangely angry. "The earl is a rakehell with a notorious reputation for trying to get beneath the skirts of every woman he meets. The duke's father was mad, and it's said to run in his family, which is why most women steer clear of him. And Basto is a Portuguese idiot who's too old for you and clearly trawling for some sweet young thing to nurse him in his declining years."
"How can you say such things? The only one you know personally is Lord Devonmont, and you barely know even him."
"I don't have to. Their reputations tell me they're utterly unacceptable."
Unacceptable? Three of the most eligible bachelors in London? Mr. Pinter was mad, not her. "Lord Devonmont is ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Detecting a note of inordinate concern for the young woman, Fred quizzed, "Could it be that our pretty little rabbit has caught the hunter's heart?"
Rider felt distinctly uncomfortable under Fred's all-too-knowing eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. This is a job, not a honeymoon!"
"Why,you're in love with her, aren't you?"
"Hell,no! What gave you that half-cocked idea?"
"You objected too fast." Fred smiled.
"How could I love a woman like her? For God's sake, Fred, she acts more like a man than a woman. It's just that..." Rider rubbed at the back of his neck. "Damn, the woman walks around naked under that shirt of hers, jiggling and bouncing. Naturally, I'm attracted. You would be, too! But believe me, Fred, lust is all I feel for her."
"You got it bad, my friend." Fred chuckled. "When we get done talking here, I suggest you take Annie over there"-he jerked his head toward a brunette-"upstairs for a good romp in the sack."
"Maybe I should.I've tried to avoid Willow but just thinking about her gets me randy."
Even as he mouthed the words, Rider knew he would not do as Fred suggested. There was only one woman who could cure his ache and, unfortunately for him, no other would do. ~ Charlotte McPherren

What do you envision for your future, Anna?"
His abrupt question struck a nerve in me. It was the same question I'd been asking myself for months.
"I don't know," I said. "I used to know what I wanted, but not anymore."
He considered this, watching me with curiosity. "What did you want?"
I reached down and touched the water. "A family, mostly."
"And you no longer want that?"
I dried my hands on my jeans, trying not to get emotional. At one time, I wanted a loving husband and a houseful of kids more than anything in the world. But I'd let go of those dreams. I couldn't even adopt a child. What would the Dukes say if they caught me playing house?
"I can't have those things," I told him, still avoiding his stare. "And I'm tired of wanting things I can't have."
His voice was low when he responded. "Perhaps children are out of the question, but you could still have a husband, in secret."
My eyes flew up to his, and my skin sizzled as his words settled over me. I opened my mouth, but couldn't speak. His light eyes played chicken with mine, not backing down from his claim.
"It's too dangerous," I said.
"You are young." He didn't state it in a condescending way, but I still bristled. "Someday you may agree that there are dangers worth facing."
I swallowed, wishing my crazy heart would stop trying to break out of my rib cage. ~ Wendy Higgins

Never, ever apologize if you haven't done anything wrong. Keep your sorrys and your excuse mes and your please forgive mes, above all keep your please, please forgive mes for the one moment in life when you'll really need them, need those words. And you will be in dire need of entreaties like these, oh you will be praying for those words, blessing yourself for not having wasted them on something spurious and unworthy. You will someday be kneeling, kneeling down in front of a pair of accusing eyes, threatening feet, feet that might kick you or feet that might do something worse. At times what we should dread most are feet that will run away, that will run away and leave us everlastingly alone. Loneliness is what should terrify you most, more than a slap or a kick or hunger even. And that's when those words, please, please forgive me, will be all that separates you from the pit and swamp of the deepest despair. So don't squander them on matters of no consequence. The world is cursed because people do not apologize for theirs sins or crimes or merely their cowardice, but it's even more cursed because people apologize much too much-- they use their regrets as a way of not really probing what the have done, as permission to persevere in their blindness, absolving themselves without having atoned or understood. ~ Ariel Dorfman

Then he was striding toward me. His mesmerizing gaze pinned me in place as he cupped my face. When his lips covered mine, I gasped. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, groaning into the contact. His hands tightened on my face. His sexy groans made my toes curl, muddling my thoughts.
Block that out! I was Aric's wife. I'd wronged him in the past, had consigned him to misery for hundreds - no, thousands - of years. I needed to make this right. Like penance.
There was something vaguely threatening about his words. Misgivings about this arose. Too fast.
"If you have feelings for him, fight them," Aric commanded me. "By going to him, you'd be stoking them once more. Don't you understand? He can find another woman - I cannot. If you choose him, you'll be consigning me to a hellish fate. As you've done again and again. No, this will be even worse, because I've had a greater glimpse of what I'll be missing."

"I just want to talk to him. I'm leaving this weekend," I said in an unwavering voice.

"No, you will not." His arrogant demeanor back in place, he said, "Understand me, I'm not surrendering the one woman who was born for me alone. Not to a human, not to anyone."

"You can't keep me here against my will any longer. What are you going to do? Put that cuff back on me?"
I held up my hand to stop him. "I understand why you did it. But I won't be a prisoner anymore."

He snatched up his shirt, threading his arms into ~ Kresley Cole

One must die lovable (if one can). You are moved by this sentence, especially by the words in parentheses, which demonstrate a rare sensitivity of spirit, you feel, a hard-won understanding of how difficult it is to be lovable, especially for someone who is old, who is sinking into decrepitude and must be cared for by others. If one can. There is probably no greater human achievement than to be lovable at the end, ~ Paul Auster

I had a head for religious ideas. They were the first ideas I ever encountered. They made other ideas seem mean ... I had miles of Bible in memory: some perforce, but most by hap, like the words to songs. There was no corner of my brain where you couldn't find, among the files of clothing labels and heaps of rocks, among the swarms of protozoans and shelves of novels, whole tapes and snarls and reels of Bible. ~ Annie Dillard

Why lily?"
"It's the most sacred and beautiful of all flowers in Egypt. They bloom in mud and shine in the darkness like a gift from the gods to remind you that no matter how bad something is, it will get better. That no matter how dark the night, the light will come for you. If you partake of them, they have the power to calm and soothe you, and to heal your wounds." When he spoke his next words, they were laced with emotion and sincerity. "You are, and will always be, my sšn. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

You know, I've always thought that we don't have enough words for love. Or maybe it's that we don't use the words we have. For instance, infatuation. No one ever says, 'I'm so infatuated.' Which, if you think about it is the first stage of a relationship. Infatuation. ~ Marshall Thornton

Sebastian nodded his way. "This is Hadrian … er, Hadrian…" He snapped his fingers and looked for help.

"Blackwater." He extended his hand and shook with each.

"And where do you hail from, Hadrian?" Eugene asked.

