Patch Quotes

The antique, almost primitive band he held between his fingers caught the sunlight, glinting silver. I found this ring shortly after I was banished from heaven. I kept it to remind myself of how endless my sentence was, how eternal one small choice can be. I've kept it a long time. I want you to have it. You broke my suffering. You've given me a new eternity. Be my girl, Nora. Be my everything. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up.

"You got lucky," I said.

"I'm about to get lucky. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Jump for joy as we accomplish the dreams we adore. ~ Patch Adams

I love you to insanity. I'm not even sure if it's a good thing.' - Duke ~ Stephanie Witter

I listen closely to her breathing getting slower, deeper until her hand settles over my heart, only beating for her. - Duke ~ Stephanie Witter

You're impinging on my private space," I said, inching backward.
Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isn't the SAT, Nora. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Community service has become a patch for morality. You can devote your life to community service and be a total schmuck. ~ Timothy Keller

I thought of us lying down on some grassy patch of SeaWorld together, me on my back and she on her side with her arm draped against me, her head on my shoulder, facing me. Not doing anything - just lying there together beneath the sky, the night here so well lit that it drowns out the stars. ~ John Green

And here I thought they were called Peeping Toms." I didn't need to see him to know he wore a smile.
"Stop laughing," I said, my cheeks hot with humiliation. "Get me down."
"Jump."
"What?"
"I'll catch you."
"Are you crazy? Go inside and open the window. Or get a ladder."
"I don't need a ladder. Jump. I'm not going to drop you. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Why don't you just put me down for a couple of boxes of cookies and go earn your next patch bothering someone else." - Jayke Wolff ~ Shawn Keenan

After a minute I leaned back, elbows on the table, and looked up for the twinkle of the first star in the evening sky. When we were little, it was a ritual Finn and I did on the front porch. He'd make his wish silently, and I would too, but I never could keep a secret; and I'd tell him what I wished every time. He'd always tell me it wouldn't come true, but I didn't believe him. I'd had plenty of them come true, from a new box of crayons showing up out of nowhere to a bag of candy left on my bed. It had been a while, though, and the only thing I'd wish for now was impossible. I found the first star in a patch of burnt-orange sky, above the crinkly purple mountains in the distance, and then I wished my brother back anyway. ~ Jessi Kirby

Great tracts of reindeer moss, for example: tiny stars and florets and inklings of an ancient flora growing on exhausted land. Crisp underfoot in summer, the stuff is like a patch of the arctic fallen into the world in the wrong place. Everywhere, there are bony shoulders and blades of flint. On wet mornings you can pick up shards knocked from flint cores by Neolithic craftsmen, tiny flakes of stone glowing in thin coats of cold water. ~ Helen Macdonald

Towards midnight the rain ceased and the clouds drifted away, so that the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars. Then the breeze died too and there was no noise save the drip and tickle of water that ran out of clefts and spilled down, leaf by leaf, to the brown earth of the island. The air was cool, moist, and clear; and presently even the sound of the water was still. The beast lay huddled on the pale beach and the stains spread, inch by inch.

The edge of the lagoon became a streak of phosphorescence which advanced minutely, as the great wave of the tide flowed. The clear water mirrored the clear sky and the angular bright constellations. The line of phosphorescence bulged about the sand grains and little pebbles; it held them each in a dimple of tension, then suddenly accepted them with an inaudible syllable and moved on.

Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured mar ~ William Golding

The first thing to realize is that it is is a country that is still being imagined. Here every patch of earth has a story, all your places have nuances; if you say Cornwall to an English person, they think of smugglers, and King Arthur and fish. But there are great parts of my country about which American's know nothing beyond an idea of unimaginable vastness. Of course the Indians that live there know the spirits of these places, but that is not the point. You can't imagine how blue the sky is out West, Charlotte. So much space. It's really wild, not like your Lake District with its little stone walls. In the West the landscape is unmarked by man. ~ Daisy Goodwin

Love is donating a chunk of your life to patch up holes in the life of another. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Patch traced a finger along my collarbone, then headed south, stopping at my heart. I felt it pounding through my skin. "Because I feel it here, in my heart," he said quietly. "I haven't lost the ability to feel emotion." He watched me closely. "Let me put it this way. Our emotional connection isn't lacking. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

