Pelican Bay Quotes

And to love such a librarian requires a surrendering to her eccentricities, a bowing to her pathological quietness, an obeisance to a reticence that is utterly untreatable. If you cannot commit to this sort of dedication, then let her be. Let her wander in wonder among her books and live out her days in her own world without you. ~ Jesse Giles Christiansen

I should have known right then that I was dreaming. But oh how we hang on to dreams even when we are gifted the largest of clues. ~ Jesse Giles Christiansen

But as it turned out, the two had a great deal in common, for both Bailey and Thackeray (named for the famous novelist William Makepeace Thackeray, author of Vanity Fair) were devoted bibliophiles who believed that "a book a day kept the world at bay," as Thackeray was fond of saying. Bailey was the offspring of a generation of badgers who insisted that "Reader" was the most rewarding vocation to which a virtuous badger might be called and who gauged their week's anticipated pleasure by the height of their to-be-read pile. (Perhaps you know people like this. I do.) ~ Susan Wittig Albert

New forms of media - first movies, then television, talk radio and now the Internet - tend to challenge traditional codes of conduct. They flout convention, shake up the status quo and sometimes provoke outrage. ~ Willow Bay

Harlow exhaled. "And you're not wearing the On the Prowl for my Next Baby Daddy shirt?" That got a laugh out of me. "God, I love that shirt. Talk about a surefire way to keep the boys and their come-ons at bay ... " I had to glance down to remember which tee I'd slid into to ensure the guys kept their distance. Ah, classic. No Daddy Issues or Low Self-Esteem Here. "Do ~ Nicole Williams

I spent two years playing open mic nights in Brighton, and I heard more and more people saying, 'You should give it a go in London.' ~ James Bay

I did not think of myself as a violent man. But the more times we were attacked, the more lives we lost, the harder it was to keep those demons at bay. It was another moment I found myself thankful to have Jerry. He was the rational, intelligent one. He kept me from letting the anger completely consume me and from doing anything really stupid. He prevented me from running wild through the streets of Yusafiah.
But it was clear I was losing my grip on reality. One evening I was on the roof of a building at an intersection in some little town. I wasn't wearing my helmet or my vest. I was just in a T-shirt. The roofs were flat and there was about a two-foot-high wall at the ledge. I stood there with my right foot propped up on the wall and looked out at the little town. I felt fueled with power. Like I was having the ultimate manly man moment. I could see then why people say power is addictive. I felt high on it in that moment. All my life I had strived to be "manly." Everything I did was about being "the man." And in that moment that is how I felt: completely dominant. As I stood on that roof unprotected and not giving a shit, I looked out over the town and said to myself, but as if I were talking to all of them, "Work with me or against me. I can either destroy you or I can help you." I believed every word of that. Nothing could touch me. No one could hurt me. I was completely invincible. ~ Noah Galloway

Pleasuring her might've kept the blackness at bay , but if I took her, if I selfishly fucked her to sate myself, was there a chance I could kill her? ~ Keri Lake

It kept him alive, he was certain; even more, it kept his darkest of his demons at bay. ~ Lara Adrian

It sometimes seemed to Alex that the whole universe was against him. Getting away from FLamingo Bay had almost killed him. It had been an exhausting struggle against time, the elements, and Drevin's firepower.
And now he was going back.
It was the CIA agent, Ed Shulsky, who had made it happen.
Alex, you know the place. I need you to tell me where they're holding Tamara. You can give me a layout of the island. Anyway, we don't have much time. You saw for yourself. The rocket is on its way, and if what you've told me is true-"
It is." Alex felt a spurt of annoyance. Why should the American doubt, even for a moment, what he said? Was it perhaps because he was only fourteen?
Shulsky noticed his reaction. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. But this plan of his, Ark Angel...Washington..." He shook his head. "It's beyond anything we could have imagined. And that's why we have to take him out. Right now. We don't have time to drop you off."
But you're too late," Alex argued. "Gabriel 7 has gone. What are going to do? Shoot it down? ~ Anthony Horowitz

We ride the blades again
beside the crooked bay. You smile.
I hold you like a hole holds light.