"Nowhere really."

"A man with no home?" Samuel's voice was nasal and a bit suspicious. Hadrian imagined him the type of man to count money handed him by a priest.

"What do you mean?" Eugene asked. "He came off the boat from Calis. We talked about it just last night."

"Don't be a fool, Eugene," Sebastian said. "Do you think Calians have sandy hair and blue eyes? Calians are swarthy brutes and clever beyond measure. Never trust one, any of you."

"What were you doing in Calis, then?" Eugene's tone was inquisitorial and spiteful, as if Hadrian had been the one to declare him foolish.

"Working."

"Making his fortune, I suspect," Sebastian said, motioning toward Hadrian. "The man wears a heavy purse. You should be half as successful, Eugene."

"All Calian copper dins, I'll wager." Eugene sustained his bitter tone. "If not, he'd have a fine wool robe like us."

"He wears a fine steel sword, two of them in fact. So you might consider your words more carefully," Sebastian said.

"Three," Samuel added. "He keeps another in his cabin. A big one."

"There you have it, Eugene. The man spends all his coin on steel, but by all means g ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Even faith in God is only a stage on the way. Ultimately you abandon all, for you come to something so simple that there are no words to express it. ~ Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

I'll bet you want to know how a person like Stocky can be thrown into a debtors' prison, something this country outlawed about two hundred years ago. Right?" Samantha slowly nodded. Mattie continued, "More than likely, you're also certain that throwing someone in jail because he cannot pay a fine or a fee violates the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. And, you are no doubt familiar with the 1983 Supreme Court decision, the name escapes me right now, in which the Court ruled that before a person can be thrown in jail for not paying a fine it must be proven that he or she was willfully not paying. In other words, he could pay but he refused. All this and more, right? ~ John Grisham

If you're John Muir you want trees to
live among. If you're Emily, a garden
will do.
Try to find the right place for yourself.
If you can't find it, at least dream of it.
When one is alone and lonely, the body
gladly lingers in the wind or the rain,
or splashes into the cold river, or
pushes through the ice-crusted snow.
Anything that touches.
God, or the gods, are invisible, quite
understandable. But holiness is visible,
entirely.
Some words will never leave God's mouth,
no matter how hard you listen. ~ Mary Oliver

Yet what moved Our Blessed Lord to invective was not badness but just such self-righteousness as this…He said that the harlots and the Quislings would enter the Kingdom of Heaven before the self-righteous and the smug. Concerning all those who endowed hospitals and libraries and public works, in order to have their names graven in stone before their fellow men, He said, "Amen I say to you, they have received their reward" (Matt. 6:2). They wanted no more than human glory, and they got it. Never once is Our Blessed Lord indignant against those who are already, in the eyes of society, below the level of law and respectability. He attacked only the sham indignation of those who dwelt more on the sin than the sinner and who felt pleasantly virtuous, because they had found someone more vicious than they. He would not condemn those whom society condemned; his severe words were for those who had sinned and had not been found out…He would not add His burden of accusation to those that had already been hurled against the winebibbers and the thieves, the cheap revolutionists, the streetwalkers, and the traitors. They were everybody's target, and everybody knew that they were wrong…And the people who chose to make war against Our Lord were never those whom society had labeled as sinners. Of those who sentenced Him to death, none had ever had a record in the police court, had ever been arrested, was ever commonly known to be fallen or weak. But among his friends, who sorrowed at His deat ~ Fulton J. Sheen

HUSAM

There is a way of passing away from the personal, a dying that makes one plural. A

gnat lights in buttermilk to become nourishment for many.
Your soul is like that, Husam.

Hundreds of thousands of impressions from the invisible world are eagerly wanting

to come through you! I get dizzy with the abundance. When life is this dear, it

means the source is pulling us. Freshness comes from there.
We're given the gift of

continuously dying and being resurrected, ocean within ocean.
The body's death now to me

is like going to sleep. No fear of drowning, I'm in another water. Stones don't dissolve

in rain. This is the end of the fifth book of the Masnavi.
With constellations in the night sky,

some look up and point. Others can be guided by the arrangements: the Sagittarian

bow piercing enemies, the Water Jar soaking fruit trees, the Bull plowing and sowing its

truth, the Lion tearing darkness open to red satin. Use these words to change. Be kind

and honest, and harmful poisons will turn sweet inside you. ~ Rumi

Tibet's Sky Burial
In Tibet cold makes it hard to pierce the earth
and wood, like air, is rare,
Death is no occasion for woe, but mirth -
So you're cut up into tiny tidbits bare.
They leave you chopped up upon a mountaintop,
your corpse ambrosial alms for the circling birds.
You ate crow all your life, now the crow eats you.

In Tibet, everything comes full circle,
our lives, our deaths, our words. ~ Beryl Dov

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, Joe holding Fiona's hand, Fiona sniffling. No flowery words, no platitudes passed between them. Joe would have done anything to ease her suffering, but he knew nothing he might do, or say, could. Her grief would run its course, like a fever, and release her when it was spent. He would not shush her or tell her it was God's will and that her da was better off. That was rubbish and they both knew it. When something hurt as bad as this, you had to let it hurt. There were no shortcuts. ~ Jennifer Donnelly

Ever since he'd set eyes on Elizabeth Cameron he'd been blind-no, he corrected himself with furious self-disgust, in England he'd recognized instinctively what she was-gentle and proud, brave and innocent and…rare. He'd known damned well she wasn't a promiscuous little flirt, yet he'd later convinced himself she was, and then he'd treated her like one here-and she had endured it the entire time she'd been here! She had let him say those things to her and then tried to excuse his behavior by blaming herself for behaving like "a shameless wanton" in England!
Bile rose up in his throat, suffocating him, and he closed his eyes. She was so damned sweet, and so forgiving, that she even did that for him.
Duncan hadn't moved; in taut silence he watched his nephew standing at the window, his eyes clenched shut, his stance like that of a man who was being stretched on the rack.
Finally Ian spoke, and his voice was rough with emotion, as if the words were being gouged out of him: "Did the woman say that, or was that your own opinion?"
"About what?"
Drawing a ragged breath, he asked, "Did she tell you that Elizabeth was in love with me two years ago, or was that your opinion?"
The answer to that obviously meant so much to Ian that Duncan almost smiled. At the moment, however, the vicar was more concerned with the two things he wanted above all else: He wanted Ian to wed Elizabeth and rectify the damage he'd done to her, and he wanted Ian to reconcile with hi ~ Judith McNaught

Epistle to Miss Blount, On Her Leaving the Town, After the Coronation"