A great paradox...red states are poorere and have more teen mothers, more divorce, worse health, more obesity, more trauma-related deaths, more low-birth-weight babies, and lower school enrollment....The gap in life expectancey between Louisiana (75.7) and Connecticut (80.8) is the same as that between the U.S. and Nicaragua....And the problem transcends race; an average black in Maryland lives four years longer, earns twice as much, and is twice as likely to have a college degree as a black in Louisiana. And whites in Louisiana are wrose off than whites in Maryland or anywhere else outside Mississippi. Louisiana has suffered many environmental problems too: there are nearly 400 miles of low, flat, subsiding coastline, adn the state loses a football field-size patch of wetland every hour. It is threatened by rising sea levels and severe hurricanes, which the world's top scientists connect to climate change. ~ Arlie Russell Hochschild

How does this whole guardian angel business work? Am I the only person who can see you? I mean, are you invisible to everyone else?" Patch stared at me like he hoped I wasn't serious.

"You're not invisible?" I squeaked. "You have to get out of here!" I made a movement to push Patch off the bed but was cut short by a searing jab in my ribs. "She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!"

Patch grinned. "I can fly."

Oh. Right. Well, okay. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Some golfers, we are told, enjoy the landscape; but properly, the landscape shrivels and compresses into the grim, surrealistically vivid patch of grass directly under the golfer's eyes as he morosely walks toward where he thinks his ball might be. ~ John Updike

My mother's belief in spiritual healers grew stronger after our family went through a rough patch following my father's death. Sufi saint Karimullah Shah Kadri changed our lives, and all of us converted to Sufism. But it wasn't an instantaneous decision - it took us 10 years to convert. The change in religion was like washing away the past. ~ A.R. Rahman

The turnip cannot thrive in the tulips patch of soil. ~ Jessie Burton

Swimming is my salvation. Ask me in the middle of winter, or at the end of a grueling day, or after a long stretch at the computer, where I'd most like to be, and the answer is always the same: in the water, gliding weightless, slicing a silent trail through whatever patch of blue I can find. ~ Lynn Sherr

When I checked the other day, I found it - my strawberry patch - overgrown and hidden under weeds, but still there ... like secrets, like memories. You can make yourself believe that they have been erased. But they are there, if you look closely. If you have a wish to uncover them. ~ Linda Olsson

Arrr, shiver me timbers," he said in an exaggerated pirate twang. He winked his uncovered eye and hooked his thumbs in his pants. "This is the nicest your mom's been to a poor old bloke like me-self in days."
Sandra poked a finger in his chest, but grinned. "Don't make me regret it, or you'll walk the plank."
He grinned back and, with that eye patch, turned knee-meltingly rakish in under ten seconds flat. "Aye, I won't be asking you to make me Roger jolly, if that's what has you worrying. ~ Jennifer Shirk

He would be as everyone was, especially Shadowhunters: a patch-work of love and grief, of gains and losses. The love helped you accept the grief. You had to feel it all. ~ Cassandra Clare

Beauty

Void lay the world, in nothingness concealed,
Without a trace of light or life revealed,
Save one existence which second knew-
Unknown the pleasant words of We and You.
Then Beauty shone, from stranger glances free,
Seen of herself, with naught beside to see,
With garments pure of stain, the fairest flower
Of virgin loveliness in bridal bower.
No combing hand had smoothed a flowing tress,
No mirror shown her eyes their loveliness
No surma dust those cloudless orbs had known,
To the bright rose her cheek no bulbul flown.
No heightening hand had decked the rose with green,
No patch or spot upon that cheek was seen.
No zephyr from her brow had fliched a hair,
No eye in thought had seen the splendour there.
Her witching snares in solitude she laid,
And love's sweet game without a partner played.
But when bright Beauty reigns and knows her power
She springs indignant from her curtained bower.
She scorns seclusion and eludes the guard,
And from the window looks if doors be barred.
See how the tulip on the mountain grown
Soon as the breath of genial Spring has blown,
Bursts from the rock, impatient to display
Her nascent beauty to the eye of day.
When sudden to thy soul reflection brings
The precious meaning of mysterious things,
Thou canst not drive the thought from out thy brain;
Speak, hear thou must, for silence is suc ~ Nūr Ad-Dīn 'Abd Ar-Rahmān Jāmī