We wear our hats and ride the knives.
They cannot fix you. They try and try.
Tunnel! Into the dark open we go.
Days you are sick, we get dressed slow. ~ Maria Hummel

Captain Quinn have the details, as usual?" She cocked a furry eyebrow at him. "Captain Quinn . . . will not be coming on this mission." He swore her gold eyes widened, the pupils dilating. Her lips drew back baring her fangs further in what took him a terrifying moment to realize was a smile. In a weird way, it reminded him of the grin with which Thorne had greeted that same news. She glanced up; the bay had emptied of other personnel. "Aah?" Her voice rumbled, like a purr. "Well, I'll be your bodyguard any time, lover. Just give me the sign." What sign, what the hell - She ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

I savored every yes, every more, every oh, every there, every please. I wanted every one of her words. I knew what it was not to have them - I'd never take them for granted. ~ Louise Bay

Do Chinese dragons even eat people?" "She lives in the Bay Area," I say severely. "She eats a Westernized diet. ~ Courtney Milan

Maybe I have just a younger voice than many other directors. ~ Michael Bay

To wonder sadly, did I say? No: a new influence began to act upon my life, and sadness, for a certain space, was held at bay. Conceive a dell, deep-hollowed in forest secresy; it lies in dimness and mist: its turf is dank, its herbage pale and humid. A storm or an axe makes a wide gap amongst the oak-trees; the breeze sweeps in; the sun looks down; the sad, cold dell becomes a deep cup of lustre; high summer pours her blue glory and her golden light out of that beauteous sky, which till now the starved hollow never saw. A new creed became mine - a belief in happiness. ~ Charlotte Bronte

What about the entrance to the cave?" she asked. He snapped his fingers as if he'd forgotten all about it.
"Excellent point."
Myrnin dragged the largest, heaviest table over, top down, and covered up with it the hole he'd made in the floor. Then he took handfuls of broken glass and mounded it up on all sides.
Myrnin artistically sprinkled some more broken glass. "There," Myrnin said, and backed off to the stairs again. "What do you think?"
"Fabulous." She sighed. "Brilliant job of camouflage."
"Normally, I'd add a corpse," he said, "just to keep people at bay. But that might be good enough. ~ Rachel Caine

The marquess lifted his palm to her, a man held in wind-tousled grace, waiting; still as the eye of a tempest was still, inexorable force only momentarily at bay. The heels of his shoes rested at the very, very edge of the rooftop. If the wind changed, if he lost his balance-
Beyond him were only trees and sky, the dark-misted storm sweeping emerald hills up to heaven.
"You are mad," Rue said again, but she found herself moving toward him. His fingers closed over hers; he raised her hand to his mouth and held it there, warming her skin with his.
"I prefer the word dashing.'
She huffed a breath, almost a laugh.
"Oh, and one more thing." Above their locked fingers he granted her a new smile, this one slow and blazingly sensual. "Little brown-haired girl ... I did notice you."
He Turned to smoke.
-Rue & Kit ~ Shana Abe

It is one thing to look at a mistreated boat and another to look at a tomb. The silence of the bay seemed more intense. And I could see the glint of the carrion flies. ~ John D. MacDonald

Maybe blow-up dolls invaded Ireland during the Dark Ages, landing in the bay here. They raped the men and pillaged the women, adopted the children to imprint their rubbery ways on them, turning them into blow-up orphans. Hence,' she concludes, 'Dollymount Strand. ~ Jonathan Dunne

Anxious people are resorceful, they need to know how to keep the sea of panic at bay so they do not drown. ~ Nikita Gill

The First Amendment protects our freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to practice religion, to peacefully assemble, and the right to petition the government. This is true tolerance as defined by our founding documents. This is the right of all American citizens. Does the right of free speech end on college campuses of higher learning? Does it end when you step into a designated "safe space" at your local university? Does it end if your choice of words is construed to be a "trigger warning" when you walk into a classroom?

