Your Trash Quotes

Everything that touches YOUR life, must be an instrument of YOUR liberation or tossed into the trash cans of HISTORY ~ John Henrik Clarke

You don't know what it means to be betrayed!
Should I explain it to you? It means to be treated like trash and your feelings get stepped on ...
you get hurt over and over again and in the end you are left alone!
Can't you see how much I care for you? How hard I'm trying to connect with you?
When did I ever betray you?
When did I ever leave you alone? ~ Yuuki Obata

What are you talking about? What was in those letters?" "First, let me ask you, did you get them?" Judging by the panicked look in his eyes, he had. "Did you even open them?" He didn't have to answer for her to guess. A bitter laugh erupted. "Nope. You didn't bother, did you? Just chucked them in the trash, just like you did me and your son." Nope, he didn't know, and she wondered if he'd remember seeing as how he hit the ground pretty hard. She didn't stick around to find out. ~ Eve Langlais

Vladimir Nabokov and George Orwell had quite different gifts, and their self-images were quite different. But, I shall argue, their accomplishment was pretty much the same. Both of them warn the liberal ironist intellectual against temptations to be cruel. Both of them dramatise the tension between private irony and liberal hope.

In the following passage, Nabokov helped blur the distinctions which I want to draw:

...'Lolita' has no moral in tow. For me a work of fiction exists only in so far as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm. There are not many such books. All the rest is either topical trash or what some call the Literature of Ideas, which very often is topical trash coming in huge blocks of plaster that are carefully transmitted from age to age until somebody comes along with a hammer and takes a good crack at Balzac, at Gorki, at Mann.

Orwell blurred the same distinctions when, in one of his rare descents into rant, "The Frontiers of Art and Propaganda," he wrote exactly the sort of thing Nabokov loathed:

You cannot take a purely aesthetic interest in a disease you are dying from; you cannot feel dispassionately about a man who is about to cut your throat. In a world in which Fascism and Socialism were fighting one another, any thinking person had to take side ~ Richard M. Rorty

Teaching you to fight at all is an exercise in futility," Ty responded in a matter-of-fact tone. "Luckily for you, I enjoy things like banging my head against a wall."
"I enjoy banging your head against a wall too," Zane replied as tossed the balled-up tape at a nearby trash can. He let a small smile quirk his lips as he sat on the bench to unlace his shoes.
"Shut up," Ty grunted at him. But even though his back was still turned to him, Zane could hear a smile in his voice. "And cut it out with the damn cat jokes, huh? They're starting to catch on."
"Fine, fine. No reason to get catty about it," Zane told his partner with a barely concealed grin. ~ Abigail Roux

[Annabeth]I might have a plan. It'll be your turn to keep Serapis distracted.'

Sadie frowned. 'Did I mention I'm out of magic?'

'That's okay,' Annabeth said. 'How are you at bluffing, lying and trash-talking?'

Sadie raised an eyebrow. 'I've been told those are my most attractive qualities.'

'Excellent,' Annabeth said. 'Then it's time I taught you some Greek. ~ Rick Riordan

You don't have control" she spat. "Iris doesn't have control. No one does. Control is an illusion. Terrible things happen with no reason at all. Terrible, ugly, fucked-up things like rape and death and loss, and there is no power, no control. There's just the big, mean universe scraping your insides out and tossing them in the trash and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it ~ Kristen Mae

The thing to remember is that children are temporary. As soon as they develop a sense of humor and get to be good company, maybe even remember to take the trash out and close the refrigerator door, they pack up their electronic equipment and their clothes, and some of your clothes, and leave in a U-Haul, to return only at Thanksgiving. ~ Barbara Holland

Venom's pupils contracted the instant before he slid his sunglasses back on.
She couldn't help it. "Why isn't your tongue forked?"
"Why can't you fly?" A smirk. "Those things on your back aren't accessories you know. ~ Nalini Singh

