Red Tide Quotes

Others may not notice it, because an angry Toraf is truly a rare thing to behold, but Galen can practically feel the animosity emanating from his friend. Which is why he casually bumps into him, taking care to be overly apologetic.
"Oh, sorry about that, minnow. I didn't even see you there." Galen mimics Toraf's demeanor, crossing his arms and staring ahead of them. What they're supposed to be staring at, he's not sure.
His effort is rewarded with a slight upward curve of his friend's mouth. "Oh, don't think twice about it, tadpole. I know it must be difficult to swim straight with a whale's tail."
Galen scowls, taking care not to glance down at his fin. Ever since they went to retrieve Grom, he's been sore all below the waist, but he'd just attributed it to tension from finding Nalia, and then the whole tribunal mess-not to mention, hovering in place for hours at a time. Still, he did examine his fin the evening before, hoping to massage out any knots he found, but was a bit shocked to see that his fin span seemed to have widened. He decided that he was letting his imagination get the better of him. Now he's not so sure. "What do you mean?" he says lightly.
Toraf nods down toward the sand. "You know what I mean. Looks like you have the red fever."
"The red fever bloats you all over, idiot. Right before it kills you. It doesn't make your fin grow wider. Besides, the red tide hasn't been bad for years now." But Toraf already knows what the red fever lo ~ Anna Banks

Oh Bodi, Double Stuf Oreos are not a manly cookie. Double Stuf Oreos were specifically engineered by Nabisco for raging pregnant women and for those of us riding the red tide into Crampsville, but you're cute for thinking otherwise. ~ Meghan Quinn

There is magic in this sad, hard world. A magic stronger than fate, stronger than chance. And it is seen in the unlikeliest of places.
By a hearth at night, as girl leaves a bit of cheese for a hungry mouse.
In a slaughter yard, as the old and infirm, the weak and discarded, are made to matter more than money.
In a poor carpenter's small attic room, where three sisters learned that the price of forgiveness is forgiving.
And now, on a battlefield, as a mere girl tries to turn the red tide of war.
It is the magic of a frail and fallible creature, one capable of both unspeakable cruelty and immense kindness. It lives inside every human being ready to redeem us. To transform us. To save us. If we can only find the courage to listen to it.
It is the magic of the human heart. ~ Jennifer Donnelly

Alaska and Montana are not in the south but they definitely form part of the crimson tide of red states where Republicans are dominant. ~ Juan Williams

Death exists--in a paperweight, in four red and white balls on a billiard table--and we go on living and breathing it into our lungs like fine dust. ~ Haruki Murakami

We came to Macun when I was four, to a rectangle of rippled metal sheets on stilts hovering in the middle of a circle of red dirt. ~ Esmeralda Santiago

I think it's actually worse to lack all conviction. Because then you just go along, you know? You're just a bubble on the tide of empire. ~ John Green

When rowan leaves are dank and rusting And rowan berries red as blood, When in my palm the hangman's thrusting The final nail with bony thud, When, over the foul flooding river, Upon the wet grey height, I toss Before my land's grim looks, and shiver As I swing here upon the cross, Then, through the blood and weeping, stretches My dying sight to space remote; I see upon the river's reaches Christ sailing to me in a boat. ~ Alexander Blok

I want to be able to walk a red carpet and look great but also be able to shred onstage and move. So I tend to go for comfort over anything - I like menswear-inspired stuff but I also like getting glam once in awhile. Whatever I wear, I like it to feel very strong and very unique. ~ Debby Ryan

The burst of love I felt for her spread through me like blue paint turning red to purple. ~ Chelsey Philpot

God help me, what I wanted to do was to sweep her into my arms and clasp her to my manly bosom and pour words of soft comfort and consolation into her shell-like ear, as any red-blooded male would do. ~ Rosy Thornton

Chorus:
'man after man after man
o mortal generations
here once
almost not here
what are we
dust ghosts images a rustling of air
nothing nothing
we breathe on the abyss
we are the abyss
our happiness no more than traces of a dream
the high noon sun sinking into the sea
the red spume of its wake raining behind it
we are you
we are you Oedipus
dragging your maimed foot
in agony
and now that I see your life finally revealed
your life fused with the god
blazing out of the black nothingness of all we know
I say
no happiness lasts nothing human lasts ~ Sophocles

Like a blood-red sky that warns the passerby, "There is a fire over there," certain blazing looks often reveal passions that they serve merely to reflect. They are flames in the mirror. ~ Marcel Proust