As some fond virgin, whom her mother's care
Drags from the town to wholesome country air,
Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwillingly she must sever,
Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
Not that their pleasures caused her discontent,
She sighed not that They stayed, but that She went.
She went, to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
Old-fashioned halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks,
She went from Opera, park, assembly, play,
To morning walks, and prayers three hours a day;
To pass her time 'twixt reading and Bohea,
To muse, and spill her solitary tea,
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire;
Up to her godly garret after seven,
There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
Some Squire, perhaps, you take a delight to rack;
Whose game is Whisk, whose treat a toast in sack,
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
Then gives a smacking buss, and cries – No words!
Or with his hound comes hollowing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a t ~ Alexander Pope

What matters is only what's here. I touch my skin right under my breasts, which is where the little one's curled, and where he kicks, 'cause he has to. Like, he don't feel so cosy no more. Here, can you feel it? I reckon he wants me to talk to him. He can hear me inside, for sure. He can hear every note of this silvery music.
It ripples all around him, wave after wave. I can tell that it's starting to sooth him. It's so full of joy, of delight, even if to him, it's coming across somewhat muffled. Like a dream in a dream, it's floating inside, into his soft, tender ear.
I close my eyes and hold myself, wrapping my arms real soft - around me around him - and I rock ever so gently, back and forth, back and forth, with every note of this silvery marvel. You can barely hear me - but here I am, singing along. I'm whispering words into myself, into him. ~ Uvi Poznansky

The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because you will not allow them to fetter that independence which is the most important quality that a reader can possess. After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day; but is Hamlet a better play than Lear? Nobody can say. Each must decide that question for himself. To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries. Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions-there we have none. ~ Virginia Woolf

Now people are so concerned with virtue and innocence that they are blinded to the fact that when people get together, sex happens. We are held by societal standards that the body needs to be covered up and that we need to speak in prim and proper tones and words. Why, back in my day, clothing was optional! If you didn't want to wear trousers, you didn't have to! It was okay to go out and for everyone to see your( ... )dedication to freeing your spirit from the confines of rigid morals and ethics that had no bearing on who we were as individuals and as a whole. ~ T.J. Klune

I wanted to tell him then how loneliness can become a tangible thing, after a while. It's something that you carry with you on your shoulder, hold up like a friend with a twisted ankle. It sits with you and walks the streets with you. It's a selfish thing and it refuses to let go or even split its attention. Of course, like a particularly annoying itch, you can convince yourself for a while that it's not there. You can go to libraries and sit with friends and drink more coffee than your body can handle and you can feel surrounded and happy. But eventually you have to scratch it. Loneliness steals you away from the world, as if you've been cut loose and you're lost, untethered, somewhere far above everyone else. Just you and this feeling that you just need someone to put a hand on your shoulder and turn you around, to look at you and tell you the three words that matter most: You're not alone. Don't be scared. I am here. It's not about love or lust or any other inadequate word; it's about being touched and realising that you are no longer by yourself. ~ Chloe Rattray

Listen, I noticed you haven't brought your swimsuit home yet. I hope you're not still getting in the water. It's too cold for swimming, Emma."
I do my own laundry. Digging around in my drawers is the only way she could have "noticed" anything missing. Does she also look for condoms or other incriminating evidence moms usually scavenge for? Does she come home to scavenge? The thought tickles my temper. Making a mental note to by a new bathing suit strictly for Galen's house, I say, "You're telling me this? You know how cold-natured I am." My laugh is loud enough to be suspicious, but Mom doesn't seem to notice. Rachel smirks though.
"Don't try to tell me you and Galen haven't figured out how to stay warm in the water."
"Mom!"
"Just promise you won't get in the water," she says, her voice tight again. "I don't need you getting sick."
"Fine. I promise."
"And be home before dawn this time. I dare you to bring home anything less than an A on your report card after this. I double dog dare you."
I mouth the words into the phone as she says them; you'd think she'd at least change the wording after all these years. It's her go-to threat for just about everything. But somehow, it doesn't work this time. There's no bluster behind it. She's getting soft lately, and I think it has to do with the night I accused her of adopting me. ~ Anna Banks

Adam's reply reflects his fear, as well as a note of deep sorrow. But there's no confession. Adam seems to have realized that it was pointless to try to plead innocence, but neither did he make a full confession. What he did was try to pass off the blame. He immediately pointed the finger at the one closest to him: Eve.
Also implicit in Adam's words (The Woman whom YOU gave) was an accusation against God. So quickly did sin corrupt Adam's mind that in his blame shifting, he did not shy away from making God Himself an acessary to the crime. This is so typical of sinners seeking to exonerate themselves that the New Testament epistle of James expressly instructs us, "Let no one say when he is tempted, "I am tempted by God"; for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone. But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed"James 1:13. Adam, however, was subtly trying to put at least some of the blame on God himself. ~ John F. MacArthur Jr.

What did I do now?" He reluctantly pulled the car the curb.

I needed to get out of this car – like now. I couldn't breathe.

I unbuckled and flung open the door.

"Thanks for the ride. Bye."

I slammed the door shut and began down the sidewalk. Behind me, I heard the engine turn off and his door open and shut. I quickened my stride as James jogged up to me. I slowed down knowing I couldn't escape his long legs anyway. Plus, I didn't want to get home all sweaty and have to explain myself.

"What happened?" James asked, matching my pace.

"Leave me alone!" I snapped back. I felt his hand grab my elbow, halting me easily.

"Stop," he ordered.

Damn it, he's strong!

"What are you pissed about now?" He towered over me. I was trapped in front of him, if he tugged a bit, I'd be in his embrace.

"It's so funny huh? I'm that bad? I'm a clown, I'm so funny!" I jerked my arm, trying to break free of his grip. "Let me go!"

"No!" He squeezed tighter, pulling me closer.

"Leave me alone!" I spit the words like venom, pulling my arm with all my might.