Life is a lot more interesting if you are interested in the people and the places around you. So, illuminate your little patch of ground, the people that you know, the things that you want to commemorate. Light them up with your art, with your music, with your writing, with whatever it is that you do. ~ Alan Moore

Dr. Parker and all my parents live in a paper-mache world. They just patch up problems with strips of newspaper and a little glue. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

I'm great at a deathbed. I've never given tranquillisers or psychiatric medicine. I've given love and fun and creativity and passion and hope, and these things ease suffering. ~ Patch Adams

If I'd wanted you dead five minutes ago, you'd have died five minutes ago. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

See what no one else sees. See what everyone chooses not to see - out of fear, conformity, or laziness. See the whole world anew each day. ~ Patch Adams

Vietnam is still, as it was thirty years ago, a poor country of rice paddy farms and sandy harbors, where fishermen cast nets from boats with eyes painted on the bows. It is overcrowded, prey to floods and sweatshops, dotted by modern cities and tiny hamlets of thatched huts with TV antennae. It is not a great capital of industry, or an international oil field or bread basket. There is nothing in Vietnam, now, that America truly needs. And there was even less thirty years ago. This country, these people, posed no real threat to us. It was a strange place to send our youth - not to learn a new culture or to enjoy the beaches, but to kill and be killed, to be maimed and to patch up the maimed. I am convinced that, to our government, Vietnam really, truly Didn't Mean Nothing. ~ Susan O'Neill

If anyone were to find out - " I began.
Patch kissed me, hard, but with an amused glint in his eye. "If I get caught, it'll mean the end of kissing you. Do you really think I'd risk that?" His face grew serious. "I know I can't feel your touch, but I feel your love, Nora. Inside me. It means everything to me. I wish I could feel you the same way you feel me, but I have your love. Nothing will ever outweigh that. Some people go their entire lives never feeling the emotions you've given me. There is no regret in that. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

It was too late - everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw! ~ William Shakespeare

It's a lot easier to patch things up with somebody when he doesn't even know you were pissed off at him in the first place. ~ Steve Kluger

My goal involves a hammock, a vegetable patch, and a solar-powered house. And I hope to eventually get there. ~ Miranda Kerr

Now right here, where the borders of South Sudan, Ethiopia, and Kenya all come together, there's a patch of land, perhaps 14 or 15 thousand square kilometers - about the size of Montenegro - that is contested. This is just some unpopulated marginal cattle grazing country that is a hot soggy sponge in the rainy season and then a scorching hot griddle in the dry season. There are just a few villages, and most of those are just seasonally occupied. ~ James Wesley, Rawles

The older woman waiting for admittance looked at me, then over her shoulder at Patch, who was vanishing down the hall. "Honey," she told me, "he looks slippery as soap. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

The bag sprang a leak. The leak had to be patched. The patch sprang a leak. The crew patched the patch. Then the bag sprang another leak. The drilling could not go on. ~ Linda Sue Park

I'm telling you this because I want you to know that I know something about you isn't right. You haven't fooled everybody. I'm going to find out what you're up to. I'm going to expose you."
"Looking forward to it. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

I like you in my bed," Patch said. "I rarely pull down the covers. I rarely sleep. I could get used to this picture."
"Are you offering me a permanent place?"
"Already put a spare key in your pocket."
I patted my pocket. Sure enough, something small and hard was snug inside. "How charitable of you."
"I'm not feeling very charitable now," he said, holding my eyes, his voice deepening with a gravelly edge. "I missed you, Angel. Not one day went by that I didn't feel you missing from my life. You haunted me to the point that I began to believe Hank had gone back on his oath and killed you. I saw your ghost in everything. I couldn't escape you and I didn't want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Scared?, Angel.'
-Patch Cipriano. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Patch wasn't the kind of guy mothers smiled on. He was the kind of guy they changed the house locks for. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Did you know, the first time I saw you, I thought: I've never seen anything more captivating and beautiful?"
"Why are you telling me this?" I said miserably.
"I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you. That wanting nearly drove me mad." Patch paused, inhaling softly, as though breathing me in. "And now that I have you, the only thing that terrifies me is having to go back to that place. Having to want you all over again, with no hope of my desire ever being fulfilled. You're mine, Angel. Every last piece of you. I won't let anything change that. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