TV was entertainment of the last resort. There was nothing on during the day in the summer other than game shows and soap operas. Besides, a TV-watching child was considered available for chores: take out the trash, clean your room, pick up that mess, fold those towels, mow the lawn ... the list was endless. We all became adept at chore-avoidance. Staying out of sight was a reliable strategy. Drawing or painting was another: to my mother, making art trumped making beds. A third choir-avoidance technique was to read. A kid with his or her nose in a book is a kid who is not fighting, yelling, throwing, breaking things, bleeding, whining, or otherwise creating a Mom-size headache. Reading a book was almost like being invisible - a good thing for all concerned. ~ Pete Hautman

Why will you take by force what you may have quietly by love? Why will you destroy us who supply you with food? What can you get by war? We can hide our provisions and run into the woods; then you will starve for wronging your friends. Why are you jealous of us? We are unarmed, and willing to give you what you ask, if you come in a friendly manner, and not so simple as not to know that it is much better to eat good meat, sleep comfortably, live quietly with my wives and children, laugh and be merry with the English, and trade for their copper and hatchets, than to run away from them, and to lie cold in the woods, feed on acorns, roots and such trash, and be so hunted that I can neither eat nor sleep. In these wars, my men must sit up watching, and if a twig break, they all cry out "Here comes Captain Smith!" So I must end my miserable life. Take away your guns and swords, the cause of all our jealousy, or you may all die in the same manner. ~ Howard Zinn

Everything has a spirit and it's all connected. If you think about that, if you live your life by it, then you're less likely to cause any hurt. It's like how our bodies go back into the ground when we die, so that connects us to the earth. If you dump trash, you're dumping it on your and my ancestors. Or to bring it down to its simplest level: treat everything and everybody the way you want to be treated, because when you hurt someone, you're only hurting yourself. ~ Charles De Lint

Thank you for your attempt at trying to be thoughtful while stealing shit from me." He picked up a crossword booklet from a chair and tossed it into the trash. "And for filling out my fucking crossword puzzles without me having to ask. I'm not sure how I've ever survived this long without you. ~ Whitney G.

Use a pegboard and some s-hooks to hang utensils along a wall. Most ovens get really dirty over time due to continuous use. Make a solution with a few tablespoons of vinegar, baking soda and dish washing soap. Spread this with a sponge along your oven surfaces and keep it for a while. Then use a clean wet sponge to wipe the dirt away. Garbage bins often acquire a stagnant smell after using them a few times. This is because despite using garbage bags, there could be leakage. Next time you clean out your dustbin, put in the garbage bag and then place some newspaper balls at the bottom. Put in your trash over this newspaper since it will absorb any such leaks. Organize everything in a systematic way so that you know where to grab them from next time. ~ Matthew Jones

In this sense, littering is an exceedingly petty version of claiming a billion-dollar bank bailout or fraudulently claiming disability payments. When you throw trash on the ground, you apparently don't see yourself as truly belonging to the world that you're walking around in. And when you fraudulently claim money from the government, you are ultimately stealing from your friends, family, and neighbors - or somebody else's friends, family, and neighbors. That diminishes you morally far more than it diminishes your country financially. ~ Sebastian Junger

After awhile you realize that putting your actions where your mouth is makes you less likely to have to put your money where your mouth is. ~ Criss Jami

recant, v.

I want to take back at least half of the "I love you"s, because I didn't mean them as much as the other ones. I want to take back the book of artsy photos I gave you, because you didn't get it and said it was hipster trash. I want to take back what I said about you being an emotional zombie. I want to take back the time I called you "honey" in front of your sister and you looked like I had just shown her pictures of us having sex. I want to take back the wineglass I broke when I was mad, because it was a nice wineglass and the argument would have ended anyway. I want to take back the time we had sex in a rent-a-car, not because I feel bad about the people who got in the car after us, but because it was massively uncomfortable. I want to take back the trust I had while you were away in Austin. I want to take back the time I said you were a genius, because I was being sarcastic and I should have just said you'd hurt my feelings. I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it. I want to take back at least half the "I love you"s, because it feels safer that way. ~ David Levithan