"What's your problem?" James demanded loudly. His hand tightened on my arm with each attempt to pull away. My energy was dwindling and I was mentally exhausted. I stopped jerking my arm back, deciding it was pointless because he was too strong; there was no way I could pull my arm back without first kneeing him ~ Sarah Tork

Fallon," he whispers, moving his lips slowly across mine. "Thank you for this beautiful gift." As soon as his words brush over my mouth, he covers me in a deep kiss. My whole body tenses from the burst of pain that ripples through me as he pushes inside of me, but the perfection of the way we fit together makes the pain a mere inconvenience. It's beautiful. He's beautiful. And somehow, with the way he's looking down at me, I even believe I'm beautiful. He presses his mouth against my ear and whispers, "No combination of written words could ever do this moment justice. ~ Colleen Hoover

The most important stuff, what was closest to the bone, was just what you never talked about. There were no words for it ... The trivial and silly is what you spend your day chatting about. You could ask your friends how they liked your hair, but you could never ask them what you really wanted to know: Is there hope for me, yes or no? ~ Mick Cochrane

3But p sexual immorality and all impurity or covetousness q must not even be named among you, as is proper among saints. 4Let there be r no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, s which are out of place, but instead t let there be thanksgiving. 5For you may be sure of this, that u everyone who is sexually immoral or impure, or who is covetous ( v that is, an idolater), has no inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God. 6 w Let no one x deceive you with empty words, for because of these things y the wrath of God comes upon z the sons of disobedience. 7Therefore a do not become partners with them; 8for b at one time you were c darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. d Walk as children of light 9(for e the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), 10and f try to discern ~ Anonymous

Go to sleep. You look awful." I stood.
"Leaving so soon?"
"I was told not to tire you out." I looked at him. I would have wagered he couldn't lift his head if he had to.
He could have died.
"I'm glad you're going to be all right." Weak words, insufficient for the relief I felt, but I'd never claimed to be any kind of poet.
He smirked. "Glad enough to get me some chocolate?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. No, not glad enough to fetch and carry for him. "I bet the bureaucrat out there would do that for you."
Was that panic that flared in his eyes? "Amanda is out there?"
It amused me that he knew exactly who I'd been referring to. Assuming that was her name. "Want me to send her in?"
"Not if you hold the slightest affection for me in that cold, hard heart of yours."
"Now that'll take some serious self-examination," I said, opening the door.
"What, no good-bye kiss?" he protested.
"Don't tempt me, Stallion." And because I was tired and light-headed with relief, I blew one at him before I left. ~ Moira J. Moore

You said that not every problem can be solved by the end of a sword. I have carried those words with me for days... Since you made me realize that I am no longer a weapon to be wielded by another. ~ Brigid Kemmerer

She: Do you always enjoy your struggle?

Me: Yes I do! There is no other meaningful way of living my life. My struggle to give voice to my thoughts is exhilarating. My struggle to channelize my thoughts to an audience is amazingly fulfilling. To write my feelings in words is greatly liberating. It is like my mind has all these thoughts and ideas that need to be shared with the esteemed audience!

She: What is your purpose of being a writer?

Me: A writer's life is a lonely life. The loneliness gives me time to be with myself. I am most happy when I am with myself. This loneliness is like my true existence. I don't need to search for a meaning in life. I have my struggle. I have a purpose. My reason for existence is my struggle to be a writer. ~ Avijeet Das

If you open a book and find that the writer is trying to impress you with his knowledge of long, unusual words or by his use of foreign phrases, close the book quickly with no sense of loss or of deficiency or of having missed anything; for the author has not learned how to write and perhaps never will, and there is no need for you to offer yourself as a sounding board for his incompetence. ~ Burton Rascoe

The ones who are always on your side, or so they think, are the ones who keep you down. Everything they do keeps you down. They'll forgive you for anything. Rob, rape, pillage, and kill, and they'll defend you to yourself. They understand all outrages, and all your failings and faults, too. Perfect! You can go on that way forever. What do they care? Excuse me: they do care. They want it that way.
How would they make a living, these servants of the poor, if there were no poor? What enabled me to rise above all the people who don't know enough to come in out of the rain is that one day I looked face to face at a man who hated half of everything I was and had the courage to tell me so. I remember his very words. He said, 'What you're doing is hideous--a perfect way to die young. Unless you want to live sweetly only in the hereafter, you ought to learn how to do the right thing.'" The doctor stopped what he was doing, dropped his hand to his sides, and looked directly at Peter Lake. "I hate the poor. Look what they do to themselves. How could you not hate them, unless you thought that they should be like this. ~ Mark Helprin

No one said a word for some time. Everyone stared at Hadrian in wonder, including Albert, whose mouth hung agape.

It was the duchess who finally found words to sum up their collective thoughts. "Well, aren't you just an astonishment topped with surprises! ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.
Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.
Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.
No one ever said elves are nice.
Elves are bad. ~ Terry Pratchett

His Omnipotence means power to do all that is intrinsically possible, not to do the intrinsically impossible. You may attribute miracles to Him, but not nonsense. There is no limit to His power.
If you choose to say, 'God can give a creature free will and at the same time withhold free will from it,' you have not succeeded in saying anything about God: meaningless combinations of words do not suddenly acquire meaning simply because we prifex to them the two other words, 'God can.'
It remains true that all things are possible with God: the intrinsic impossibilities are not things but nonentities. It is no more possible for God than for the weakest of His creatures to carry out both of two mutually exclusive alternatives; not because His power meets an obstacle, but because nonsense remains nonsense even when we talk it about God. ~ C.S. Lewis

Nope.' He grabs my hand and places it over his heart. 'I already know the truth. We're dating.' His eyebrows waggle. 'Exclusively.'
'Gross.'
'Do you want to wear my letterman's jacket?'
'I'm going to vomit.'
'"Should I buy you a corsage?'
'Seriously. Gagging.'
'Okay, no corsage.' He laughs. 'Just the matching tattoos, then?'
'Seriously.' I fight the urge to stomp my foot. 'Let it go, Parker. Let it go.'
'Hey, Elsa, don't quote Frozen to me unless you're prepared to listen to the entire soundtrack in my car on the way to Seaport.' I stare up at him. 'I'm not sure whether I should be disturbed or turned on by the fact that you know all the words to Let It Go.'
He grins. 'Definitely turned on.'
'Downloaded in your iTunes library, no doubt.' I shake my head. 'This is nearly as disturbing as the time I learned the song A Whole New World from Aladdin is a metaphor for mind-blowing sex.'
'I'm sorry, what?'
'I can open your eyes? Lead you wonder by wonder? Over, sideways, and under?' I snort. 'Come on. That's basically soft-core porn.'
'Thank you, Zoe, for ruining a beloved Disney classic for me.'
'Anytime.'
'For the record…' He trails off.
I wince, anticipating the worst. 'What?'
'I'll take you on my magic carpet ride any time you
want, snookums.'
'Pass.'
'So, that's a no on rubbing my lamp then?'
'You know, I think I'll just find my own way to Nate's…' I turn an ~ Julie Johnson

In other words, an entire new world is pointed to, by this. The name for it is neither art, for it has no form, nor religion. What is it? I have pondered this pin unceasingly, yet cannot fathom it. We evidently lack the work for an object like this. So you are right, Robert. It is authentically a new thing on the face of the world ~ Philip K. Dick