It's got to be the ballot or the bullet. The ballot or the bullet. If you're afraid to use an expression like that, you should get back in the cotton patch, you should get back in the alley. ~ Malcolm X

A man's perspective is limited by the brevity of his existence.
Even living deliberately, how far up can we reach?
Standing on our miniscule patch of time, how far into the future can we see? How much of the past can one truly understand?

Yet, only a recreant spends their precious drops of sand before dropping back
into the abyss lounging in indulgence, not striving for understanding, knowledge,
answers that those of us
scourged/consecrated with consciousness
should seek with unconquerable passion. ~ Alpha Four

Occasionally I have come across a last patch of snow on top of a mountain in late May or June. There's something very powerful about finding snow in summer. ~ Andy Goldsworthy

Patch up thine old body for heaven. ~ William Shakespeare

He regarded us with dark, evaluating eyes. "This can't be good."
"I'll go first," Dabria began, sucking in a rattling breath.
"Not even close," I shot back. I faced Patch directly, cutting Dabria out of the conversation. "She kissed you! And Dante, who's been tailing you, by the way, caught it on camera. Imagine my surprise when that's what I got an eyeful of earlier tonight. Did you even think to tell me?"
"I told her I kissed you, and that you pushed me away," Dabria protested shrilly.
"What are you still doing here?" I exploded at Dabria. "This is between me and Patch. Leave already!"
"What are you doing here?" Patch echoed to Dabria, his tone sharpening.
"I - broke in," she sputtered. "I was scared. I couldn't sleep. I can't stop thinking about Hanoth and the other Nephilim."
"You have got to be kidding me," I said. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

For me, once I've made a cup of tea I belong somehow. It's like I'm marking out my territory, and anyone attempting to come and make a cup of tea on my patch will be dealt with most severely, more likely than not with a counter attack into their territory and the seizure of their milk cartons and shortbread biscuits. ~ Tony Hawks

Most recently, as the medical value of marijuana has been rediscovered, medicine has been searching for ways to "pharmaceuticalize" the plant - find a way to harness its easily accessible benefits in a patch or inhaler that doctors can prescribe, corporations patent, and governments regulate. Whenever possible, Paracelsus's lab-coated descendants have synthesized the active ingredients in plant drugs, allowing medicine to dispense with the plant itself - and any reminders of its pagan past. ~ Michael Pollan

A garden was one of the few thing in prison that one could control. To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom. ~ Nelson Mandela

I'm terrified that I'm genetically predisposed to only having boys. That's frightening. By the time I was 10 years old, and I'm not exaggerating, I knew how to patch drywall. ~ Ryan Reynolds

It's not that your mother didn't love you,' the boy named Crow says from behind me. 'She loved you very deeply. The first thing you have to do is believe that. That's your starting point.'
'But she abandoned me. She disappeared, leaving me alone where I shouldn't be. I'm finally beginning to understand how much that hurt. How could she do it if she really loved me?'
'That's the reality of it. It did happen,'the boy named Crow says. 'You were hurt badly, and those scars will be with you forever. I feel sorry for you, I really do. But think of it like this: It's not too late to recover. You're young, you're tough. You're adaptable. You can patch up your wounds, lift your head, and move on. But for her that's not an option. The only thing she'll ever be is lost. It doesn't matter whether somebody judges this as good or bad- that's not the point. You're the one who has the advantage. You ought to consider that.'
I don't respond.
'It all really happened, you can't undo it,' Crow tells me. 'She shouldn't have abandoned you then, and you shouldn't have been abandoned. But things in the past are like a plate that's shattered to pieces. You can never put it back together like it was, right?'
I nod. You can never put it back together like it was. He's hit the nail on the head.
The boy named Crow continues. 'Your mother felt a gut-wrenching kind of fear and anger inside her, okay? Just like you do now. Which is why she had to abandon you.'
'Eve ~ Haruki Murakami