The answer obviously should be no. Unfortunately, the answer today on most college campuses is yes. And take this warning seriously: it won't end there.

The commentator Andrew Sullivan has noted the student anti-free-speech movement "manifests itself . . . almost as a religion". He continues:

"It posits a classic orthodoxy through which all of human experience is explained--and through which all speech must be filtered. Its version of original sin is the power of some identity groups over others. To overcome this sin, you need first to confess, i.e., "check your privilege", and subsequently live your life and order your thoughts in a way that keeps this sin at bay. This sin goes so deep into your psyche, especially if you are white or male or straight, that a profound conversion is required.

It operates as a religion in one other critical dimension: If you happen to see the world in a different way, if ~ Everett Piper

On the road to Mandalay, Where the flyin'-fishes play, An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer; China 'crost the Bay! ~ Rudyard Kipling

We aren't using Guantanamo Bay anymore to take additional terrorists. That was the perfect facility to be able to use to extract information from people to keep the American people safe. ~ Michele Bachmann

Hawaii was beautiful of course, we played at Turtle Bay an amazing resort right on the ocean. ~ Natalie Gulbis

Outside, the night was soft and fresh. There was a half-moon shining brightly in a field of stars, a glowing ring of light surrounding it, and it had made a trail across the bay that showed in places through the darker screen of trees.
They walked in silence, and she breathed the mingled scents of wildflowers sleeping in the shadows, and the salt air of the sea.
He had not let go of her hand. She did not want him to. They did not leave the clearing but at length they reached its edge, where rustling branches stretched above them and the light and noise and music of the barn seemed far away. One heart-shaped leaf fell from a nearby tree and landed on his shoulder and unthinkingly she lifted her free hand to brush it off before it marked the white coat she had worked so hard and long to clean.
She felt him looking down at her, and glancing up self-consciously she started to explain. And lost the words.
And then he bent his head and kissed her.
Everything around her seemed to stop, and still, and cease to matter. She could not have said how long it lasted. Not long, probably. It was a gentle kiss but at the same time fierce and sure and full of all the pent-up feelings she herself had fought these past months, and now she knew he had felt them just as she had, and had fought them, too. It was a great release to give up fighting. Give up everything, and float in the sensation. ~ Susanna Kearsley

A man can die. He is glorious when he calmly accepts death; but when he fights like a tiger, when he stands at bay his back to the wall, a broken weapon in his hand, bloody, defiant, game to the end, then he is sublime. Then he wrings respect from the souls of even his bitterest foes. Then he is avenged even in his death. ~ Zane Grey

Too anxious to sit still, she stood in the stirrups to stretch her legs, then moved her bottom back and forth in the saddle until she found a comfortable spot to settle.
She dallied her reins loosely around the saddle horn and reached up to unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse, then leaned over and shook the cotton cloth back and forth to cool herself. Her Stetson hat came off next. She settled it on the saddle horn, so what little breeze there was could reach the sweat on her nape.
"What the hell kind of strip show are you putting on?"
Bay nearly fell out of the saddle at Owen's angry outburst. She jerked upright, knocking her hat off the horn and onto the ground. Her horse saw the shadow when it fell, figured it for a dangerous, horse-eating jackrabbit, and shied violently toward Owen's mount.
His horse took exception to being bumped and kicked out with both hooves, striking Bay's horse in the rump, which grabbed for the reins, but they fell loose from the horn, and she was helpless to restrain her mount when he began to run helter-skelter down the canyon, sunfishing and crowhopping.
Bay was thrown up onto her mount's neck, where she held on for dear life. She heard Owen galloping behind her and knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up to her. But a narrow passage was coming up, and there wasn't room for both her and her horse. She was going to be scraped off. Unless she jumped first.
From her precious perch, Bay stared dow ~ Joan Johnston

