The Thing From Another World Quotes

It's only second period, and the whole school knows Emma broke up with him. So far, he's collected eight phone numbers, one kiss on the cheek, and one pinch to the back of his jeans. His attempts to talk to Emma between classes are thwarted by a hurricane of teenage females whose main goal seems to be keeping him and his ex-girlfriend separated.
When the third period bell rings, Emma has already chosen a seat where she'll be barricaded from him by other students. Throughout class, she pays attention as if the teacher were giving instructions on how to survive a life-threatening catastrophe in the next twenty-four hours. About midway through class, he receives a text from a number he doesn't recognize.
If you let me, I can do things to u to make u forget her.
As soon as he clears it, another one pops up from a different number.
Hit me back if u want to chat. I'll treat u better than E.
How did they get my number? Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he hovers over his notebook protectively, as if it's the only thing left that hasn't been invaded. Then he notices the foreign handwriting scribbled on it by a girl named Shena who encircled her name and phone number with a heart. Not throwing it across the room takes almost as much effort as not kissing Emma.
At lunch, Emma once again blocks his access to her by sitting between people at a full picnic table outside. He chooses the table directly across from her, but she seems oblivious, absently so ~ Anna Banks

The fact about contemporaries is that they're doing the same thing on another railway line: one resents their distracting one, flashing past, the wrong way- something like that: from timidity, partly, one keeps one's eyes on one's own road. ~ Virginia Woolf

To Sonnet, wearing castoff clothing was just another way to make her different from the other kids at school. As if she needed one more thing to make her different. ~ Susan Wiggs

The one thing that is truly monstrous is the idea of another person being unreachable. I think this is what lies behind our fear of people we imagine to be evil: the belief that they are wholly beyond our reach, beyond our appeal and our compassion, because they have alienated themselves completely from the rest of humanity and thereby rendered themselves inhuman ... But there is mutuality involved. For us to accept another person's alienation is simultaneously to alienate ourselves from him - to become complicit. When we decide to accept that another person is unreachable, we may cut him off, send him away, but we have set ourselves adrift as well. ~ Leah Hager Cohen

Show me what?" My voice was thick with the threat of tears. "That I've loved you from the beginning." He pointed to the drawing I held so protectively against me. "There's not been one single moment that I've known you where I haven't loved you. And somewhere along the way, that love became something bigger, something so undeniable that the force of it scared me more than anything else ever has." He took a measured step towards me. "Somewhere along the way I fell in love with you. I think I fell in love with you a long time ago and I was too fucking stupid to admit it, because the thought of loving you and losing you was too painful to contemplate. I would rather have you as a friend than not at all." Another step. "But I realized something when you walked away from me in the hospital. No matter what, I was still going to lose you, because being your friend isn't enough anymore, Sadie. I know now that falling in love with you isn't wrong. It's the best thing I've ever done. And I'm so, so sorry that it took me so long to see that. ~ Micalea Smeltzer

Tell me what happened."
"He was here," I said, hoarse. "He lit the can on fire and took the extinguisher nearby. I ran to the back to get the other and he pushed one of the shelves over on me."
The muscles in Holt's jaw clenched and flexed beneath the stubble that lined his face.
"Do you ever shave?" I wondered out loud.
He smiled and rubbed at the gruffness. "I just trim it."
I nodded.
"Do you like it?" he asked.
Once again, I touched him, brazenly running my hand along his jaw. It was soft and rough at the same time - the perfect balance. "Yeah, I do."
"Good to know," he said, taking my hand, linking our fingers together, and then his face grew serious again.
"Obviously, I avoided the shelf."
"Did you get a look at his face?" I cringed at the hopefulness in his voice.
"No," I admitted. "I tried, but he kicked me."
His eyes went murderous. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.
"He. Kicked. You," he ground out, making each word into a pointed sentence.
This time I kept my mouth shut.
"Where?" he demanded.
I wasn't going to reply, but his eyes narrowed and I knew he would eventually make me tell him. I was going to have to tell the cops anyway. Weariness floated over me at the thought of enduring yet another one of their hours-long interrogations.
I lifted my wrist, the bandage just dangling from the area now, not covering or protecting a thing.
The waves of hatred that roll ~ Cambria Hebert