People aren't so good at being good to one another. We try hard enough, but something essential was left out in the making of us, some hard little patch of stone in the fertile soil that's supposed to be our hearts. We get hung up on the bad, and we focus on it until it grows, and the whole crop is lost. I ~ Seanan McGuire

The five stages of model development. - Donald Knuth, Stanford computer scientist Knuth discovered that computer program development goes through five stages. These steps also apply to building models, and I rigorously adhere to them in my consulting work. 1. Decide what you want the model to do. 2. Decide how to build the model. 3. Build the model. 4. Debug the model. 5. Trash stages 1 through 4 and start again, now that you know what you really wanted in the first place. Once you realize that step 5 is inevitable, you become more willing to discard bad models early rather than continually to patch them up. In fact, I recommend getting to step 5 many times by building an evolving set of prototypes. This is consistent with an emerging style of system development known as Extreme Programming.2 To get a large model to work you must start with a small model that works, not a large model that doesn't work. - Alan Manne, Stanford energy economist ~ Sam L. Savage

Dude, if you're going to patch into the Sons you're going to have to deal with a lot more scarier things than my breast milk ~ Anne Malcom

Derek and I went out for our walk after dinner. Alone.
There was an open field behind the motel and we headed there. Finally, when we were far enough from the motel, Derek led me into a little patch of woods. He hesitated then, unsure, still just holding my hand. When I stepped in front of him, though, his free hand went around my waist.
"So," I said. "Seems you're going to be stuck with me for a while."
He smiled. A real smile that lit up his whole face.
"Good," he said.
He pulled me against him. Then he bent down, breath warming my lips. My pulse was racing so fast I could barely breathe. I was sure he'd stop again and I tensed, waiting for that hesitation, stomach twisting. His lips touched mine, and still I kept waiting for him to pull back.
His lips pressed against mine, then parted. And he kissed me. Really kissed me- arms tightening around me, mouth moving against mine, firm, like he'd made up his mind that this was what he wanted and he wasn't backing down again.
I slid my arms around his neck. His tightened around me and he scooped me up, lifting me off his feet, kissing me like he was never going to stop, and I kissed him back the same way, like I didn't want him to ever stop.
It was a perfect moment, one where nothing else mattered. All I could feel was him. All I could taste was his kiss. All I could hear was the pounding of his heart. All I could think about was him, and how much I wanted this, and how incredibly lucky I ~ Kelley Armstrong

The security business is as thick as the club. Business in both areas stays private. Everyone is on a need-to-know basis, me and Mom included...that is until I patch in. ~ Katie McGarry

I think you learn how to live with holes in your heart. You can't patch them up, or plug them with other people, but you find ways to make it bearable, if that makes sense. ~ Helena Hunting

I got a new job. Patch locked eyes with me, and I warmed in a lot of places. In fact, I was dangerously close to feverish. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

In a flash, at a trumpet crash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond. ~ Wesley Hill

Madness will push you anywhere it wants. It never tells you where you're going, or why. It tells you it doesn't matter. It persuades you. It dangles something sparkly before you, shimmering like that water patch on the road up ahead. You will drive until you find it, the treasure, the thing you most desire.
You will never find it. Madness may mock you so long you will die of the search. Or it will tire of you, turn its back, oblivious as you go flying. The car is beside you, smoking, belly-up, still spinning its wheels. ~ Marya Hornbacher

Four and I stay behind. I wait until the room is empty and the door is shut before looking at him again. He walks towards me. "Is your-" he begins. "You did that on purpose!" I shout. "Yes, I did," he says quietly. "And you should thank me for helping you." I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?" "You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!" He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes looks thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye. ~ Veronica Roth

Busted. I'm a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless-and shockingly handsome-alter ego. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

A man willing to sacrifice his life for you is more than worth admiring. He's worth loving. ~ Jessica R. Patch

