Silfverberg Explodes Quotes

Dilemmas of the Angels: Flight"

Before the angel there was something else -
not this coffee shop next to a drug rehabilitation center
filled with war veterans of the past, men and women
strapped to their chairs, birds straining to rise
from piles of feathers, bones, and blood.

Drenched in sweat and a little shaky
from too much caffeine, she takes flight,
a shining white-winged trumpeter swan
crossing open water, steam rising
from the feathers' barbs. Below her,
a cormorant, unfolding its black wings,
explodes from the surface, and even fish,
leaping from the oily sheen, glide
for a moment, gills pumping
in the poisonous atmosphere.

Such longing. How large
the muscles in our shoulders must be
to lift our wings even a single time. ~ David Romtvedt

His name explodes inside of me like cannon fire. ~ Stephanie Perkins

We're good to move."
"Cool." Kolya's smile was every bit as tight-lipped as Riley's, but it was real. "Tell us when you need help."
"And tell us before your chest explodes," Andrej muttered, "so we can shoot the alien babies when they pop out."
Riley made a rude gesture. "McClane says, go fuck yourself."
Kolya chuckled. "Let's keep him. ~ J. Fally

ROTHKO: (Explodes) 'Pretty.' 'Beautiful.' 'Nice.' 'Fine.' That's our life now! Everything's 'fine'. We put on the funny nose and glasses and slip on the banana peel and the TV makes everything happy and everyone's laughing all the time, it's all so goddamn funny, it's our constitutional right to be amused all the time, isn't it? We're a smirking nation, living under the tyranny of 'fine.' How are you? Fine.. How was your day? Fine. How are you feeling? Fine. How did you like the painting? Fine. What some dinner? Fine ... Well, let me tell you, everything is not fine!!
HOW ARE YOU?! ... HOW WAS YOUR DAY?! ... HOW ARE YOU FEELING? Conflicted. Nuanced. Troubled. Diseased. Doomed. I am not fine. We are not fine. We are anything but fine. ~ John Logan

Not only the iron on Earth, but also the iron in the entire Solar
System, comes from outer space, since the temperature in the Sun is
inadequate for the formation of iron. The Sun has a surface temperature
of 6,000 degrees Celsius (11,000oF), and a core temperature of approximately
20 million degrees (36 million degrees Fahrenheit). Iron can
only be produced in much larger stars than the Sun, where the temperature
reaches a few hundred million degrees. When the amount of iron
exceeds a certain level in a star, the star can no longer accommodate it,
and it eventually explodes in what is called a "nova" or a "supernova."
These explosions make it possible for iron to be given off into space.40
One scientific source provides the following information on this
subject:
There is also evidence for older supernova events: Enhanced levels of
iron-60 in deep-sea sediments have been interpreted as indications that a
supernova explosion occurred within 90 light-years of the sun about 5
million years ago. Iron-60 is a radioactive isotope of iron, formed in
Allah's Miracles in the Qur'an
85
supernova explosions, which decays with a half life of 1.5 million years.
An enhanced presence of this isotope in a geologic layer indicates the
recent nucleosynthesis of elements nearby in space and their subsequent
transport to the earth (perhaps as part of dust grains).41
All this shows that i ~ Harun Yahya

Anxiety isn't an attack that explodes out of me; it's not a volcano that lies dormant until it's triggered by an earth-shattering event. It's a constant companion. Like a blow fly that gets into the house in the middle of summer, flying around and around. You can hear it buzzing, but you can't see it, can't capture it, can't let it out. ~ Jen Wilde

I point at a window to my left, and it explodes. Particles of glass rain over us. 'You'll have to do better than that,' I say. ~ Veronica Roth

The internet explodes when somebody has the creativity to look at a piece of data that's put there for one reason and realise they can connect it with something else. ~ Tim Berners-Lee

I Need a Good Book

I need a good story.
I need a good book.
The kind that explodes
Off the shelf.
I need some good writing,
Alive and exciting,
To contemplate all by myself.

I need a good novel,
I need a good read.
I probably need
Two or three.
I need a good tale
Of love and betrayal
Or perhaps an adventure at sea.

I need a good saga.
I need a good yarn.
A momentous and mightily
Or slight one.
But with thousands and thousands
And thousands of books,
I need someone to tell me
The right one.