Soon after the completion of his college course, his whole nature was kindled into one intense and passionate effervescence of romantic passion. His hour came, - the hour that comes only once; his star rose in the horizon, - that star that rises so often in vain, to be remembered only as a thing of dreams; and it rose for him in vain. To drop the figure, - he saw and won the love of a high-minded and beautiful woman, in one of the northern states, and they were affianced. He returned south to make arrangements for their marriage, when, most unexpectedly, his letters were returned to him by mail, with a short note from her guardian, stating to him that ere this reached him the lady would be the wife of another. Stung to madness, he vainly hoped, as many another has done, to fling the whole thing from his heart by one desperate effort. Too proud to supplicate or seek explanation, he threw himself at once into a whirl of fashionable society, and in a fortnight from the time of the fatal letter was the accepted lover of the reigning belle of the season; and as soon as arrangements could be made, he became the husband of a fine figure, a pair of bright dark eyes, and a hundred thousand dollars; and, of course, everybody thought him a happy fellow.

The married couple were enjoying their honeymoon, and entertaining a brilliant circle of friends in their splendid villa, near Lake Pontchartrain, when, one day, a letter was brought to him in that well-remembered writing. It ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe

But eating with genuine good appetite is no easy thing when you are seated at the opposite end of a long table from a man who makes it a point of moral significance to subsist on half a grapefruit, eaten in under a minute so that the bowl could be pushed emphatically away, another duty done. ~ Richard Russo

The usual method of finding a little dongly thing that actually matches a gizmo I want to use is to go and buy another one, at a price that can physically drive the air from your body. ~ Douglas Adams

There is no such thing as originality. It has all been said before, suffered before. If a person knows that, is it any wonder love becomes mechanical and death just a scene to be shunned? There is no absolute knowledge to be gained from either. Just another ride on the merry-go-round, another blurred scene of faces smiling and faces grieved. ~ Clive Barker

I lowered onto the sweetest mouth I'd ever tasted and I never wanted to taste another for, God, thank you, she was the only thing that kept me from falling over the edge to the end of me. ~ Shelly Crane

A lot of things seem one way but are another. And how a thing seems is often just the game we play to save ourselves from great, panicking pain. ~ Richard Ford

If she pushes you, I thought, at last you will know. All of the reading and thinking you have done has pointed you toward a mystery of unspeakable size, and here it is, Snicket. Here's the dark thing you imagine very late, on very terrible nights. It has been beckoning you since you were a baby, when you emerged from the darkness of the womb. You didn't know it then, but from that moment on you would float toward another darkness, all the mysterious days and all the mysterious nights of your whole mysterious life. Here it is, Snicket. Listen for this mystery that has been stalking you since they first inked your ankle. ~ Lemony Snicket

Yet I am incapable of writing the only kind of novel which interests me: a book powered with an intellectual or moral passion strong enough to create order, to create a new way of looking at life. It is because I am too diffused. I have decided never to write another novel. I have fifty 'subjects' I could write about; and they would be competent enough. If there is one thing we can be sure of, it is that competent and informative novels will continue to pour from the publishing houses. I have only one, and the least important, of the qualities necessary to write at all, and that is curiosity. It is the curiosity of the journalist. ~ Doris Lessing

What separates the professionally successful ... from all the rest is their ability to stay steady, to have stamina. It is one thing to write a good sentence, another to write a good book. ~ Katy Lederer

Hetty was awakened from a doze in a chair by the sound of a door opening. She was about to make herself known to whoever had entered the library when someone else entered, too, and she heard Minerva say, "Well? What do you think? Am I right about Oliver and Miss Butterfield?"
Shrinking into the chair, she prayed she wouldn't be noticed in the corner.
"It certainly looks that way." It was Jarret's voice. "He does seem to have genuine feelings for her. I've never witnessed him act like that over a woman. You should have seen him-ready to strike me when I suggested going after her myself."
"What a brilliant touch!" Minerva cried. "I told you he liked her. And I'll hazard a guess that she likes him, too. I went up to her room after they got back, and she blushed furiously when I asked if Oliver had behaved himself."
"That's the problem. Liking her is one thing, but whether he'll act on the attraction honorably is another matter entirely. Oliver isn't used to being around a woman he's not allowed to…er…"
"Take to bed."
Hetty blinked.
"My God, Minerva, don't say things like that! You're not supposed to know about such matters."
"Pish posh. I could hardly grow up with a rogue for a father and three rogue brothers without hearing a few things."
Hetty had to chomp on the inside of her cheek to stifle her laugh.
"Well, at least pretend you don't know, will you?" Jarret grumbled. "One day you'll say something like that in public and give ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Beckett finally allowed himself to turn to her, to see what they saw. He had to smile. She was sheer sex and sin. The boots were old favorites with high, steel heels. And as predicted, her pants were orgasmically tight. She had a corset on, goddamn it, and her tits were so distracting it was obscene. Across her chest hung rounds of ammo like she'd just won the beauty pageant of death, and a leather jacket topped the whole fucking thing off. Well, that and the impressive automatic weapon slung over her shoulder. She pulled her favorite knife from where it was strapped to her thigh next to another. She twirled her hair into a bun and slid the knife into it, meeting his gaze when it was set. Eve was magnificent. Every damn time. ~ Debra Anastasia