Naomi coughed. It was wet, painful sound, but the medical bay didn't seem concerned. The machine had a shitty bedside manner. ~ James S.A. Corey

You can't go."
"Give me a reason why I shouldn't."
"Because I'll miss you, damn it!" she hissed, splaying her arms. "Because what's the point in anything if you just disappear forever?"
"The point in what, Celaena?" How could he be so calm when she was so frantic?
"The point in Skull's Bay, and the point in getting me that music, and the point in ... the point in telling Arobynn that you'd forgive him if he never hurt me again."
"You said you didn't care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I'm not mistaken."
"I lied! And you know I lied you stupid bastard! ~ Sarah J. Maas

Some years ago I had a conversation with a man who thought that writing and editing fantasy books was a rather frivolous job for a grown woman like me. He wasn't trying to be contentious, but he himself was a probation officer, working with troubled kids from the Indian reservation where he'd been raised. Day in, day out, he dealt in a concrete way with very concrete problems, well aware that his words and deeds could change young lives for good or ill.
I argued that certain stories are also capable of changing lives, addressing some of the same problems and issues he confronted in his daily work: problems of poverty, violence, and alienation, issues of culture, race, gender, and class...
"Stories aren't real," he told me shortly. "They don't feed a kid left home in an empty house. Or keep an abusive relative at bay. Or prevent an unloved child from finding 'family' in the nearest gang."
Sometimes they do, I tried to argue. The right stories, read at the right time, can be as important as shelter or food. They can help us to escape calamity, and heal us in its aftermath. He frowned, dismissing this foolishness, but his wife was more conciliatory. "Write down the names of some books," she said. "Maybe we'll read them."
I wrote some titles on a scrap of paper, and the top three were by Charles de lint – for these are precisely the kind of tales that Charles tells better than anyone. The vital, necessary stories. The ones that can change and heal young live ~ Terri Windling

Swirling in a squirrel cage of perpetual motion, the head-committee meets, argues, votes out the guidance available from emotions, and successfully keeps serenity at bay and chaos close at hand. ~ David W. Earle

I'd love to say something heroic. I'd love to say we made history. But basically it was a bunch of guys parked around the Bay there, and somebody grabbed a board and went surfing, and it looked so good the rest of us guys said, 'Hey, we got to get in on this.' ~ Greg Noll

Lights from across the bay twinkled in the night and Christmas carols played softly in the background. She wished for snow to fall to add to the season. ~ Sharon Brubaker

I can't bring myself to open my eyes. I am an ember, glowing from the inside out. The dark and silent room keeps everything else at bay, every sensation, except the two of us, Nick and Lily, who have just made love. ~ Beatriz Williams

He'd seen unequivocally that the chaos he'd dedicated his life to holding at bay was stronger and wider and more powerful than he would ever be. No compromise he could make would be enough. His death-self was unfolding in him, and the dark blooming took no effort. It was a relief, a relaxation, a long, slow exhale after decades of holding it in.
He was in ruins, but it was okay, because he was dying. ~ James S.A. Corey

The woman who keeps her emotions at bay can find the way. ~ Orest Stelmach

There are some pop songs I hate but I can't get them out of my head. Our songs also have the standard pop format: Verse, chorus, verse, chorus, solo, bad solo. All in all, I think we sound like The Knack and the Bay City Rollers being molested by Black Flag and Black Sabbath. ~ Kurt Cobain

LIV. There is no 'one cap fits all' solution for keeping stress at bay. You have to choose individually. ~ Moazzam Shaikh

Who demonstrated to him that the Bay of Lisbon had been made on purpose for the Anabaptist to be drowned. ~ Voltaire

We are all such escape artists, you and I. We don't like to get too serious about things, especially about ourselves. When we are with other people, we are apt to talk about almost anything under the sun except for what really matters to us, except for our own lives, except for what is going on inside our own skins. We pass the time of day. We chatter. We hold each other at bay, keep our distance from each other even when God knows it is precisely each other that we desperately need. ~ Frederick Buechner