A 'career woman,'" Sylvie said, as if the two words had no place in the same sentence. "A spinster," she added, contemplating the word. Ursula wondered why her mother was working so hard to rile her. "Perhaps you will never marry," Sylvie said, as if in conclusion, as if Ursula's life was as good as over. "Would that be such a bad thing? 'The unmarried daughter,'" Ursula said, tucking into an iced fancy. "It was good enough for Jane Austen. ~ Kate Atkinson

Big Idea
Your days are your life in miniature. As you live your hours, so you create your years. As you live your days, so you craft your life. What you do today is actually creating your future. The words you speak, the thoughts you think, the food you eat and the actions you take are defining your destiny - shaping who you are becoming and what your life will stand for. Small choices lead to giant consequences over time. There's no such thing as an unimportant day. ~ Robin S. Sharma

He approached her, his voice taking on a seductive tenor. "Shall we seal it with a kiss, then?"
Callie caught her breath and stiffened at the question. Ralston smiled at her obvious nerves. He ran a finger along the edge of her hairline, tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear gently. She looked up at him with her wide brown eyes, and he felt a burst of tenderness in his chest. He leaned close, moving slowly, as though she might scare at any moment, and his firm mouth brushed across hers, settling briefly, barely touching before she jumped back, one hand flying to her lips.
He leveled her with a frank gaze and waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he asked, "Is there a problem?"
"N-No!" she said, a touch too loudly. "Not at all, my lord. That is- Thank you."
His breath exhaled on a half laugh. "I'm afraid that you have mistaken the experience." He paused, watching the confusion cross her face. "You see, when I agree to something, I do it wholeheartedly. That was not the kiss for which you came, little mouse."
Callie wrinkled her nose at his words, and at the nickname he had used for her. "It wasn't?"
"No."
Her nervousness flared, and she resumed toying with her cloak tassel. "Oh, well. It was quite nice. I find I am quite satisfied that you have held up your end of our bargain."
"Quite nice isn't what you should be aiming for," he said, taking her restless hands into his own and allowing his voice to deepen. "Neither should the ~ Sarah MacLean

Then she yelled at him. "Are out of your mind? You could have been killed!" Kor looked stunned for a moment, then grinned. "You mean you'd care?" "No." Then at his pointed look, she muttered, "Maybe a little." "You're mine whether you've said the mating words or not. No one touches what is mine. ~ Eve Langlais

As I said, you have mistaken me for another. London is full of drab little peahens, sir. Now, then, I'm leaving," she said in a huff.
"To change?" he asked, unable to stop from goading her.
"To write a poem for my toast," she snapped. "And you may suffer, for I will not help you with yours."
"No need, darling," Matthew drawled, his words intending to push her away.
"I doubt you know a suitable word that will rhyme with fuck. "
"Stuck," she said, turning to face him. "For two days, my lord. We are stuck with one another. Let us make the best of it."
"And how do you propose we do that?"
"By giving each other wide berth. We will not stand together, we will not talk to one another and we will most certainly not look at one another."
"No problem from this quarter."
"Good. You may be assured that it will be no difficulty for me, either."
-Matthew and Jane ~ Charlotte Featherstone

When words & manners leave you no space for yourself
make
very personal
very clear
& your obstructions will join you or disappear. ~ Ntozake Shange

Doth some one say that there be gods above? There are not; no, there are not. Let no fool, Led by the old false fable, thus deceive you. Look at the facts themselves, yielding my words No undue credence: for I say that kings Kill, rob, break oaths, lay cities waste by fraud, And doing thus are happier than those Who live calm pious lives day after day All divinity Is built-up from our good and evil luck. ~ Euripides

You are not responsible for how people feel or react when you say no to them. You are only responsible for your word; your "no" or your "yes. ~ Nesta Jojoe Erskine

I wish to pay my debt. To give you the night I owe' ...
'Oh, Charlotte. You play with fire.'
'Do I?'
Roman looked at the woman in front of him, calm and collected, but there was heat there, such precious heat that was straining. Offering.
It took only one second for the words to form and emerge. 'Consider the debt of the night wiped free.'
He saw her blink. Stunned.
Watched the disappointment form. He felt nearly giddy as her disappointment form.
'What, but-'
'But what?' He smiled, loving the look on her face, even the desire that was slowly shuttering - for he would obliterate those shutters with his next words. 'You think I am freeing you? ... I am a selfish man.'
'A selfish man takes what is offered to him.' Was that doubt in her voice, doubt of her charms?
'No, a selfish man destroys what is offered to him and demands more. He demands everything. ~ Anne Mallory

Julie was downright giddy about the fully paid trip, and my promised shopping spree with the black Am Ex card that Omar gifted to me with the words, "Whatever makes you happy. There is no limit to this card, and there is no limit to what I would give you for the joy you've brought to my life." Needless to say, not only did I squeal, but when I told Julie, she fell off her chair. ~ Jessica Brooke

Have you…"
"Have I what?" Gray prompted, promptly kicking himself for doing so. God only knew what she'd ask now. Or what damn fool thing he'd say in response.
"Have you ever seen a Botticelli? Painting, I mean. A real one, in person?"
The breath he'd been holding whooshed out of him. "Yes."
"Oh." She bit her lip. "What was it like?"
"I…" His hand gestured uselessly. "I haven't words to describe it."
"Try."
Her eyes were too clear, too piercing. He swallowed and shifted his gaze to a damp lock of hair curling at her temple "Perfect. Luminous. So beautiful, your chest aches. And so smooth, like glass. Your fingers itch to touch it."
"But you can't."
"No," he said quietly, his gaze sliding back to meet hers. "It isn't allowed."
"And you care what others will allow?" She took a step toward him, her fingers trailing along the grooved tabletop. "What if you were alone, and there was no one to see? Would you touch it then?"
Gray shook his head and dropped his gaze to his hands. "It's not…" He paused, picking over his words like fruits in an island market. Testing and discarding twice as many as he chose. "There's a varnish, you see. Some sort of gloss. If I touched it with these rough hands, I'd mar it somehow. Make it a bit less beautiful. Couldn't live with myself then."
"So-" She leaned one hip against the table's edge, making her whole body one sinuous, sweeping curve. Gray sucked in a lungful of heat. "It isn't the ru ~ Tessa Dare

He is the straight to video sequel to your summer hit movie. He is the verse to that song on the radio you have to hum cause you can't remember the words. You couldn't break this kid's heart, he is so far beyond that. This is the kind of kid who blew out the candles on hope all alone for too many birthdays to remember. And no one has ever fallen in love with anyone with a smile that's dripping with "please die". ~ Pete Wentz

You have to be a responsible adult and support yourself because no one else is going to do it for you. ~ Susane Colasanti

While it has been clear that right and wrong is nonexistent, I can't say that the concept of 'right or wrong' isn't needed. Because of ignorance, we still need authorities to set up rules and say 'vandalism is wrong, killing is wrong, et cetera.'