Another five minutes, thought Olivia, and shut her eyes. Not to fall asleep again; but to go back as it were and do the thing gradually---detach oneself softly, float up serenely from the clinging delectable fringes. Oh, heavenly sleep! Why must one cast it from one, all unprepared, unwilling? Caught out again by Kate in the very act! You're not trying , you could wake up if you wanted to: that was their attitude. And regularly one began the day convicted of inferiority, of a sluggish voluptuous nature, seriously lacking in will-power. ~ Rosamond Lehmann

This book does not try to "document" any particular aspect of Indian life. To me, doing such a thing would seem a pretentious and pseudo-scientific undertaking, especially for someone from the West. The photographs also make no intentional social or political statement. I never say, when discussing my work, that I am "concerned" with anything (another favorite word tossed about, all too much, by young and socially conscious post-modernists). ~ Waswo X. Waswo

I believe in women uplifting other women. The only thing that makes our gender weaker, is the fact that we are the gender less likely to stand up for the other. We are the gender more likely to try and make another look bad, and when one of us is already bad, instead of being kind, we pound them into the ditches. And that's what makes us weak, nothing else. If we can change this, we can change the whole structure of our being female, I truly believe this. Personally, I grew up admiring other women and wanting to be friends with them, but unfortunately, I learned the hard way that they were the ones who would hurt me. Women hurt other women all too often, and that's a fact. I'd like to see not just us not hurting one another; but us actually making a conscious effort to be happy for another when she is happy, to hope the best for another when she has better, and to lift another up when she is down. We know that so many of us are harsh, cold and selfish, and we try to protect ourselves from one another, that's the reality. But it's also a reality that what is real can change. So that means we can change it. ~ C. JoyBell C.

He took her near hand in his and raised it to his lips as he had once before. This time, he kissed it lightly, looking at her as he did, his expression unusually solemn. "Aye, sure, we'll go in," he said. "Just as soon as you look me in the eyes and tell me you're doing this willingly and not just because you said you would."
She looked him right in the eye then and said, "You first."

Ian laughed as much at the look of determination on Lina's face as at the challenge she had flung at him.
When she continued to watch him, he sobered. He was still holding her hand, so he gave it a warm squeeze and said, "I'm more willing with every minute that passes, lass. I believe that we will suit each other well."
"This may be the most reckless thing you have done, sir."
"It may be, aye. But you are doing it with me, so I'll wager that you won't carp and correct me at every turn as some wives try to do."
"I would not do that in any event," she said, peering into his face in that way she had that made him feel as if she would see right through him to his core. "I wonder if my opinions matter to you, though. I'm unlikely to change my feelings about many things that you do. Nor will I agree with you in all that you say."
"Then, likely we'll fratch from time to time," he said. "Would it help if I were to promise that I'll always listen?"
"It might," she said doubtfully. "It would help more if you did always listen."
He choked on another bubble ~ Amanda Scott

It would hardly be kindness if he didn't punish sin, not to use every means to put the evil thing far from us. Whatever may be meant by the place of misery Mr. Sutherland, it's only another form of his love. Love shining through the fogs of evil, and thus made to look very different. ~ George MacDonald