-John Lithgow ~ John Lithgow

3The voice of the Eternal echoes over the great waters; God's magnificence roars like thunder. The Eternal's presence hovers over all the waters. 4His voice explodes in great power over the earth. His voice is both regal and grand. ~ Anonymous

Ack! I'm blind. Old man dick alert. Cover it up. She protested with her mouth, yet her eyes remained locked on his bare body. He swelled up to an even mightier size. Good grief. Just how big does that thing get? Should I duck and cover before it explodes? ~ Eve Langlais

I envy Johnny and at the same time I get sore as hell watching him destroy himself, misusing his gifts, and the stupid accumulation of nonsense the pressure of his life requires. I think that if Johnny could straighten out his life, not even sacrificing heroin, if he could pilot that plane better, maybe he'd end up worse, maybe go crazy altogether, or die, but not without having played it to the depth, what he's looking for in those sad a posteriori monlogues, in his retelling of great, fascinating experiences which, however, stop right there, in the middle of the road. And all this I back up with my own cowardice, and maybe basically I want Johnny to wind up all at once like a nova that explodes into a thousand pieces and turns astronomers into idiots for a whole week, and then one can go off to sleep and tomorrow is another day. ~ Julio Cortazar

When I have an idea, I turn down the flame, as if it were a little alcohol stove, as low as it will go. Then it explodes and that is my idea. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

Her face screws up in disgust and she steps forward. "You're a fool, Miller Hart. He'll never let you walk away."
He explodes.
"I love her!" he roars, knocking every person back in the room. "I fucking love her!" Tears burst from my eyes and I fall into his side. He immediately grabs me and pulls me close. "I love her. I love everything she stands for and I love how much she loves me. It's more than you love me. It's more than any of you claim to love me! It's pure and light. It's made me feel. It's made me want more. If any fucker tries to take her away from me, I'll fucking kill them." Pulling up for a second, he gathers a long breath. "Slowly," he adds, shaking beside me, clinging to me tightly, like he's afraid someone will try right now. "I don't care what he says. I don't care what he thinks he can do to me. It'll be him sleeping with one eye open, Sophia, not me. So tell him. Fucking run to him and confirm what he already knows. I don't want to fuck for living anymore. Tell him I don't want to line his pockets anymore. You're not holding me to ransom. Miller Hart is out of the game. The Special One has quit!" He withdraws and takes a few moments to suck in another calming gulp of air, while everyone looks at him, shocked. Including me. "I love her. Go to him. Tell him I love her. Tell him I'm Olivia's now. And tell him if he even thinks about touching a hair on her precious head, it'll be the last thing he ever does. ~ Jodi Ellen Malpas

They're not tourists, either, they're nothing like the gawkers and brayers in a place like Times Square, but they don't live here, they live in Jersey or Westchester, they're burghers right out of seventeenth-century Amsterdam, they cross Broadway as if they fucking own it, they think they look rakish, they think they're creatures of the night, they have neighbors whom they consider burghers because they don't like driving in New York, because they'd rather stay home (right now, the woman in the fringed pashmina shawl, the one walking arm-in-arm with Cowboy Boots, explodes in laughter, a great smacking hoot of a laugh, a three-martinis laugh, audible for a block or so), while the residents of downtown Manhattan, the ones who survive the days here, walk more modestly, certainly more quietly, more like penitents, because it's almost impossible to maintain a sense of hubris when you live here, you're too constantly confronted by the rampant otherness of others; hubris is surely much more attainable when you've got a house and a lawn and an Audi, when you understand that at the end of the world you'll get a second's more existence because the bomb won't be aimed at you, the shock wave will take you out but you're not anybody's main target, you've removed yourself from the kill zone, no one gets shot where you live, no one gets stabbed by a random psychopath, the biggest threat to your personal, ongoing security is the possibility that the neighbor's son will break in and steal a ~ Michael Cunningham

In your body, there exists a subtle current of electricity, very subtle. But the subtler it is, the deeper it goes. It is not very visible. Scientists say that all the electricity that is in your body, if put together, can be used to light a five-candle bulb. It is not much. Quantitatively it is not much, quantitatively the atom is not much, but qualitatively ... If it explodes, it has tremendous energy in it. ~ Rajneesh

You either mellow at 30, or your head explodes - take your choice. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Do you know what gardenias smell like?"
"Yes."
"That's what it's like to be glad. You wake searching for the smell of gardenias. Or the smell of oranges. Or the smell of agaves. Or the smell of rosemary. And you think, God, I can smell. And you walk out and you see the light falling on everything - on the delicate leaves of a mesquite or the brilliant white of an oleander in bloom that almost blinds you or the bougainvillea that explodes pink like a firecracker. And you think, God, I can see. ~ Benjamin Alire Saenz