Then Agnes came out the front door and down the steps with a tray of drinks, dark curls bouncing and red-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose again, wearing some kind of red dress with straps that tied on her shoulders and a skirt that whipped around her legs in the breeze, and Shane's thoughts jumped track until she led the other two women around the side of the house to the gazebo.
Agnes had damn good legs. And a great back. One pull on those ties- And she'd smiled at him, standing there in the morning sunlight. Might have been an invitation. Might not have been, too. Probably should make sure before he started untying things. ~ Jennifer Crusie

The United States will eventually fly the Communist red flag ... The American people will hoist it themselves. ~ Nikita Khrushchev

Globalization has shipped products at a faster rate than anything else; it's moved English into schools all over the world so that now there is Dutch English and Filipino English and Japanese English. But the ideologies stay in their places. They do not spread like the swine flu, or through sexual contact. They spread through books and films and things of that nature. The dictatorships of Latin America used to ban books, they used to burn them, just like Franco did, like Pope Gregory IX and Emperor Qin Shi Huang. Now they don't have to because the best place to hide ideologies is in books. The dictatorships are mostly gone - Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay. The military juntas. Our ideologies are not secrets. Even the Ku Klux Klan holds open meetings in Alabama like a church. None of the Communists are still in jail. You can buy Mao's red book at the gift shop at the Museum of Communism. I will die soon, in the next five to ten years. I have not seen progress during my lifetime. Our lives are too short and disposable. If we had longer life expectancies, if we lived to 200, would we work harder to preserve life or, do you think that when Borges said, 'Jews, Christians, and Muslims all profess belief in immortality, but the veneration paid to the first century of life is proof that they truly believe in only those hundred years, for they destine all the rest, throughout eternity, to rewarding or punishing what one did when alive,' we would simply alter it to say 'first two centuries ~ John M. Keller

Livia watched the man turn bright red. She heard Blake's words in her mind, You're not invisible to them.
Well, screw them. That was the best kiss of my life, and these jerks were lucky to witness it. ~ Debra Anastasia

I have never felt 'fat;' I just didn't realise how unhealthy I was until I look back at pictures. In the moment, I felt so beautiful, and I remember walking down red carpets with my make-up done in a little sparkly dress, and I thought I was so cute. ~ Khloe Kardashian

O, the red rose may be fair, And the lily statelier; But my shamrock, one in three Takes the very heart of me! ~ Katharine Tynan

They loved scenes of righteous Godly vengeance on sinful mankind. They loved to show God's chosen people safe from harm, watching with happy faces as they were proved right to the world. But they never showed the aftermath. They never showed weeping humans, crushed and dying in pools of their own fluids. Young men smashed into piles of red flesh. A young woman cut in half because she was passing through a hatchway when catastrophe hit. This was Armageddon. This is what it looked like. Blood and torn flesh and cries for help. ~ James S.A. Corey

The Frays had never been a religiously observant family, but Clary loved Fifth Avenue at Christmas time. The air smelled like sweet roasted chestnuts, and the window displays sparkled with silver and blue, green and red. This year there were fat round crystal snowflakes attached to each lamppost, sending back the winter sunlight in shafts of gold. Not to mention the huge tree at Rockefeller Center. It threw its shadow across them as she and Simon draped themselves over the gate at the side of the skating rink, watching tourists fall down as they tried to navigate the ice.

Clary had a hot chocolate wrapped in her hands, the warmth spreading through her body. She felt almost normal - this, coming to Fifth to see the window displays and the tree, had been a winter tradition for her and Simon for as long as she could remember.

"Feels like old times, doesn't it?" he said, echoing her thoughts as he propped his chin on his folded arms.

She chanced a sideways look at him. He was wearing a black topcoat and scarf that emphasized the winter pallor of his skin. His eyes were shadowed, indicating that he hadn't fed on blood recently. He looked like what he was - a hungry, tired vampire.

Well, she thought. Almost like old times. "More people to buy presents for," she said. "Plus, the always traumatic what-to-buy-someone-for-the-first-Christmas-after-you've-started-dating question."