I can't seem to take my eyes of the patch of skin that shows when he raises his hand to run his fingers through his hair, making his shirt ride up a little. ~ Jessica Sorensen

I Don't Need the nicotene patch, Penny - I smoke cigarettes. ~ Emma Thompson

Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse; Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own. ~ Charles Churchill

Conversion is not a repairing of the old building, but it takes all down and erects a new structure. It is not the sewing on a patch of holiness; but, with the true convert, holiness is woven into all his powers, principles and practice. ~ Joseph Alleine

The Moon was just a sickle of light, hanging in the sky among a wild spray of stars. All that cosmic luminance, traveling for millions of years, amounted to nothing more than a pale patch on the carpet. ~ Kenneth Calhoun

We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name. ~ William Shakespeare

Shh!" the guy beside me hissed again.
"Blame him," I told the guy, pointing at Patch. The guy craned his neck back.
"Listen," he said, facing me again. "If you don't quiet down, I'll get security."
"Fine, go get security. Tell them to take him away," I said, again signaling Patch. "Tell them he wants to kill me."
"I want to kill you," hissed the guy's girlfriend, ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

But they wrote like little old men and little old ladies, all purseymouthed and ooo, don't slip on that icy patch, Mildred. ~ Stephen King

But although the rules are vague
And widely disregarded now
Some precepts remain: live with love -
That is a rule we all can understand;
Forgive those who need forgiveness,
Which I think is everybody, more or less;
Be kind - that, perhaps, is first and foremost
In any postmodern, new-fangled
Code we devise for ourselves;
Yes, be kind: love one another,
And most of all tend with gentleness
The small patch of terra firma
That is allocated to each of us ... ~ Alexander McCall Smith

Old-time ranchers planted cheatgrass because it would green up fast in the spring and provide early forage for grazing cattle," Oyster says, nodding his head at the world outside.

This first patch of cheatgrass was in southern British Columbia, Canada, in 1889. But fire spreads it. Every year, it dries to gunpowder, and now land that used to burn every ten years, it burns every year. And the cheatgrass recovers fast. Cheatgrass loves fire. But the native plants, the sagebrush and desert phlox, they don't. And every year it burns, there's more cheatgrass and less anything else. And the deer and antelope that depended on those other plants are gone now. So are the rabbits. So are the hawks and owls that ate the rabbits. The mice starve, so the snakes that ate the mice starve.

Today, cheatgrass dominates the inland deserts from Canada to Nevada, covering an area over twice the size of the state of Nebraska and spreading by thousands of acres per year.

The big irony is, even cattle hate cheatgrass, Oyster says. So the cows, they eat the rare native bunch grasses. What's left of them...

"When you think about it from a native plant perspective," Oyster says, "Johnny Appleseed was a fucking biological terrorist."

Johnny Appleseed, he says, might as well be handing out smallpox. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

I situate myself, and seat myself,
And where you recline I shall recline,
For every armchair belonging to you as good as belongs to me.
I loaf and curl up my tail
I yawn and loaf at my ease after rolling in the catnip patch.
(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP) ~ Henry N. Beard

I had joked about my bones being found by the roadside. Notify the four winds. Up here i might never be found. Keen-eyed vultures would pick the bones clean. Wind and rain would bleach them and in time they'd dissolve into the earth.
I looked up, and a gust of wind swirled the mist, and i saw that glint of gold, so close now, just up ahead. one last effort, to haul and drag myself up over ragged rocks, and at last I stood, breath rasping, limbs shaking, my body one long ache, covered in grime and thick greasy sweat, in front of Hakuyu's cave. The patch of colour I'd seen was a simple bamboo blind, yellowed with age, and painted on it was the outline of a dragon, and the dragon's eye was a dot of gold. That was what had led me all this way. ~ Alan Spence

A person taking stock in middle age is like an artist or composer looking at an unfinished work; but whereas the composer and the painter can erase some of their past efforts, we cannot. We are stuck with what we have lived through. The trick is to finish it with a sense of design and a flourish rather than to patch up the holes or merely to add new patches to it. ~ Harry S. Broudy

