Seven Nights Quotes

My dad was a telegraph operator for the Cotton Belt Railroad. He worked seven nights a week from 4 until midnight, no vacation. ~ Johnny Gimble

He wasn't good enough for her. But by God, he meant to make her happy while he had her. ~ Anna Campbell

He swallowed again and tightened his grip so even if she wanted to leave, she couldn't. It astonished him how difficult it was to find the one word he needed after these exquisite days. The one word he had no right to say.
He forced the forbidden syllable from his tight throat.
Stay. ~ Anna Campbell

Open your mouth, tesoro." He angled her face higher. "Open your mouth for me."
At his raw demand, her eyes flared wide. For a drunken moment, he drowned in glorious brown, rich, autumnal, sensual. ~ Anna Campbell

There was a man here, lashed himself to a spar as his ship went down, and for seven days and seven nights he was on the sea, and what kept him alive while others drowned was telling himself stories like a madman, so that as one ended another began. On the seventh day he had told all the stories he knew and that was when he began to tell himself as if he were a story, from the earliest beginnings to his green and deep misfortune. The story he told was of a man lost and found, not once, but many times, as he choked his way out of the waves. And the night fell, he saw the Cape Wrath light, only lit a week it was, but it was, and he knew that if he became the story of the light, he might be saved. With his last strength he began to paddle towards it, arms on either side of the spar, and in his mind the light became a shining rope, pulling him in. He took hold of it, tied it round his waist, and at that moment, the keeper saw him, and ran for the rescue boat. ~ Jeanette Winterson

What will you do if you win the Scorpio Races?"

I look into the bucket.

"Oh, I'll buy fourteen dresses and build a road and name it after myself and try one of everything at Palsson's."

Though I don't quite look up, I can still feel his gaze on me. It's a heavy thing, this look of his. He says, "What's the real answer?"

But when I try to think of a real answer, it reminds me of Father Mooneyham saying that Gabe had sat in the confessional and cried, and it makes me think of how, no matter what happens in the races, the best option still has Gabe sailing away in a boat. So I snap, "Do you think I just turn my secrets out for everyone?"

He is unfazed. "I didn't know they were secrets," he says. "Or I wouldn't have asked."

It makes me feel ungenerous, since he'd answered so honestly. "I'm sorry," I say. "My mother always said that I was born out of a bottle of vinegar instead of born from a womb and that she and my father bathed me in sugar for three days to wash it off. I try to behave, but I always go back to the vinegar." When Dad was in one of his rare, fanciful moods, he told guests that the pixies left me on the doorstep because I bit their fingers too often. My favorite was always when Mum said that before I was born, it rained for seven days and seven nights solid, and when she went out into the yard to ask the sky what it was weeping for, I dropped out of the clouds at her feet and the sun came out. I alw ~ Maggie Stiefvater

It was I who was conquered. In just seven nights, that fledgling goddess not only discovered that I had a heart, but she stole it forever, then cradled it in the palm of her hand. ~ Celeste Bradley

In fiction, characters could punch their bosses and get away with it.
In real life, you lost your job, and then you were dining on Cup-a-Soup seven nights a week instead of four. ~ Sarah Morgan

Anything goes when everyone knows

Where do you hide when their highs are your lows?

So much, so hard, so long, so tired,

Let them eat until you're ground into nothing.

Don't you worry your glossy little lips.

What they savor 'ventually loses it's flavor.

I wanna lick, while you still taste like you.

Bookmark it, says the cheerleader

I promise we'll come back to this spot.

I have shit to do first. You won't wait a lot.

I can't make her stay,

and I can't watch her go.

I'll keep her hellfire heart,

And bookmark it 'fore it goes cold.

Fifty-seven times I didn't call

Fifty-seven letters I didn't send,

Fifty-seven stitches to breathe again, and then I fucking pretend.