Dying is easy, getting the dental floss off your finger and into the trash is hard. ~ Gregor Collins

Truly the worst generation. Stupid children nowadays are nothing like my time. We were far more independent. We weren't so weak that we needed to lean on others to make it in this world. Either you were the best or you were trash. That was the bottom line. You can't even fight a rebellion with your own strength. ~ Charles Lee

You ever see that show Storage Wars?" Cooper asked and I shook my head. "These guys bid on abandoned storage lockers. Lots of times, these lockers are full of trash. Sometimes though, they have hidden treasures. That's what you are. The hidden treasure in the trash of your crap family. You have value and I don't want you to think otherwise."
"That's how you see me?" I said, smiling up at him. "As treasure?"
"Of course. You're irreplaceable. ~ Bijou Hunter

Go ahead, throw this book away. Spit on me. Revile me. I dare you. Cast me out of your intellectual orbit. Throw me out of your backpack. Pitch me in the airport trash bin. Leave me on a bench in Central Park!
What do I care?
No. I don't want you to do all that. Don't do that.
DON'T DO IT! ~ Anne Rice

The real slums are another matter. The bad parts of Tondo are as bad as any place I've seen, ancient, filthy houses swarmed with the poor and stinking of sewage and trash. But there are worse parts - squatter areas where people live under cardboard, in shipping crates, behind tacked-up newspapers. Dad would march you straight to the basement with a hairbrush in his hand if he caught you keeping your hamster cage like this. ~ P. J. O'Rourke

It doesn't matter how deep you bury an incriminating letter in the trash, it's still there. It doesn't matter how far you push a body back into a tunnel, either. That's still there, too. Even if it has been destroyed, it's still there. You know this already. You'll have bodies stashed in tunnels of your own. Things you've done, mistakes you've made, secrets you hold - the guilt you carry for moments that stick out in your past like black stars in the firmament of your inner life. The outlier occurrences. The anomalies. The events you look back upon in disbelief, wondering how the hell they could have come to pass, and if they can be made to fit in a story you are prepared to own. But the truth is you get where you're going not through the long forgettable years of sticking to the path, but through the moments when you wander off it. It's the things that don't make sense that reveal who you are inside. The anomalies make you who you are. That realization will not make you feel any better about them. Time may help you turn a blind eye, but guilt is the stain that never goes away. ~ Michael Rutger

There's a reason why most men don't read romance: Romance novels are wish-fulfillment for women. The fictitious men in romance novels fall all over themselves trying to please a woman. Does that sound like your real life experience with men? No of course not. (Except for guys who want to fuck you. There is no man more attentive
as the guy who wants to fuck you for the first time.)

That's why you read romance. To get something you don't get in real life. Because your husband's idea of romance is bringing out the trash and not farting during sex. ~ Oliver Markus Malloy

The virtuosos look to the students of the world to do their share in the education of the great musical public. Do not waste your time with music that is trite or ignoble. Life is too short to spend it wandering in the barren Saharas of musical trash. ~ Sergei Rachmaninoff

We straighten , bu our snickering is barely contained as we attempt to focus our attention on a picture of a discarded Coke can. "This guy's lady love is kind of a slob, don't you think?" he whispers.
I cover my mouth with my hands again.
"A reaaaaaaaal litterbug."
"Stop it," I hiss. My eyes are watering. "Ohmygod look at this one! How did he get her toenail clippings?"
"If you were my girl," he whispers, "I'd take creepy pictures of your trash when I knew you weren't looking."
"If you were my girl," I whisper back," I"d put the creepy pictures in a foreign museum so you wouldn't know that I take creepy pictures. ~ Stephanie Perkins

Long hours spent checking off a to-do list and ending the day with a full trash can and a clean desk are not virtuous and have nothing to do with success. Instead of a to-do list, you need a success list - a list that is purposefully created around extraordinary results.
To-do lists tend to be long; success lists are short. One pulls you in all directions; the other aims you in a specific direction. One is a disorganized directory and the other is an organized directive. If a list isn't built around success, then that's not where it takes you. If your to-do list contains everything, then it's probably taking you everywhere but where you really want to go. ~ Gary Keller

And now of a sudden my illusion vanished. What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and the boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone.