People ask, "So, vandalism isn't wrong? Killing isn't wrong?" I answer, "Uneducated people say that vandalism is wrong. More educated people say that vandalism destroys the things that many people have spent their lives making. Uneducated people say that killing is wrong. More educated people say that killing takes away the only thing that matters which is lives." The more educated people are, the freer they will be, and the words 'right or wrong' won't be needed anymore.

There was a bomb again in Brussels yesterday. I laughed. In the past, we had tyrannies because people didn't know what they could do and what they couldn't do. Now, we have democracy. Do we deserve democracy? Do we deserve freedom? No, we don't deserve freedom. We certainly don't deserve democracy. People are still voting for Donald Trump. And people still bomb other people. And socioeconomic gap is still high. Ignorance is still prevalent, so, if you ask me, "Do we deserve democracy? Do we deserve freedom? Do we deserve the world without authority, the world of truth, the world of peace?" I answer, "No, we don't."

So, when you hear your president shouting 'Peace!', your government speaking 'Freedom!', ask them 'Are you educated?'
Andreas Laurencius

Boy," said Druss, his eyes cold, "think well about this venture. For make no mistake, you cannot
stand before me and live. No man ever has." The words were spoken softly, yet no one disbelieved the
old man. ~ David Gemmell

Glory?!
Have you gone MAD? There's no glory to be had now! Only retreat -- or surrender -- or death!"

"That's an easy chose for us, arcadian! SPARTANS NEVER RETREAT! SPARTANS NEVER SURRENDER! ~ Frank Miller

In the silence, Kestrel heard a falling leaf scratch the glass of the window, opened out toward the dimming sky. It was warm, but summer was almost over.
"Play your tiles," Arin said roughly.
Kestrel turned them over, taking no joy in the fact that she had surely won. She had four scorpions.
Arin flipped his. The sound of ivory clacking against the wooden table was unnaturally loud.
Four vipers.
"I win," he said, and swept the matches into his hand.
Kestrel stared at the tiles, feeling a numbness creep along her limbs. "Well," she said. She cleared her throat. "Well played."
He gave her a humorless smile. "I did warn you."
"Yes. You did."
He stood. "I think I'll take my leave while I have the advantage."
"Until next time." Kestrel realized she had offered him her hand. He looked at it, then took it in his own. She felt the numbness ebb, only to be replaced by a different kind of surprise.
He dropped her hand. "I have things to do."
"Like what?" She tried for a lighthearted tone.
He answered in kind. "Like contemplate what I am going to do with my sudden windfall of matches." He widened his eyes in pretend glee, and Kestrel smiled.
"I'll walk you out," she said.
"Do you think I will lose my way? Or steal something as I go?"
She felt her expression turn haughty. "I am leaving the villa anyway," she said, though she had had no such plans until the words left her mouth.
They walked in silence thr ~ Marie Rutkoski

No more boys taking you on trips, you hear?" His voice was gravelly. "You can take your own self from now on. Last thing you need is some boy distracting you and making this whole situation even more complicated. Promise me you'll stay away from that son of Pharzuph."
I opened my mouth but the words stuck in my dry throat. How sweat beaded up on my forehead.
"I tried that once, John," Patti warned him. "It didn't work out so well for me."
"Have you seen the way he looks at her?" He focused on Patti, but pointed at me.
"Yes, and I've seen the way she looks at him. Truthfully, I think they need each other."
"Those two need each other like a bullet needs a target. Trust me. I've seen Nephilim kids killed for falling in love and letting it get in the way of their work."
"Well, you don't have to worry, because we're not in love," I chimed in. "He doesn't like me like that."
Dad puffed out a breath of air. "Well, he must feel something, 'cause he sure doesn't want that other kid near you."
"Is there someone else you're interested in?" Patti asked.
I rolled my colors back up, tucked them inside, and yanked the barrier back into place. Then I entertained the image of Kopano's sweet dimple for a brief second before pushing it away.
"I'm not ready to think about that," I answered.
My father tilted his head up to the ceiling and pressed his giant hands to his face, muffling his speech. "I'm way too old for this. ~ Wendy Higgins

Some o' the words in this book might not be immediately pronounceable for some readers because they have foreign origins. Heck, I needed help myself. But I like learning new words and how to say them, so I'm providing a wee guide here for a few names and such in case you're of a like mind and want to know how to say them out loud. No one is going to confiscate your cake if you say them wrong, but you might score a piece of cake if you say them right. You know what? You should just have a piece of cake anyway. You deserve cake. ~ Kevin Hearne

I don't know what position you're talking about, sir. The Gnomon Society has never questioned the rotundity of the earth. Mr. Jimmerson is himself a skilled topographer."
"Excuse me, Mr. Popper, but I have it right here in Mr. Jimmerson's own words on page twenty-nine of 101 Gnomon Facts."
"No, sir. Excuse me but you don't. Please look again. Read that passage carefully and you'll see what we actually say is that the earth looks flat. We still say that. It's so flat around Brownsville as to be striking to the eye."
"But isn't that just a weasel way of saying that you really believe if to be flat?"
"Not at all. What we're saying is that the curvature of the earth is so gentle, relative to our human scale of things, that we need not bother or take it into account when going for a stroll, say, or laying out our gardens. ~ Charles Portis

During his illness he had spent every minute of consciousness calling upon God, every second of every minute. Ya Allah whose servant lies bleeding do not abandon me now after watching oven me so long. Ya Allah show me some sign, some small mark of your favour, that I may find in myself the strength to cure my ills. O God most beneficent most merciful, be with me in this my time of need, my most grievous need. Then it occurred to him that he was being punished, and for a time that made it possible to suffer the pain, but after a time he got angry. Enough, God, his unspoken words demanded, why must I die when I have not killed, are you vengeance or are you love? The anger with God carried him through another day, but then it faded, and in its place there came a terrible emptiness, an isolation, as he realized he was talking to _thin air_, that there was nobody there at all, and then he felt more foolish than ever in his life, and he began to plead into the emptiness, ya Allah, just be there, damn it, just be. But he felt nothing, nothing nothing, and then one day he found that he no longer needed there to be anything to feel. On that day of metamorphosis the illness changed and his recovery began. And to prove to himself the non-existence of God, he now stood in the dining-hall of the city's most famous hotel, with pigs falling out of his face. ~ Salman Rushdie

ROSES UNDERFOOT

The sound of salaams rising as
waves diminish down in prayer,

hoping for some trace of the one
whose trace does not appear. If

anyone asks you to say who you
are, say without hesitation,

soul withing soul within soul.
There's a pearl diver who does

not know how to swim! No matter.
Pearls are handed him on the

beach. We lovers laugh to hear,
"This should be more that and

that more this,"coming from
people sitting in a wagon tilted

in a ditch. Going in search of
the heart, I found a huge rose

under my feet, and roses under
all our feet! How to say this

to someone who denies it? The
robe we wear is the sky's cloth.