Fifty-seven days to not need you

Fifty-seven times to give up on you

Fifty-seven steps away from you,

Fifty-seven nights of nothing but you. ~ Penelope Douglas

He had been inspired to start a career in the porn industry after reading the incredible tale of a Japanese man who avenged the death of his sister by going down on her best friend for seven days and seven nights. ~ Mark Jackman

I'm all for sex. Seven nights a week. Days, too. ~ Steve Allen

Wife number three: Lynette. She looked like a horse and kind of walked like one, too. Not surprisingly, neigh was her favorite word and seven nights a week.
~Detective Mike Malone ~ D.B. Woodling

Yeah, I was a local hero. It was great for me, 'cos I had a full house every night all night seven nights a week for five years that I played. The next five years I just played five days a week, but I still had a full house every night. ~ John Hunter

OrI just want out. Out of my existence. I find myself wishing that a lot lately. Not be dead. Or kill myself. Or any of that kind of stupid shit. It's more that I can't help thinking that if I'd never been born in the first place, I wouldn't be facing those sixty-seven nights, I wouldn't be right here, right now, having just endured that conversation with her. ~ Gayle Forman

He looked younger, kinder, a brighter image of the man she knew. A man life hadn't mistreated or betrayed. Whatever the pain of this union, she loved that she gave him this momentary peace. This encounter lurched from the physical onto a different plane. A plane revealing a new emotional landscape. She felt lightheaded, lost. ~ Anna Campbell

She loved his laughter. She loved that he faced the world with a reckless smile on his scarred face. Her heart crashed against her chest. A revelation descended. A revelation unrelated to the desire heating her blood. ~ Anna Campbell

The tension drained from her face and she softened in his hold until she was again the fluid, responsive woman who had kissed him within an inch of his life. This time he knew better than to restrain her when she slipped from the bed. He bit back an appeal for her to stay with him. If his life depended on it, he couldn't say whether he wanted her to stay an hour, a day, or forever. ~ Anna Campbell

Seven men to beat up one who was tied and defenceless. Seven men who would have no intestines by the time dawn crested. This was a playground scuffle. ~ Pepper Winters

I do not NEED a man. That was an impossible thought when I married John thirty years ago. It was unimaginable even seven years ago. I finally understand why lasting love has eluded me: the relationship I've been searching for all along was with myself. ~ Shary Hauer

I gave to get going, anyway," said Sailor. "Just stopped by for a quick kiss, and to ask what time I should arrive for dinner."
"Seven?"
He gave me another long look, smiled slowly, and whispered, "Wild horses, and all that."
He picked up his helmet, gave me another quick kiss, and left.
My gaze lingered on his broad back. I turned to see Bronwyn watching me, a fond, knowing smile on her face. A blush stained my cheeks. ~ Juliet Blackwell

I found Toronto an immensely likeable city, spacious and gentle and slightly dignified, but in a low-key, friendly way. The only people who didn't seem to think much of it were its inhabitants, who could hardly wait for you to ask directions, because that gave them the perfect opportunity to apologise for it. What they were apologising for I never understood. I think they felt uninteresting, compared with America. I took the opposite view; I remember reading about the doctrine of American "Exceptionalism" and thinking that what I liked so much about Canadians was that they consider themselves unexceptional. This modest, unthreatening attitude seems to produce a nation that is stable, safe, decent and well respected. It's just a shame that for seven months of the year it's so cold that only Canadians would put up with it. ~ John Cleese

Nothing like poetry when you lie awake at night. It keeps the old brain limber. It washes away the mud and sand that keeps on blocking up the bends.
Like waves to make the pebbles dance on my old floors. And turn them into rubies and jacinths; or at any rate, good imitations. ~ Joyce Cary

Remember！That's war！You're all in one boat！He who thinks only about himeself will destroy himeself, too！
Such selfishness will not be tolerated！"
「いいか！戦とはそういうものだ！人を守ってこそ自分も守れる！己のことばかり考えるやつは己をも滅ぼすやつだ！」 ~ Akira Kurosawa The Seven Samurai

In wakeful nights, as one may fancy, the wild soul of the man, tossing amid these vortices, would hail any light of a decision for them as a veritable light from Heaven; any making-up of his mind, so blessed, indispensable for him there, ~ Thomas Carlyle

Those seven years in the cloister were the key to my life. ~ Abbe Pierre

I can't even hear the phrase 'Four score and seven years ago' without thinking of what?" my mom asked.