Patch grief with proverbs. ~ William Shakespeare

I dug the untraceable phone Patch had given me out of my handbag and dialled his number.
"I have a free couple of hours," I told him, walking toward my car, which was parked on the next block. "There's a very dark, very secluded barn in Lookout Hill Park behind the carousel. I could be there in fifteen minutes."
I heard the smile in his voice."You want me bad."
"I need and an endorphin boost."
"And making out in an abandoned barn with me will give you one?"
"No, it will probably put me in an endorphin coma, and I'm more than happy to test the theory. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Minerva, kindly go to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here. ~ J.K. Rowling

I am extremely intentional in making the environment around me playful and loving. I have great skill in that area. ~ Patch Adams

A long hallway, hung profusely with dark, water-stained sporting prints, served as a lobby, in which centuries of sacrificed kippers had left the smell of their smoky souls clinging to the wallpaper. Only the patch of sunshine visible through the open front door relieved the gloom ~ Alan Bradley

Had John Updike been African, he would have won the Nobel Prize twenty years ago. I feel sure that his material hobbled him. Shillington, Pennsylvania, simply did not measure up to his extravagant gifts. And sadder yet are those who haven't even a fraction of Updike's talent and yet must hoe the same arid patch for stories. No ~ Teju Cole

I can read the two of you as easily as I can a watermelon patch in broad daylight. ~ Haruki Murakami

With all the infinite possibilities of spiritual life before you, do not settle down on a little patch of dusty ground at the mountain's foot in restful content. Be not content until you reach the mountain's summit. ~ J.R. Miller

Dante said, "I tried talking Nora into a ride, but she keeps blowing me off."
"That's because she has a hard-A boyfriend. He must have been
homeschooled, because he missed all those valuable lessons we learned in kindergarten, like sharing. He finds out you took Nora for a ride, he'll wrap this shiny new Porsche around the nearest tree. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

He was hungry, and his first thought was to collect a dozen or two gulls' eggs to make a meal. But embryo chicks were forming in all of them. So he rowed out to do some fishing and was more succesful. He lived on fish from day to day and sang and whiled the time away and ruled over the island. When it rained he too shelter beneath a splendid overhangig rock. At night he slept on a patch of grass and the sun never set. ~ Knut Hamsun

This creative tension between wonderful and terrible is named so well by Gerard Manley Hopkins, as only poets can. Even the long title of his poem reveals his acceptance of the ever-changing flow of Heraclites and also his trust in the final outcome: "That Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection." Flesh fade, and mortal trash fall to the residuary worm; world's wildfire, leave but ash: In a flash, at a trumpet crash, I am all at once what Christ is, since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, ~ Richard Rohr

We go outside.
We rake the leaves.
We pile them way up high.
We jump on top.
We toss them up and watch the colors fly.
What can we do with all these leaves?
I know. I have a plan.
We run inside and find old clothes.
We'll make a pumpkin man.
We button all the buttons.
We tie up legs and sleeves.
We fill and stuff the body with lots of crunchy leaves.
We give him gloves.
We give him boots.
We're having so much fun.
It's time to pick a pumpkin head.
We'll find the nicest one.
Some are short and some are tall.
Some are bumpy.
Some are small.
We look around the pumpkin patch.
We find the best of all!
We cut the top to get inside.
We scoop out all the seeds.
We draw a face and cut it out.
A light is all it needs.
We go outside at sunset, put the pumpkin head in place.
Our pumpkin man smiles back at us with a happy, glowing face. ~ Judith Moffatt

It was a wild indulgent slope we had cascaded down, and I didn't care. For once in my life, I didn't care about tomorrow. I didn't care if I starved or died. I feasted on the now, and I didn't let myself think about who he was or who I was, only who we were right now in this moment and how he made me feel on this patch of earth, in this patch of shade. In this strange upside-down world, ignoring tomorrow seemed as natural and expected as breathing. ~ Mary E. Pearson

Mom calls me Patch-a-roo and Patch-a-roo-ny. She usually croons these names to me or crows them as if she's imitating the rooster. I know this is a little odd, but I'm a really special dog. Of course, sometimes she calls me Stink-a-roo. ~ Lea Beall