Everything is soul and flowering.

---------------------------------

I open and fill with love and
other objects evaporate. All

the learning in books stays put
on the shelf. Poetry, the dear

words and images of song, comes
down over me like mountain water.


----------------------------------

Any cup I hold fills with wine
that lovers drink. Every word

I say opens into mystery. Any way I turn I see brilliance. ~ Rumi

- Then find other way. I learn in temple. Taught by ancient master. When trouble, always remember wise words of ancient and venerable master.
- What were they?
- Ancient master say: `That boy there! What you eating? Hope you brought enough for everybody!' Ancient master say: `You bad boy! Why you no do homework?' Ancient master say: `What boy laughing? No tell what boy laughing, whole dojo stay in after school!' When remember these wise words, nothing seems so bad. ~ Terry Pratchett

Don't make me out to be something worth saving. We both know I'm a waste." His voice was so quiet. "I wish I was better at telling you why you have to stay here. I wish I could put into words the part of my heart that has your name written on it. That part hurts right now. You have to be here. You love life too much. You're so important. I wish I could make you understand this." He tried to smile at her valiant efforts. "I would keep you if I could. You can sleep here, right on this couch. Beckett, I will let you hold this baby when it comes." She touched her stomach. "Does that tell you how much you mean to me? It's the only thing I can come up with." He shrugged. "Mouse would be disappointed. He'd feel like he didn't do his job if you died ... Eve loves you. Wherever she is - in this strip club - is that what you've been wishing for?" Beckett shook his head. "No, right? She loves you. You can't kill someone she loves. You just can't. ~ Debra Anastasia

Let no one out of laziness or continuous worldly occupations miss these holy Sunday gatherings, which God Himself handed down to us, lest he be justly abandoned by God ... If you are detained and do not attend on one occasion, make up for it the next time, bringing yourself to Christ's Church. Otherwise you may remain uncured, suffering from unbelief in your soul because of deeds or words, and failing to approach Christ's surgery to receive ... holy healing. ~ Gregory Palamas

As she grew older, she was aware of her changing position on mortality. In her youth, the topic of death was philosophical; in her thirties it was unbearable and in her forties unavoidable. In her fifties, she had dealt with it in more rational terms, arranging her last testament, itemizing assets and heirlooms, spelling out the organ donation, detailing the exact words for her living will. Now, in her sixties, she was back to being philosophical. Death was not a loss of life, but the culmination of a series of releases. It was devolving into less and less. You had to release yourself from vanity, desire, ambition, suffering, and frustration - all the accoutrements of the I, the ego. And if you die, you would disappear, leave no trace, evaporate into nothingness ... ~ Amy Tan

Ava,' he says quietly, but I've no doubt the whole room can hear him. The silence is screaming. 'My
beautiful girl.' He smiles mildly. 'All mine.' Leaning up, he kisses me sweetly. 'I don't need to stand
up and declare to everyone here how much I love you. I'm not interested in satisfying anyone of that.
Except you.'
A lump is forming in my throat, and he's only just started.
He sighs. 'You've taken me completely, baby. You've swallowed me up and drowned me in your
beauty and spirit. You know I can't function without you. You've made my life as beautiful as you
are. You've made me want to live a worthy existence - a life with you. All I need is you - to look at
you; to listen to you; to feel you.' He drops my hands and smoothes his palms over my thighs. 'To
love you.'
I'm ruined. My mum's ruined. Everyone in the room is ruined. My teeth are clamped on my bottom lip
to prevent a sob escaping, I'm choking on the lump in my throat and my eyes are welling with tears as
I look down at Jesse's handsome face.
'I need you to let me do all of those things, Ava. I need you to let me look after you forever.'
I hear my mum's quiet sob, and I can't help mine. Not now. He used to cripple me with just his touch.
Now he cripples me with his touch and his words. I'm destined for a life of devastating pleasure,
melting tenderness, and heart stopping emotion. He's going to incapacitate me at every turn.
'I know ~ Jodi Ellen Malpas

One day, you find it,' repeated Rodolphe, 'one day, quite suddenly, when you've given up hope. Then new horizons stretch before you, and it's like a voice that cries: "Here it is!" You long to tell this person everything that's ever happened to you, to give everything, to sacrifice everything to this person! There's no need for words - you can read each other's thoughts. You've seen each other in your dreams.' (He was staring at her.) 'So, at last, it's here, this treasure you've been so desperately seeking, here, before you, bright and sparkling. But you still feel unsure, you daren't believe in it; you're dazzled, as if you'd come from out of the shadows into the light. ~ Gustave Flaubert

Iain took hold of both her hands and squeezed to get her attention. Then he took a deep breath. Even with his men watching, he wanted the words to be right, his declaration to be one she would always remember. It was a damned awkward undertaking, trying to think of loving words, and he had absolutely no experience in this area, but he was still determined not to muck it up. The moment needed to be perfect for her. "Judith," he began. "Yes, Iain?" "I'm keeping you. ~ Julie Garwood

You felt she'd done a thousand secret things to her eyes. They needed no haze of cigarette smoke to look at you out of sexy and fathomless, but carried their own along with them. New York must have been for her a city of smoke, its streets the courtyards of limbo, its bodies like wraiths. Smoke seemed to be in her voice, in her movements; making her all the more substantial, more there, as if words, glances, small lewdnesses could only become baffled and brought to rest like smoke in her long hair; remain there useless till she released them, accidentally and unknowingly, with a toss of her head. ~ Thomas Pynchon

Arrive before your Husband. Not that I can
See quite what good arriving first will do;
But still arrive before him. When he's taken
His place upon the couch and you go too
To sit beside him, on your best behavior
Stealthily touch my foot, and look at me,
Watching my nods, my eyes, my face's language;
Catch and return my signals secretly.
I'll send a wordless message with my eyebrows;
You'll read my fingers' words, words traced in wine.
When you recall our games of love together,
Your finger on rosy cheeks must trace a line.
If in your silent thoughts you wish to chide me,
Let your hand hold the lobe of your soft ear;
When, darling, what I do or say gives pleasure,
Keep turning to an fro the ring you wear.
When you wish well-earned curses on your husband,
Lay your hand on the table, as in prayer.
If he pours you wine, watch out, tell him to drink it;
Ask for what you want from the waiter there.
I shall take next the glass you hand the waiter
And I'll drink from the place you took your sips;
If he should offer anything he's tasted,
Refuse whatever food has touch his lips.
Don't let him plant his arms upon your shoulders,
Don't let him rest your gentle head on his hard chest,
Don't let your dress, your breasts, admit his fingers,
And--most of all--no kisses to be pressed!
You kiss--and I'll reveal myself your lover;
I'll say 'they're mi ~ Ovid