"A top hat and a beard," I replied. ~ Jarod Kintz

[T]he hyphenation question is, and always has been and will be, different for English immigrants. One can be an Italian-American, a Greek-American, an Irish-American and so forth. (Jews for some reason prefer the words the other way around, as in 'American Jewish Congress' or 'American Jewish Committee.') And any of those groups can and does have a 'national day' parade on Fifth Avenue in New York. But there is no such thing as an 'English-American' let alone a 'British-American,' and one can only boggle at the idea of what, if we did exist, our national day parade on Fifth Avenue might look like. One can, though, be an Englishman in America. There is a culture, even a literature, possibly a language, and certainly a diplomatic and military relationship, that can accurately be termed 'Anglo-American.' But something in the very landscape and mapping of America, with seven eastern seaboard states named for English monarchs or aristocrats and countless hamlets and cities replicated from counties and shires across the Atlantic, that makes hyphenation redundant. Hyphenation - if one may be blunt - is for latecomers. ~ Christopher Hitchens

And that is why all of us with one voice call one God differently as Paramatma, Ishwara, Shiva, Vishnu, Rama, Allah, Khuda, Dada Hormuzda, Jehova, God, and an infinite variety of names. He is one and yet many; He is smaller than an atom, and bigger than the Himalayas. He is contained even in a drop of the ocean, and yet not even the seven seas can compass Him. Reason is powerless to know Him. He is beyond the reach or grasp of reason. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

My wife Mary and I have been married for forty-seven years and not once have we had an argument serious enough to consider divorce; murder, yes, but divorce, never. ~ Jack Benny

I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for early light dappled through leaves and the heavy perfume of wild roses in early July and the song of crickets on humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives. Why ~ Ann Voskamp

Jake the trapeze artist was a man who stared death in the face, while most nights I stared television in the face. ~ David Nicholls

Mrs. Baker's social manner was almost robotlike in its perfection. All her comments and remarks were natural, normal, everyday currency, but one had a suspicion that the whole thing was like an actor playing a part for perhaps the seven hundredth time. It was an automatic performance, completely divorced from what Mrs. Baker might really have been thinking or feeling. ~ Agatha Christie

After Birth is a fast-talking, opinionated, moody, funny, and slightly desperate account of the attempt to recover from having a baby. It is a romp through dangerous waters, in which passages of hilarity are shadowed by the dark nights of earliest motherhood, those months so tremulous with both new love and the despairing loss of one's identity-to read it is an absorbing, entertaining, and thought-provoking experience. ~ Lydia Davis

It's something fails us. First we feel. Then we fall. And let her rain now if she likes. Gently or strongly as she likes. Anyway let her rain for my time is come. I done me best when I was let. Thinking always if I go all goes. A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles and is there one who understands me? One in a thousand of years of the nights? ~ James Joyce

We are entrusted, you must know, with the revision of the English Dictionary. On the evidence of the Liverpool find of Christmas cards, in which occurred such couplets as:

Just to hope the day keeps fine
For you and your this Christmas time,

and:

I hope this stocking's in your line
When stars shine bright at Christmas-time

I hold that "Christmas-time" was often pronounced "Christmas-tine", and that this is a dialect variant of the older "Christmas-tide". Quant denies this, with a warmth that is unusual in him.'
'Quant is right. ~ Robert Graves

Eyuran," I addressed his Node. "What was in this one?"

He came closer and studied the huge case, which was easily twice the height of an adult Danna and had body slots for some kind of gear.

"I don't know for sure. I haven't seen this before. It resembles a gearbot sarx, but those are usually larger. Must be a new, compact model." Observing the empty sarx, a wave of bad feelings came over me.

"I also saw some of the weapon crates with broken locks."

"If someone is operating a gearbot, a bunch of guns will be the least of our worries. A hull repairer can't even begin to compete with the power of an assault exomachine." He looked around and frowned. "By the way, the whole hull repairer rack is empty. Counting the one you took out, we should have seven more roaming somewhere on the ship. ~ Jeno Marz

Sleepless nights
Spent looking at the ceiling
Searching in those etched patterns
For some sort of adhesive
To glue together the broken pieces
Of a soul crushed
By the weight of the fact that
Life is profoundly sad. ~ Justin Wetch

When a small night-lamp alone illuminated our love-making, it became a very small, circular room which silently passed through nights humming with stars. ~ Fernand Dumont