Isn't it nice that people who prefer Los Angeles to San Francisco live there? ~ Herb Caen

God took the beauty of the Bay of Naples, the Valley of the Nile, the Swiss Alps, the Hudson River Valley, rolled them into one and made San Francisco Bay. ~ Fiorello H. La Guardia

The lord of light made the sun and moon and stars to light our day, and gave us fire to keep the night at bay. ~ George R R Martin

I'm going to take each day and each thing and each gig as it comes at me. ~ James Bay

Then there were the giants. Dozens of bright-blue men, each thirty feet tall with gray frosty hair, were wading through the forests, fishing in the bay, and striding across the mountains. ~ Rick Riordan

Under the redwood tree my grave was laid, and I beguiled my true love to lie down. The stream of our kiss put a waterway around the world, where love like a refugee sailed in the last ship. My hair made a shroud, and kept the coyotes at bay while we wrote our cyphers with anatomy. The winds boomed triumph, our spines seemed overburdened, and our bones groaned like old trees, but a smile like a cobweb was fastened across the mouth of the cave of fate.

Fear will be a terrible fox at my vitals under my tunic of behaviour.
Oh, canary, sing out in the thunderstorm, prove your yellow pride. Give me a reason for courage or a way to be brave. But nothing tangible comes to rescue my besieged sanity, and I cannot decipher the code of the eucalyptus thumping on my roof.
I am unnerved by the opponents of God, and God is out of earshot. I must spin good ghosts out of my hope to oppose the hordes at my window. If those who look in see me condescend to barricade the door, they will know too much and crowd in to overcome me.
The parchment philosopher has no traffic with the night, and no conception of the price of love. With smoky circles of thought he tries to combat the fog, and with anagrams to defeat anatomy. I posture in vain with his weapons, even though I am balmed with his nicotine herbs.
Moon, moon, rise in the sky to be a reminder of comfort and the hour when I was brave. ~ Elizabeth Smart

For several months they'd been drifting toward political involvement, but the picture was hazy and one of the most confusing elements was their geographical proximity to Berkeley, the citadel of West Coast radicalism. Berkeley is right next door to Oakland, with nothing between them but a line on the map and a few street signs, but in many ways they are as different as Manhattan and the Bronx. Berkeley is a college town and, like Manhattan, a magnet for intellectual transients. Oakland is a magnet for people who want hour-wage jobs and cheap housing, who can't afford to live in Berkeley, San Francisco or any of the middle-class Bay Area suburbs. [10] It is a noisy, ugly, mean-spirited place, with the sort of charm that Chicago had for Sandburg. It is also a natural environment for hoodlums, brawlers, teenage gangs and racial tensions.

The Hell's Angels' massive publicity -- coming hard on the heels of the widely publicized student rebellion in Berkeley -- was interpreted in liberal-radical-intellectual circles as the signal for a natural alliance. Beyond that, the Angels' aggressive, antisocial stance -- their alienation, as it were -- had a tremendous appeal for the more aesthetic Berkeley temperament. Students who could barely get up the nerve to sign a petition or to shoplift a candy bar were fascinated by tales of the Hell's Angels ripping up towns and taking whatever they wanted. Most important, the Angels had a reputation for defying police, for successfully ~ Hunter S. Thompson

There may not be any romance to mental illness but who needs romance when the preferable route is agency? The prevailing conversation around mental health issues is agency and the lack thereof on the part of the mentally ill. But what do you do if you're a paid-up member of the mentally ill populace in question? Do you curl up into a ball and give up? No, you look for solutions. Ultimately, it's about keeping despair at bay and sometimes simple things like running, taking up a hobby, doing charity work, painting or, in my case, writing can be a galvanizing part of the recovery process. Keeping the brain and the body active can give life a semblance of pleasure and hope. This is what writing has done for me. I took every traumatic element of my condition and channelled it into something useful. ~ Diriye Osman