Your son is in a burning house. Nobody can hold you back. You may burn up, but what do you think of that? You are ready to bequeath the rags of your body to any man who will take them. You discover that what you set so much store by is trash. You would sell your hand, if need be, to give a hand to a friend. It is in your act that you exist, not in your body. Your act is yourself, and there is no other you. Your body belongs to you: it is not you. Are you about to strike an enemy? No threat of bodily harm can hold you back. You? It is the death of your enemy that is you. You? It is the rescue of your child that is you. In that moment you exchange yourself against something else; and you have no feeling tat you lost by the exchange. Your members? Tools. A tool snaps in your hand: how important is that tool? You exchange yourself against the death of your enemy, the rescue of your child, the recovery of your patient, the perfection of your theorem...Your true significance becomes dazzlingly evident. Your true name is duty, hatred, love, child, theorem. There is no other you than this. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Let me give you a tip: if you're ever the victim of a terrible crime - like, say, your kid goes missing - and you see the cops consulting with a couple of white trash–looking dipshits in their late twenties, it's time to worry. It's not because John and I are incompetent at what we do - and I assure you, we are - but because you need to start asking yourself a very hard question. Not "Will I get my child back?" but "Do I want to get my child back? ~ David Wong

Then the flight attendants, garbage bags in hand, glided down the aisle, looking each one of us square in the face and whispering, without discrimination, Your trash. You're trash. Your family's trash. ~ David Sedaris

When people (talk trash) about you, you have to keep it moving, keep the records hot and keep your head up. ~ Ashanti

If you treat your mind like a trash can, don't be surprised when you reach for a thought and all you get is garbage. ~ Zero Dean

Outside I hopped into our vehicle, the taint of vampiric magic clinging to me like greasy smoke.
"I feel soiled."
"Like walking into a room after a day of work, falling into bed, and realizing the sheets are covered in cold K-Y jelly," Raphael said.
I just stared at him.
"With a funky smell," he added.
My Order conditioning failed me. "Ew."
Raphael grinned.
"I‟m not even going to ask if that‟s happened to you."
I started the vehicle. "Has that happened to you?"
"Yes."
Ew. "Where?"
"In the bouda house. I was really tired and you‟ve seen that place: everything smells like sex . . ."
"I don‟t want to know." I peeled out of the parking lot.
"So where are we going?"
"To Spider Lynn‟s house. We‟re going to dig through her trash, and if that doesn‟t work, we‟ll do some breaking and entering."
Raphael frowned. "Do you know where she lives?"
"Yes. I memorized the addresses of all the Masters of the Dead in the city. I have a lot of time on my hands."
He squinted at me, looking remarkably like a gentleman pirate from my favorite romance
novels. "What else do you store in your head?"
"This and that. I remember the first thing you ever said to me. You know, when you carried me from the cart into the tub so your mother could fix me."
"I imagine it was something very romantic," he said. "Something along the lines of „I‟ve got you‟ or „I won‟t let you die.‟
"I was ble ~ Ilona Andrews

You're not better than anyone," she said, "when you hang up your own coat and take your plate to the trash. I've been those girls helping out tonight. I fucking am those girls helping out tonight, and you're not making anything easier by giving them less to do. It's like eating everything on your plate 'cause you think someone else won't go hungry if you don't. You're not helping anyone but yourself. ~ Kiley Reid