But it is already light. How long has it been light? All this while, light has come percolating in, along with the cold morning air flowing now across his nipples: it has begun to reveal an assortment of drunken wastrels, some in uniform and some not, clutching empty or near-empty bottles, here draped over a chair, there huddled into a cold fireplace, or sprawled on various divans, un-Hoovered rugs and chaise longues down the different levels of the enormous room, snoring and wheezing at many rhythms, in self-renewing chorus, as London light, winter and elastic light, grows between the faces of the mullioned windows, grows among the strata of last night's smoke still hung, fading, from the waxed beams of the ceiling. All these horizontal here, these comrades in arms, look just as rosy as a bunch of Dutch peasants dreaming of their certain resurrection in the next few minutes. ~ Thomas Pynchon

He was thirteen then, Elijah almost seven. Now, ten years later, Elijah realizes he's older than Danny was. That all of those changes have happened to him, too. The changes that nobody has any say over. The biology - "growing" and "up" as a physical matter. The changes after - Elijah has to believe they're a matter of choice. Looking at Danny used to be like looking at the future. Now looking at Danny is like looking at a future he doesn't want. ~ David Levithan

I have to tell you, my seven-year-old granddaughter said to my daughter, her mother, 'So what's the big deal about Grandma Maddy having been Secretary of State? Only girls are Secretaries of State.' Most of her lifetime, it's true. But at the time it really was a big deal. ~ Madeleine Albright

YOUTH, n. The Period of Possibility, when Archimedes finds a fulcrum, Cassandra has a following and seven cities compete for the honor of endowing a living Homer. ~ Ambrose Bierce

I shall never forget my admiration for that German pilot, who single handed, fought seven of us for ten minutes. I saw him go into a fairly steep dive and so I continued to watch, and then saw the triplane hit the ground and disappear into a thousand fragments, for it seemed to me that it literally went into powder. ~ James McCudden

Take care of her? She isn't Snow White, and we aren't the seven dwarves. She ~ T.S. Joyce

In an article offering a law enforcement perspective on allegations of ritual abuse, Lanning (1992, A law-enforcement perspective on allegations of ritual abuse) fails to give a precise definition of the term. Although he is quoted as having conducted a seven-year study FBI study that gives evidence that ritual abuse does not exist, when Noblitt and Perskin (2000, Cult and ritual abuse) requested a copy of his study from the FBI, "the bureau responded in writing that no such study existed." (p. 179). ~ David A. Sakheim, Susan E. Devine

Seth stood about six feet eight inches tall with broad shoulders, a leanly muscled form, beautiful patrician features, and long wavy black hair (drawn back with a leather tie) that reached his waist. David stood about six feet seven inches with equally broad shoulders, a bit more muscle, the face of a pharaoh, flawless skin as dark as midnight, and pencil-thin dreadlocks that fell to his hips. ~ Dianne Duvall

Sprang on your nerves with all the abruptness of a normal night's dream turning to nightmare. Dog into wolf, light into twilight, emptiness into waiting presence, here were your underage Marine barfing in the street, barmaid with a ship's propeller tattooed on each buttock, one potential berserk studying the best technique for jumping through a plate glass window (when to scream Geronimo? before or after the glass breaks?), a drunken deck ape crying back in the alley because last time the SP's caught him like this they put him in a strait jacket. ~ Anonymous

Shake out carols!
Solitary here, the night's carols!
Carols of lonesome love! death's carols!
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon!
O under that moon where she droops almost down into the sea!
O reckless despairing carols. ~ Walt Whitman

I believe I encountered death, which was a bit too much for a seven-year-old. ~ Peter Straub

By the end of the seventies, some nights I was so out of it our road manager, Joe Baptista, would have to carry me onstage. The promoter would be sitting there in the dressing room with a look of horror on his face. I'm almost comatose, he's hyper-ventilating. He thinks he's presenting the legendary cash cow Aerosmith, and now he's going to lose his shirt because the lead singer's down for the count. Is he dead or alive? What am I going to do? "You'd better get him on that stage. I don't know how he's going to do this how, but we've got too many kids out there."

Not to worry. The minute my feet hit the stage, I'm off and running. I don't know how it happens, but hey, you get up there in front of twenty thousand people and it's a high in itself, it's a charged space.

Still, the train kept a rollin' and we kept getting high until one night in late '78, I don't know where we were, maybe in Springfield, Illinois, I blacked out in the middle of "Reefer Headed Woman."