There is a prayer intended to give strength to people faced with circumstances they don't want to accept. The power of the prayer comes from it's insight into human nature. Because so many of us rage against the hand that life has dealt us. Because so many of us are cowardly. And afraid to stand up for what is right. Because so many of us give into despair when faced with an impossible choice. The good news for those who utter these words is that God will hear you and answer your prayer. The bad news is that sometimes the answer is no. ~ Mary Alice

The music is an important and crucial part to an animated film. You don't think about it, but you can watch Tom and Jerry with no words, for hours, and the music dictates the emotion and where the story is going and how you're supposed to feel. Everything is in the music. ~ Rihanna

Platitudes are poor substitutes for emotions, this negative space hollowed out and without words. I know the shape of you and it has no name. I know the sound of you and the smell of you and the touch and sight and taste of you. But language departed the same day you did, leaving my mouth empty. ~ Tania De Rozario

And this is how I know that it's all just words, words, words - that fundamentally, they make no difference ... Our relationship, for as long as things were good, and in that moment when they could have been good again, was about the irrelevance of words. You feel what you feel, you act as you act, who in the history of the world has ever been convinced by a well-reasoned argument? ~ Curtis Sittenfeld

Written over the gate here are the words 'Leave every hope behind, ye who enter.' Only think what a relief that is! For what is hope? A form of moral responsibility. Here there is no hope, and consequently no duty, no work, nothing to be gained by praying, nothing to be lost by doing what you like. Hell, in short is a place where you have nothing to do but amuse yourself. ~ George Bernard Shaw

But to return to your question, Vidanric's tendency to keep his own counsel ought to be reassuring as far as people hopping out with embarrassing words are concerned. If I were you
and I know it's so much easier to give advice than to follow it
I'd sit down with him, when no one else is at hand, and talk it out."
Just the thought of seeking him out for a private talk made me shudder. "I'd rather walk down the mountain in shoes full of snails."
It was Nee's turn to shudder. "Life! I'd rather do almost anything than that
~ Sherwood Smith

You drive, walk, eat, look at television, read, and all the while, beyond you and the cozy circle created by your lady around herself and you, like the natural emanations of stars, other lives circle yours, seeds still winged and wind-borne, looking for sympathetic soil. You feel the juices and solids of your body in attempted rearrangement, or, more disturbing, making an effort to create a stillness that approximates death, beyond which the body does become soil, receptive to all wind-borne seeds. In a not especially prolonged stillness, as though no chances could be taken that you might decide to become perpetual motion, words fall out of the air, a random fall from which you might be tempted to make selection, and as you do not move, cannot, a string of words falls onto you, and from you, onto the paper: winter rye greening up, smoothing the old brown earth with a fine new plane: Carpenter Rye, neighbor. ~ Coleman Dowell

This Beloved of ours is merciful and good. Besides, he so deeply longs for our love that he keeps calling us to come closer. This voice of his is so sweet that the poor soul falls apart in the face of her own inability to instantly do whatever he asks of her. And so you can see, hearing him hurts much more than not being able to hear him ... For now, his voice reaches us through words spoken by good people, through listening to spiritual talks, and reading sacred literature. God calls to us in countless little ways all the time. Through illnesses and suffering and through sorrow he calls to us. Through a truth glimpsed fleetingly in a state of prayer he calls to us. No matter how halfhearted such insights may be, God rejoices whenever we learn what he is trying to teach us. ~ Teresa Of Avila

Be proud of your child, accept him as he is and do not heed the words and stares of those who know no better. This child has a meaning for you and for all children. You will find a joy you cannot now suspect in fulfilling his life for and with him. ~ Pearl S. Buck

When they had understood the hoopoe's words,
A clamour of complaint rose from the birds:
'Although we recognize you as our guide,
You must accept - it cannot be denied -
We are a wretched, flimsy crew at best,
And lack the bare essentials for this quest.
Our feathers and our wings, our bodies' strength
Are quite unequal to the journey's length;
For one of us to reach the Simorgh's throne
Would be miraculous, a thing unknown.
[...] He seems like Solomon, and we like ants;
How can mere ants climb from their darkened pit
Up to the Simorgh's realm? And is it fit
That beggars try the glory of a king?
How ever could they manage such a thing?'

The hoopoe answered them: 'How can love thrive
in hearts impoverished and half alive?
"Beggars," you say - such niggling poverty
Will not encourage truth or charity.
A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul -
His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control.
[...] Your heart is not a mirror bright and clear
If there the Simorgh's form does not appear;
No one can bear His beauty face to face,
And for this reason, of His perfect grace,
He makes a mirror in our hearts - look there
To see Him, search your hearts with anxious care. ~ Attar Of Nishapur

I saw the folded note peeking up from behind the cover of the book in which I'd hidden it.
I brushed my fingertips across the lineny surface, my skin sparking with electricity, my fingers itching to pull it free.
I shoudn't, I told myself, even as I held my breath and watched myself withdrawing it from the book. I tried to tamp down the feeling of anticipation coursing through me at the same time I argued that it was a mistake to look at it again.
It didn't deserve anymore of my time. He didn't deserve the space he already occupied in my mind.
I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed me there, tucked beneath my desk, reading a note that I'd already memorized.
No one paid me any attention.
I held the letter, vividly picturing the six words written inside the folds. Six words that I already knew by heart. Six words that meant more to me than they should.
I unfolded the top third of the paper, then the bottom, purposely keeping my eyes unfocused for just a moment.
My heart stopped.
And then my eyesight cleared.

I pledge to keep you safe. ~ Kimberly Derting

Labelling is no longer a liberating political act but a necessity in order to gain entrance into the academic industrial complex and other discussions and spaces. For example, if so called "radical" or "progressive" people don't hear enough "buzz" words (like feminist, anti-oppression, anti-racist, social justice, etc.) in your introduction, then you are deemed unworthy and not knowledgeable enough to speak with authority on issues that you have lived experience with. The criteria for identifying as a feminist by academic institutions, peer reviewed journals, national bodies, conferences, and other knowledge gatekeepers is very exclusive. It is based on academic theory instead of based on lived experiences or values. Name-dropping is so elitist! You're not a "real" feminist unless you can quote, or have read the following white women: (insert Women's Studies 101 readings). ~ Krysta Williams