Any country that enjoys fighting and bitching as a recreation as much as America does will always be, in some way or another, walking along a knife's edge. We're a nation that spends its afternoons watching white trash throw chairs at each other on Jerry Springer, its drive time listening to the partisan rantings of this or that hysterical political demagogue, and its late-night hours composing feverish blog entries full of anonymous screeds and denunciations. All of this shit is harmless enough so long as the power comes on every morning, fresh milk makes it to the shelves, there's a dial tone, and your front yard isn't underwater. But it becomes a problem when the magic grid goes down and suddenly there's no more machinery between you and whomever you happen to get off on hating. ~ Matt Taibbi

In spite of the cold I took a seat at one of the sidewalk tables. It felt like a slab of ice under my butt. I shivered,but stuck it out.
"Hey, Loco Girl!"
Shout out "Hey, Gorgeous!" or "Einstein," and I don't budge. But this one had me at "Loco." Go figure. I looked across the sidewalk to see Daniel's face, so much like Frankie's, framed in the window of his Jeep. I felt a sad little tug in my chest.
"You are aware it's only forty degrees out there,aren't you?" he asked. I shrugged. "Meeting someone?"
"No," I admitted.
"Then get in.Your hands look like wax. It's seriously creepy."
I looked down at the hand gripping the blindingly cheerful cup.He was right.
He also got out to open the passenger's-side door for me. I was a little charmed, until he pointed at my partially eaten cheesesteak in its wilted paper wrapper. "You are not bringing that thing into my car. It's an abomination."
I eyed the cigarette he'd dropped in the gutter. He did his teeth-baring thing. I tossed my cold meal in the trash, knowing I wouldn't have eaten it anyway. The inside of the Jeep wasn't all that much warmer than out. "Here." Daniel took off his black leather jacket and held it out for me. It was heavy and smelled a little bit like a burned cookie. It went on over my own coat; the sleeves went past my fingertips. "You look like frozen-"
"Don't say it," I muttered as I settled into the battered seat.
"You have no idea what I was going to say," he sho ~ Melissa Jensen

AS SHE HEALED, the women changed tactics and stopped their berating. Now they brought their embroidery and crocheting, and finally they used Ethel Fordham's house as their quilting center. Ignoring those who preferred new, soft blankets, they practiced what they had been taught by their mothers during the period that rich people called the Depression and they called life. Surrounded by their comings and goings, listening to their talk, their songs, following their instructions, Cee had nothing to do but pay them the attention she had never given them before. They were nothing like Lenore, who'd driven Salem hard, and now, suffering a minor stroke, did nothing at all. Although each of her nurses was markedly different from the others in looks, dress, manner of speech, food and medical preferences, their similarities were glaring. There was no excess in their gardens because they shared everything. There was no trash or garbage in their homes because they had a use for everything. They took responsibility for their lives and for whatever, whoever else needed them. The absence of common sense irritated but did not surprise them. Laziness was more than intolerable to them; it was inhuman. Whether you were in the field, the house, your own backyard, you had to be busy. Sleep was not for dreaming; it was for gathering strength for the coming day. Conversation was accompanied by tasks: ironing, peeling, shucking, sorting, sewing, mending, washing, or nursing. You couldn't learn age, ~ Toni Morrison

I am your Ted's song-legend, Crow of the death-chill, please. The God-eating, trash-licking, word-murdering, carcass-desecrating math-bomb motherfucker, and all that. ~ Max Porter

Avoid head trash. Don't be a garbage can for anything that does not feed your intellect, stimulate your imagination, or make you a more compassionate peaceful person. Refuse to open your mind to other people's trash. Tune out anything that promotes conflict or controversy. This can infect you with a mind virus of cynicism or defeat, and you won't even know it! ~ Les Brown

I don't think you should go around talking trash about people because I think that's how you get your hat handed to you. ~ LL Cool J

Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.
Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.
Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.
Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,
Eat a whole fish except for the tail.
Keep food in the fridge so it don't get stale,
And when there's nothing to eat ... I bite my nails. ~ Big Daddy Kane