I got a reefer headed woman
She fell right down from the sky
Well, I gots to drink me two fifths of whiskey
Just to get half as high
When the -

And then I hit the stage like a fish out of water. ~ Steven Tyler

I wanted that November feeling, you know, when you suddenly remember the holidays are coming and your tummy gets all excited and it's like being seven again. ~ Abbi Waxman

I don't think I'll ever fully get over losing the city council seat. I don't know how that happened. But it was less than 1 percent out of 50,000 votes. I'd put in six or seven years into changing L.A. ~ Tom Hayden

ever. It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed ~ Charles Dickens

On August 10, 1984, my plane landed in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan. There were no skyscrapers here. The blue domes of the mosques and the faded mountains were the only things rising above the adobe duvals (the houses). The mosques came alive in the evening with multivoiced wailing: the mullahs were calling the faithful to evening prayer. It was such an unusual spectacle that, in the beginning, I used to leave the barracks to listen – the same way that, in Russia, on spring nights, people go outside to listen to the nightingales sing. For me, a nineteen-year-old boy who had lived his whole life in Leningrad, everything about Kabul was exotic: enormous skies – uncommonly starry – occasionally punctured by the blazing lines of tracers. And spread out before you, the mysterious Asian capital where strange people were bustling about like ants on an anthill: bearded men, faces darkend by the sun, in solid-colored wide cotton trousers and long shirts. Their modern jackets, worn over those outfits, looked completely unnatural. And women, hidden under plain dull garments that covered them from head to toe: only their hands visible, holding bulging shopping bags, and their feet, in worn-out shoes or sneakers, sticking out from under the hems.

And somewhere between this odd city and the deep black southern sky, the wailing, beautifully incomprehensible songs of the mullahs. The sounds didn't contradict each other, but rather, in a polyphonic echo, melted away among the ~ Vladislav Tamarov

His own daughters constantly presented him with a mathematical impossibility, one minute running around the house wearing pajamas covered in images of the blankly staring Hello, Kitty, the next minute announcing they had dates who would be picking them up at seven. He believed his daughters were not old enough to date and yet clearly by the standards of this country they were old enough to be members of a terrorist organization ~ Ann Patchett

Those ever more frequent nights when his loneliness became unbearable and he took solace in wine he would sometimes stand outside his tent holding his cup toward the great mass as if it lived and was then only slumbering beneath the stars. Drunk and bemused at its enormous dimensions he would mumble words at it, reaching out as if he could touch it. "Hail, you sleeping elephant - what would happen if you farted? Roll over, mighty carbuncle on the face of the earth, and dump the Jews in the sea of salt. I will live to crown you, Masada, with a wreath of my urine. ~ Ernest K. Gann

A half-hour before bedtime, I remind myself that I now deserve to prepare myself for a good night's sleep. You can't focus on your work if you're sleep-deprived even if you have a fascinating job. ~ Marty Nemko

There are seven incarnations (and six correlates) necessary to becoming an Artist: 1. Explorer (Courage) 2. Surveyor (Vision) 3. Miner (Strength) 4. Refiner (Patience) 5. Designer (Intelligence) 6. Maker (Experience) 7. Artist. First, you must leave the safety of your home and go into the dangers of the world, whether to an actual territory or some unexamined aspect of the psyche. This is what is meant by 'Explorer.' Next, you must have the vision to recognize your destination once you arrive there. Note that a destination may sometimes also be the journey. This is what is meant by 'Surveyor.' Third, you must be strong enough to dig up the facts, follow veins of history, unearth telling details. This is what is meant by 'Miner.' Fourth, you must have the patience to winnow and process your material into something rare. This may take months or even years. And this is what is meant by 'Refiner.' Fifth, you must use your intellect to conceive of your material as something meaning more than its origins. This is what is meant by 'Designer.' Six, you must fashion a work independent of everything that has gone before it including yourself. This is accomplished though experience and is what is meant by 'Maker.' At this stage, the work is acceptable. You will be fortunate to have progressed so far. It is unlikely, however, that you will go any farther. Most do not. But let us assume you are exceptional. Let us assume you are rare. What then does it mean to reach the final incarnation? ~ Mark Z. Danielewski

Sophie stopped the taxi at an imposing gate that blocked the bank's driveway - a cement-lined ramp that descended beneath the building. A video camera overhead was aimed directly at them, and Langdon had the feeling that this camera, unlike those at the Louvre, was authentic. Sophie rolled down the window and surveyed the electronic podium on the driver's side. An LCD screen provided directions in seven languages. Topping the list was English. ~ Dan Brown