"What to get the Shadowhunter who has everything," S ~ Cassandra Clare

How can these countries who have stolen land from the Red Indians, the Aborigines, the Eskimos dare to tell us what to do with our land? ~ Robert Mugabe

I trained like an animal, but the thing is focus and concentration. When the bell rings it's like when the little red light goes on over the camera. And I can usually nail my lines on the first or second take because I'm right there. ~ Mickey Rourke

I am writing a book entitled "Conquest." Please be ready. It is a book children should red. ~ Charles Keith Hardman

For those minutes courage flowed like wine out of the November dusk, and he was the eternal hero, one with the sea-rover on the prow of a Norse galley, one with Roland and Horatius, Sir Nigel and Ted Coy, scraped and stripped into trim and then flung by his own will into the breach, beating back the tide, hearing from afar the thunder of cheers . . . finally bruised and weary, but still elusive, circling an end, twisting, changing pace, straight-arming . . . falling behind the Groton goal with two men on his legs, in the only touchdown of the game. THE ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

You will think that they ought to have been very happy. And so they were, but they did not know HOW happy till the pretty life in the Red Villa was over and done with, and they had to live a very different life indeed. The ~ E. Nesbit

It was cold and windy, scarcely the day to take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, seabirds in ones or twos. The rackety, icy, offshore wind numbed our faces on one side; disrupted the formation of a lone flight of Canada geese; and blew back the low, inaudible rollers in upright, steely mist. ~ Elizabeth Bishop

What makes a comedian has nothing to do with religion. Think of Red Skelton, Jimmy Durante, Jackie Gleason, who were all Catholics. ~ Buddy Hackett

But what you do sense, what is unmistakable, is a rising tide of frustration and anger and violence, born partly of the greater familiarity the poor today have with the rich, their faces pressed to that clear window on wealth afforded by ubiquitous television, and partly of the change in mentality that results from an outward shift in the supply curve for firearms. ~ Mohsin Hamid

I know a planet inhabited by a red - faced gentleman. He's never smelled a flower. He's never looked at a star. He's never loved anyone. He's never done anything except add up numbers. And all day long he says over and over, just like you, "I'm a serious man!I'm a serious man!" And that puffs him up with pride. But he's not a man at all- he's a mushroom! ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

You both passed out," Percy said. "I don't know why, but Ella told me not to worry about it. She said you were ... sharing?"
"Sharing," Ella agreed. She crouched in the stern, preening her wing feathers with her teeth, which didn't look like a very effective form of personal hygiene. She spit out some red fluff. "Sharing is good. No more blackouts. Biggest American blackout, August 14, 2003. Hazel shared. No more blackouts."
Percy scratched his head. "Yeah ... we've been having conversations like that all night. I still don't know what she's talking about. ~ Rick Riordan

Exercise? I get it on the golf course. When I see my friends collapse, I run for the paramedics. ~ Red Skelton

I breathed a sigh of relief once the mutual pledge of vows was over. At this point, stewards brought up red and gold benches so the new couple could sit down as the ceremony continued. Prince Charles and Diana also seemed relieved to have completed the critical part of the proceedings. We could see them smile at each other and exchange quiet comments to relieve the tension. ~ Mary Robertson

I live with regrets - the bittersweet loss of innocence - the red track of the moon upon the lake - the inability to return and do it again ... ~ John Geddes

Some days it was bearable; some days it burned. Grief was like the great Southern Ocean; it moved in ebbs and flows, often turbulent and rough, or peaceful and settled, and even over time when I could navigate the waters, the tide never stopped. ~ N.R. Walker

Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. ~ Thomas Hood

Behind the last door is oblivion. Standing before it, one can go forwards or backwards; but beside it are not the places of exquisite pleasure: the faces of pure ones confined to pavilions, reclining on green cushions and beautiful carpets amid thornless lote-trees and banana trees, one over another; for these have gone with the smoke of the opium.

What remains, four years afterwards, are the haunted rooms of the departed: of a young, vigorous man with red hair and an old man left in his blood in a bothy; of a henchman dragged from his horse with an arrow in him, and another, darker of skin, dead of fighting in a Greek courtyard. Of a man returning from perilous seas to drown, seeking his son, near his homeland; of a girl dying blind behind yellow silk curtains, and another burning at night in an African pavilion. And a child, a son … an only son … playing with shells at the feet of the father who shortly would kill it.

One does not, of set purpose, linger long on such a threshold. Sooner or later, the chains must give way; the accusing, querulous voices cease; and the insistent, imperious summons, saying over and over, 'Aucassins, damoisiax, sire! Ja sui jou li vostre amie, Et vos ne me haés mie! ~ Dorothy Dunnett

Shy South comes home to her farm to find a blackened shell, her brother and sister stolen, and knows she'll have to go back to bad old ways if she's ever to see them again. She sets off in pursuit with only her cowardly old step-father Lamb for company. But it turns out he's hiding a bloody past of his own. None bloodier. Their journey will take them across the lawless plains, to a frontier town gripped by gold fever, through feuds, duels, and massacres, high into unmapped mountains to a reckoning with ancient enemies, and force them into alliance with Nicomo Cosca, infamous soldier of fortune, a man no one should ever have to trust ... ~ Joe Abercrombie