All men are dogs, Nichelle, and if you don't feed your dog, you can't be surprised when he's in the neighbor's trash looking for food. ~ Norian F. Love

The beauty of the concept is that it takes the wind out of so many would-be ethical sails: the company that owns the porn-mag owns the company that makes the washing powder. The company that owns the munitions plants owns the company that makes the budgerigar food. The company that owns the nuclear waste owns the company that picks up your trash. These days, thanks to me, unless you pack up and go and live in a cave, you're putting money into evil and shit. And let's be realistic, if the cost of ethics is life in a cave ... ~ Glen Duncan

In the first couple of weeks there were big piles of trash outside every house. All the stuff you couldn't find another use for and couldn't compost. Yogurt cups, torn trash bags, dirty diapers, hair-spray cans, paper towels. Sometimes you'd see a pile that was as high as your waist. Nathan said it was a purge, a cleanse. But you could just as well say that who we were went out with the empties. We will never get our selves back. ~ Jess Row

Design is not limited to fancy new gadgets. Our family just bought a new washing machine and dryer. We didn't have a very good one so we spent a little time looking at them. It turns out that the Americans make washers and dryers all wrong. The Europeans make them much better – but they take twice as long to do clothes! It turns out that they wash them with about a quarter as much water and your clothes end up with a lot less detergent on them. Most important, they don't trash your clothes. They use a lot less soap, a lot less water, but they come out much cleaner, much softer, and they last a lot longer. We spent some time in our family talking about what's the trade-off we want to make. We ended up talking a lot about design, but also about the values of our family. Did we care most about getting our wash done in an hour versus an hour and a half? Or did we care most about our clothes feeling really soft and lasting longer? Did we care about using a quarter of the water? We spent about two weeks talking about this every night at the dinner table. We'd get around to that old washer-dryer discussion. And the talk was about design. We ended up opting for these Miele appliances, made in Germany. They're too expensive, but that's just because nobody buys them in this country. They are really wonderfully made and one of the few products we've bought over the last few years that we're all really happy about. These guys really thought the process through. They did such a great job ~ Steve Jobs

The truth is, we do not have addiction problems. We have misdirected worship. I'm convinced every human being is in recovery and being weaned from some form of addiction because of idolatry. Your addiction or mine may not have us eating out of trash cans, but our sin habit is hurting and diminishing God's glory in our lives. ~ Derwin L. Gray

Right, so, quick, I mentioned Hawk. He's a scary-ass, motherfucking commando. When I say that, I do not lie. So I'll repeat, he's a scary-ass, motherfucking commando. So, when your mind conjures up a vision of a commando, that's Hawk. And Hawk likes kids. But he don't like kids bein' scared and bein' used for bullshit family dramas. I tell him this, which, by the way, I'm totally tellin' him this, even though he don't know those kids, like, at all, he's gonna go psycho badass, motherfucking commando. And the Trailer Trash Twins won't know what hit 'em. ~ Kristen Ashley

Who gets to celebrate this cosmic view of life? Not the migrant farmworker. Not the sweatshop worker. Certainly not the homeless person rummaging through the trash for food. You need the luxury of time not spent on mere survival. You need to
live in a nation whose government values the search to understand humanity's place in the universe. You need a society in which intellectual pursuit can take you to the frontiers of discovery, and in which news of your discoveries can be routinely disseminated. ~ Neil DeGrasse Tyson