When we arrived in England, we could almost feel the excitement in the air. Banners, pictures, and other decorations hung everywhere, and the streets were packed with people waiting to celebrate the wedding of the century. The formal party in honor of the royal match was held on the evening of Monday, July 27--two nights before the wedding. That day I felt nervous with anticipation as I lunched with a friend and went to the hairdresser. Pat met Exxon colleagues for lunch near their office in Mayfair. As he described our plans for the upcoming ball and wedding, Pat began to feel totally overwhelmed by the importance and glamour of these royal events. So my darling husband excused himself, walked over to Green Park just across from the palace, and simply collapsed with nervous strain to nap on a quiet patch of grass for the afternoon. I've always envied his ability to tune out and relax when he's under stress; I get tense and can't eat or sleep. ~ Mary Robertson

It is not hard to change when your biggest problem is whether the weeds prosper in a vegetable patch. ~ David Gemmell

I'm going to grab a cheeseburger," I told Patch. "Want anything?"
"Nothing on the menu."
I smiled. "Why, Patch, are you flirting with me? ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

And you remember how warm bourbon tasted, in a paper cup with water dipped out of the lake at your feet. How the nights were so unbearably, hauntingly beautiful that you wanted to cry. How every patch of light and shadow from the moon seemed deep and lovely. Calm or storm, it didn't matter. It was exquisite and mysterious, just because it was night. I wonder now how I lost it, the mysteriousness, the wonder. It faded steadily until one day it was entirely gone, and night became just dark, and the moon was only something that waxed and waned and heralded a changing in the weather. And rain just washed out graveled roads. The glitter was gone. And the worst part was that you didn't know exactly at what point it disappeared. There was nothing you could point to and say: now, there. One day you saw that it was missing and had been missing for a long time. It wasn't even anything to grieve over, it had been such a long time passing. The glitter and hush-breath quality just slipped away...there isn't even a scene--not for me, nothing so definite--just the seepage, the worms of time...I look at my children now and I think: how long before they slip away, before I am disappointed in them. ~ Shirley Ann Grau

Raphael pulled out a paperback and handed it to me. The cover, done back in the time when computer-aided imagine manipulation had risen to the level of art, featured an impossibly handsome man, leaning forward, one foot in a huge black boot resting on the carcass of some monstrous sea creature. His hair flowed down to his shoulders in a mane of white gold, in stark contrast to his tanned skin and the rakish black patch hiding his left eye. His white, translucent shirt hung open, revealing abs of steel and a massive, perfectly carved chest graced by erect nipples. His muscled thighs strained the fabric of his pants, which were unbuttoned and sat loosely on his narrow hips, a touch of a strategically positioned shadow hinting at the world's biggest boner.
The cover proclaimed in loud golden letters: The Privateer's Virgin Mistress, by Lorna Sterling.
"Novel number four for Andrea's collection?" I guessed.
Raphael nodded and took the book from my hands. "I've got the other one Andrea wanted, too. Can you explain something to me?"
Oh boy. "I can try."
He tapped the book on his leather-covered knee. "The pirate actually holds this chick's brother for ransom, so she'll sleep with him. These men, they aren't real men. They're pseudo-bad guys just waiting for the love of a 'good' woman."
"You actually read the books?"
He gave me a chiding glance. "Of course I read the books. It's all pirates and the women they steal, apparently so they can enjoy lo ~ Ilona Andrews

It is the opinion of most thoughtful students of life that happiness in this world depends chiefly on the ability to take things as they come. An instance of one who may be said to have perfected this attitude is to be found in the writings of a certain eminent Arabian author who tells of a traveller who, sinking to sleep one afternoon upon a patch of turf containing an acorn, discovered when he woke that the warmth of his body had caused the acorn to germinate and that he was now some sixty feet above the ground in the upper branches of a massive oak. Unable to descend, he faced the situation equably. 'I cannot,' he observed, 'adapt circumstances to my will: therefore I shall adapt my will to circumstances. I decide to remain here.' Which he did. ~ P.G. Wodehouse