It was sort of like Macbeth, thought Fat Charlie, an hour later; in fact, if the witches in Macbeth had been four little old ladies and if, instead of stirring cauldrons and intoning dread incantations, they had just welcomed Macbeth in and fed him turkey and rice and peas spread out on white china plates on a red-and-white patterned plastic tablecloth
not to mention sweet potato pudding and spice cabbage
and encouraged him to take second helpings, and thirds, and then, when Macbeth had declaimed that nay, he was stuffed nigh unto bursting and on his oath could truly eat no more, the witches had pressed upon him their own special island rice pudding and a large slice of Mrs. Bustamonte's famous pineapple upside-down cake, it would have been exactly like Macbeth. ~ Neil Gaiman

The first thing I saw was blue. Blue sweater, blue eyes. Blue. Beautifully blue. Then I saw red as I recognized who belonged to the blue.

"Fucking Wallbanger," I hissed, frozen on the spot.

His grin slid off as well as he played place-the-face for a moment.

"Fucking Pink Nightie Girl," he finally concluded. He grimaced.

We stared, seething as the air literally turned electric between us, snapping and crackling.

The four behind us had fallen silent, listening to this little interchange. Then they caught up.

"That's Wallbanger?" Sophia screeched.

"Wait a minute, that's Pink Nightie Girl?" Neil laughed, and Mimi and Ryan snorted.

My face flamed bright red as I processed this information, and Simon's sneer became that damnable smirk I'd seen that night in the hallway - when I'd banged on his door and made him quit giving it to the Giggler and yelled at him. When I'd been wearing…

"Pink Nightie Girl. Pink Nightie Girl!" I choked out, beyond pissed. Beyond angry. Well into Furious Town. I stared at him, pouring all of my tension into that one look. All of the sleepless nights and lost Os and cold showers and banana thrusting and merciless wet dreams went into that one look.

I wanted to level him with my eyes, make him beg for mercy. But no…Not Simon, Director of the International House Of Orgasms.

He

Was

Still

Smirking. ~ Alice Clayton

I've always wondered how in the hell we conservatives became denoted by red. That's a commie color! It is! The liberals have always been red! ~ Rush Limbaugh

Washington politicians think that government can make better decisions than you and me. But we know better. We know it's smaller, less intrusive government that will lead to real economic prosperity. We know it's business-friendly policies, not more red tape, that will create real growth. ~ Brad Wenstrup

Coloring excited him, not the act of filling in space, but choosing colors that no one else would select. In the green of the hills he saw red. Purple snow, green skin, silver sun. He liked the effect it had on others, that it disturbed his siblings. ~ Patti Smith

In spite of Mr. Poe's fame, the pair made me feel out of sorts, and sad. In one of the busiest cities in the world, they seemed to exist on a bleak island of their own making, their backs turned against the social tide lapping at the battered door. ~ Lynn Cullen

But when, in spite of weakness and disappointments, we set to work in earnest, and persevere steadily, we often find, that, though obliged continually to tack, we make more way than others who have the assistance of wind and tide; and, in truth, there can be no greater satisfaction than to keep pace with others or outstrip them in the race. ~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

The rock struck Piggy a glancing blow from chin to knee; the conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to exist. Piggy, saying nothing, with no time for even a grunt, travelled through the air sideways from the rock, turning over as he went. The rock bounded twice and was lost in the forest. Piggy fell forty feet and landed on his back across that square, red rock in the sea. His head opened and stuff came out and turned red. Piggy's arms and legs twitched a bit, like a pig's after it has been killed. Then the sea breathed again in a long, slow sigh, the water boiled white and pink over the rock; and when it went, sucking back again, the body of Piggy was gone. ~ William Golding

Loss bites and pulls. It is a thing of hooks sunk into every part of you, parts that you would not think could feel loss like thumbs and lips, hooks moored to wind and memory so that slightest disturbance, the slightest act of recall, tugs at those fine lines. Red is the colour of loss and its smell is like burned roses. ~ Ian McDonald

Mom! Look. This one is my favorite," Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. "When I'm old enough for it to fit me, I'm going to wear it with purple shoes," she said.
"A bold choice," Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate's mother's house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate's mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate's grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

Only a few leaves of deep red remain on the otherwise bare limbs of the maples; the oak leaves are russet and wrinkled; briefly through the trees is the glimpse of the bay, flat and steel-gray today with the overcast November sky. ~ Elizabeth Strout

Portugal is a high hill with a white watch tower on it flying signal flags. It is apparently inhabited by one man who lives in a long row of yellow houses with red roofs, and populated by sheep who do grand acts of balancing on the side of the hill. ~ Richard H. Davis