We don't have to do this," I said.
His jaw set in a way that reminded me of how he'd look some times back in grade school, standing around the fringes of s kickball game or on that bench by Mr. Lloyd's room. "We do, though."
I shook my head, staring at the house. Right then, a woman walked out, carrying a bag of trash. "Let's ask her if we can go in," Cameron said.
"Go in?"
He turned to me. "Yeah."
I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Shouldn't we, like, talk about it first? About what happened?"
"Why? We know what happened."
"I can't."
"But I'm with you. We're together."
My eyes filled. He looked out the window. The woman went back in the house and closed the door. "We can come back some other time," I said, "after we've talked." I put the car in drive. "Let's go somewhere. Coffee. Something."
"Doesn't matte." His jaw was set again, his voice dead flat.
"It does matter, Cameron. That's the point. If it didn't matter I could just go in right now. I'm not ready. You can't just show up after all these years and expect me to be ready." He opened the door and started to get out. "Wait, where are you going?"
"Sorry I came here and messed up your life."
"That's not what I said!" But he was out of the car, walking down the block, away from me. ~ Sara Zarr

Oh, it's just a trash can. Chill out." (Marco) BAM! BAM! BAM! "Okay, so it's four trash cans," (Marco) " BAM! BAM! BAM! "Do you hate trash cans? Is that your problem? Do you just HATE TRASH CANS?!!" (Jake) ~ Katherine Applegate

Yes, you are right! I am your leftover trash. I hope you know a bum got to eat too. I believe you were one when I met you. ~ Touaxia Vang

Mad Rogan was walking next to me with that same confident stride that had made me notice him back in the arboretum, and I knew precisely where he was and how much distance separated us. My whole body was focused on him. I wanted him to touch me. I didn't want him touching me. I was waiting for him to touch me. I didn't know what the hell I wanted.
"Did you like the carnations?"
I reached into my pocket and handed him a small red card. "Texas Children's Hospital is grateful to you for your generous donation. Thanks to you, every one of their rooms has beautiful flowers this morning. They think it might be at least partially tax deductible, and if your people talk to their people, the hospital will provide the necessary paperwork."
Mad Rogan took the card, brushing my hand with his warm, dry fingers. The card shot out of his hand and landed in the nearby trash bin. ~ Ilona Andrews

LEADING LESSONS
Free yourself to have bad ideas.

Whenever I try to think of a brilliant new dance routine, it usually falls flat on its face. It's crushed by the weight of my own expectations for brilliance. It's much more fruitful to follow the advice of the songwriter who said, "When you write new songs, write for the trash can." When I start choreographing a new dance, I don't care how bad the idea is, and I allow myself to run with it. Challenge yourself to think of five awful, terrible, of-my-God-this-stinks ideas. They get the juices flowing. And when you have those five, at the very least you have creative momentum and, more often than not, some of those ideas have legs. Think about the one thing that's original to you and no one else. What's your unique voice? Find that voice and shout with it. ~ Derek Hough

You are the lifemate of a senstive, modern male. Julian's lazy amusement warmed her further, confirming what she already suspected, that he often stayed a shadow in her mind.
How fortunate for me. Desari smiled at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair cascaded in waves down her back. There was a sparkle in her eyes. She knew Julian had made her feel more alive than she had ever been. Sensitive, modern men are so to my liking.
Men? I am certain I did not hear my lifemate use the word men.The plural.No man is allowed to be to your liking other than myself. He sounded stern, the fierce Carpathian male at his most menacing.
Desari laughed aloud. I suppose I can see your point, Julian, but really, it is so difficult to keep from noticing all of those handsome hunks in the audience.
Handsome hunks? His voice dropped low with the affront. They are more like lovesick fops. If they could feel the vibrations in the air, they would show sense and run for their lives. It is bad enough to read their fantasies and hear them talk their trash, cara,but it is altogether worse to hear that my woman is looking back. One smile at the wrong man, lifemate, and trouble will find the man quickly.
You sound jealous,she accused him, amusement curving her soft mouth.
The first rule for all women to know and never forget is that Carpathian makes do not share their lifemates. Your brother has much to answer for that this was not drilled into you since birth.It was his job ~ Christine Feehan