But as I stood across from Archer, I couldn't forget that I was completely, stupidly in love with the one person I could never have.
The laughter died on my lips, and I dashed at my eyes with the back of my hand. "I need to get back," I said.
"Right," he replied. He was still holding his sword in his right hand, and he twirled the hilt, the point sratching the wooden floor. "So this is it. We're done."
"Yeah," I said, my voice cracking. I cleared my throat. "And I have to say, the world's first and last Eye-demon reconnaissance mission went pretty well." It was a struggle to meet his eyes, but I managed it. "Thank you."
He shrugged, his dark gaze full of something I couldn't quite read. "We were a good team."
"We were." In more ways than one, I thought. Which is why this sucked so bad.
I stepped back. "Anyway, I should go. See ya,Cross." Then I laughed, only it sounded suspiciously like another sob. "Except I won't, will I So I guess I should say goodbye." I felt like I was about to shatter into a million tiny shards, like the mirrors I'd broken with Dad. "okay, well, best of luck with the whole Eye thing, then. Try not to kill anyone I know." I turned away, but he reached out and caught my wrist.
I could feel my pulse hammering under his fingers. "Mercer, that day in the cellar..." He searched my face, and I could sense him struggling for what he wanted to say. Then finally, "I didn't kiss you back because I had to. I kissed you because I w ~ Rachel Hawkins

Being busy helping customers meant that I had no time to train the way I was used to, with an intense four-or five-hour workout each day. So I adopted the idea of training twice a day, two hours before work and two hours from seven to nine in the evening, when business slacked off and only the serious lifters were left. Split workouts seemed like an annoyance at first, but I realized I was onto something when I saw the results: I was concentrating better and recovering faster while grinding out longer and harder sets. On many days I would add a third training session at lunchtime. I'd isolate a body part that I thought was weak and give it thirty or forty minutes of my full attention, blasting twenty sets of calf raises, say, or one hundred triceps extensions. I did the same thing some nights after dinner, coming back to train for an hour at eleven o'clock. As I went to sleep in my snug little room, I'd often feel one or another muscle that I'd traumatized that day jumping and twitching-just a side effect of a successful workout and every pleasing, because I knew those fibers would now recover and grow. ~ Arnold Schwarzenegger

There was this one day, though, that I saw another side of Amanda. When someone pisses her off, she can get bitchy as hell." Clara patted her knee. "Everyone gets moody from time to time. What you need to keep in mind is that it is probably not about you, and there is no reason for you to get upset. The best thing you can do is to get out of the line of fire. You don't want to get hit just because you are there and make an easy target. ~ I.T. Lucas

Where do ideas come from? From looking at one thing, and seeing another. From fooling around, from playing with possibilities, from speculating, from changing, pushing, pulling, transforming, and if you're lucky, you come up with something worth saving, using, and building on. That's where the game stops and the work begins."
~ Short Film: Why Man Creates ~ Saul Bass

And another thing - when you talk to that pompous ass on the phone, do not go all syrupy." He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at her from his superior height.
"Syrupy?" she echoed indignantly, outraged at the accusation. "I never sound syrupy." Her large eyes flashed a warning at him, daring him to pursue his point.
He dared to. "Oh yes, you do." He clasped his hands together and made a face, his voice rising an octave as he simpered. "Oh, Marie, the flowers are so beautiful. Thomas Ivan gave them to me." He rolled his eyes as he mimicked her. ~ Christine Feehan

I think one of the successes of Gladiator is how we manage to turn on a dime the character from one thing to another where you believe he is one thing and he is something very different. ~ Ridley Scott

One gains courage from the one in front of her and moves forward a few steps, passing her by just a little. Now the one farthest back gains courage from the one in front and moves forward until she, in turn, is the leader. And so in this way, taking courage from one another, they advance, as a group, towards the strange thing in front of them. ~ Lydia Davis

Gary tried not to notice how pale Savannah was as she fixed him a pot of coffee.Her satin skin was almost translucent.He was groggy from the trance-induced sleep and had a hard time waking up, even after a long shower. He had no idea where the change of clothes had come from,but they were lying on the end of the bed when he awakened.
Savannah was beautiful, moving through the house like flowing water, like music in the air.She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a pale turquoise shirt that clung to her curves and emphasized her narrow rib cage and small waist.Her long hair was pulled back in a thick braid that hung below her bottom.Gary tried to keep his eyes to himself.He hadn't seen any evidence of Gregori this evening,but he didn't want to take any chances.He had a feeling the one thing that could change that remote expression fast was to have another man ogling Savannah. ~ Christine Feehan