According to Shauna Rae, you just never know when the people next door are cooking meth until the trailer explodes. ~ Lexi Blake

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable. I leave you alone for two hours and you fall off a cliff, get attacked by a crow and a snake explodes all over you." "Pretty ~ Karina Halle

You have to love someone to yell at them so intensely; you have to care so unbelievably much that your anger explodes and burns across the sky like the Soviet's Sputnik. ~ Jillian Cantor

What happens to rage deferred? It explodes. It explodes in spectacular fashion. ~ J.A. Konrath

What are you doing?"
"Activating it."
"Uh ... No you're not." I jerk my hand away. "You're not activating anything until I get some answers."
"Yeah, I am. If I don't activate it, it explodes." He sounds dead serious.
"For real?"
He doesn't answer, and that pisses me off. But I can't be certain it isn't for real, and since I'm fond of having a hand at the end of my arm, I offer my wrist. He finishes running his fingers over the screen.
I change direction and ask, "Would the bracelet really have exploded if you didn't activate it?"
There's a slight pause that makes me think I've surprised him by shifting topics. Good. Better that I have him on his toes than he have me on mine.
"No," he says, and I think the corners of his mouth twitch in the hint if a smile. ~ Eve Silver

There's a word for it," she told me, "in French, for when you have a lingering impression of something having passed by. Sillage. I always think of it when a firework explodes and lights up the smoke from the ones before it."
"That's a terrible word," I teased. "It's like an excuse for holding onto the past."
"Well, I think it's beautiful. A word for remembering small moments destined to be lost. ~ Robyn Schneider

Sometimes emotion is gentle, like rain feeding the river to nourish life, but sometimes it explodes like a rainstorm whose floodwaters wipe out bridges and homes. ~ Deborah Sandella

Just as when we step into a mosque and its high open dome leads our minds up , up , to greater things , so a great carpet seeks to do the same under the feet .Such a carpet directs us to the magnificence of the infinite , veiled , yet never near , closer than the pulse of jugular , the sunburst that explodes at the center of a carpet signals this boundless radiance . Flowers and trees evoke the pleasures of paradise, and there is always a spot at the center of the carpet that brings calm to the heart. A single white lotus flower floats in a turquoise pool , and in this tiniest of details, there it is : a call to the best within , summoning us to the joy of union .in carpets , I now saw not just intricacies of nature and color , not just mastery of space , but a sign of the infinite design . In each pattern lay the work of a weaver of the world, complete and whole ; and in each knot of daily existence lay mine . ~ Anita Amirrezvani

A girl of 19 doesn't react towards things. She explodes. ~ Christopher Morley

War is not a computer-generated missile striking a digital map. War is the color of earth as it explodes in our faces, the sound of child pleading, the smell of smoke and fear. Women survivors of war are not the single image portrayed on the television screen, but the glue that holds families and countries together. Perhaps by understanding women, and the other side of war ... we will have more humility in our discussions of wars ... perhaps it is time to listen to womens side of history. ~ Zainab Salbi

Picture a summer stolen whole from some coming-of-age film set in the small-town 1950s. This is none of Ireland's subtle seasons mixed for a connoisseur's palate, watercolor nuances within a pinch-sized range of cloud and soft rain; this is summer full-throated and extravagant in a hot pure silkscreen blue. This summer explodes on your tongue tasting of chewed blades of long grass, your own clean sweat, Marie biscuits with butter squirting through the holes and shaken bottles of red lemonade picnicked in tree houses. It tingles on your skin with BMX wind in your face, ladybug feet up your arm; it packs every breath full of mown grass and billowing wash lines; it chimes and fountains with birdcalls, bees, leaves and football-bounces and skipping-chants, One! two! three! This summer will never end. It starts every day with a shower of Mr. Whippy notes and your best friend's knock at the door, finishes it with long slow twilight and mothers silhouetted in doorways calling you to come in, through the bats shrilling among the black lace trees. This is Everysummer decked in all its best glory. ~ Tana French

One day I'll get a tattoo for you."
Warmth explodes in my chest, in awe that he would mark himself for me. "You don't have to."
"I will." His fingers trace my cheek and chills of pleasure run down my spine. "It's what I do. Each tattoo
represents the only happy memories I've had. And you, Rachel, you're the happiest. ~ Katie McGarry

These wires run a current through it. When we press the one and the nine at the same time, the current runs through the diamond and it emits a pulse that we can't hear or feel, but it..."
"Explodes ghosts."
"I prefer to think that it disperses the vestigial energy that an individual leaves behind after death."
"Or that," I said. ~ Maureen Johnson