If you cut yourself, if you hate yourself, if you eat, if you don't eat. If your parents split up, if your parents hit you, if your mom tells you you're a piece of trash. If you got in a car crash and half your face is gone - wake up in the morning and give yourself a shot. Do it. Not for music, not for any reason other than the fact that you are alive and you were given the grace to wake up another day. So do it, man. Just freaking get out there and try. ~ Aaron Gillespie

A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment it is broken. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick up your pieces. Then, help me gather mine. ~ Vera Nazarian

What was that you were saying about my mother?"
"She likes big dicks." Deacon slammed him hard in the gut, knocking him to the floor. "So does your wife. ~ Mercy Celeste

Are you attempting to distract me from my task with your wanton thoughts?" There was a curling caress in Gabriel's voice, brushing at the walls of her mind, flooding her body with heat and excitement.
"Wanton thoughts? You need a checkup, my boy. Your fantasy world seems to be growing larger with each passing day. I wanted you home to take out the trash. ~ Christine Feehan

Jem," he said, "are you responsible for this?"
"Yes sir."
"Why'd you do it?"
Jem said softly, "She said you lawed for niggers and trash."
"You did this because she said that?"
Jem's lips moved, but his, "Yes sir," was inaudible.
"Son, I have no doubt that you've been annoyed by your contemporaries about me
lawing for niggers, as you say, but to do something like this to a sick old lady is
inexcusable. I strongly advise you to go down and have a talk with Mrs. Dubose," said
Atticus. "Come straight home afterward."
Jem did not move.
"Go on, I said."
I followed Jem out of the livingroom. "Come back here," Atticus said to me. I came
back.
Atticus picked up the Mobile Press and sat down in the rocking chair Jem had
vacated. For the life of me, I did not understand how he could sit there in cold blood and
read a newspaper when his only son stood an excellent chance of being murdered with
a Confederate Army relic. Of course Jem antagonized me sometimes until I could kill
him, but when it came down to it he was all I had. Atticus did not seem to realize this, or
if he did he didn't care.
I hated him for that, but when you are in trouble you become easily tired: soon I was
hiding in his lap and his arms were around me.
"You're mighty big to be rocked," he said.
"You don't care what happens to him," I said. "You just send him on to get s ~ Harper Lee

Sulien held up the broken spear, one piece in each hand. "A warhammer did this?"
"You saw that hammer the Lightning almost hit Addolgar with. And that's not even the one he uses during battles. That one is bloody huge. Nearly as
big as the bastard's head."
Her father chuckled and stepped around her. "The only purpose of this spear was to protect you - and it did. Its job is now done." He started to
throw the pieces into a bin he kept for trash.
"Don't you dare throw that out."
"Why not? It's broken, and repairing it would be useless. It'l only break again."
"But you made it for me."
"You cling to what is meaningless, child. Just like your mother sometimes, only with her it's mostly grudges. ~ G.A. Aiken

It's hard when you put a year of good work into something and someone at the top says no, and they pull your show's title off a bulletin board and chuck it in the trash. ~ Tyler Labine

One of my books is a hallucinogen, an aphrodisiac, a mood elevator, an intellectual garage door opener, and a metaphysical trash compactor. They'll do everything except rotate your tires. ~ Tom Robbins

You're one to talk about talking crap, Forester." Dunstan's voice interrupts the memory, and I can't help but feel a little grateful. "Accusing my dad of poisoning the swamp? What a bunch of bull."
"It's not bull,"I snarl. "Your dad's dumping trash into the swamp and you know it!"
Dunstan finally loses it and stands up. The boat tilts dangerously. Melanie and the twins shriek, grasping the sides like they're glued to them.
"You two sit down this minute!" Babette bellows. She's holding onto the motor for dear life. Neither of us listens.
"You wanna run that by me again?" Dunstan growls. His fingers curl into fists.
"Your. Dad. Is. Poisoning. The. Swamp." I let each word out slowly like Dunstan's a dumb little kid who needs help understanding. ~ Colleen Boyd

Thank you, Simon, I appreciate that." Luke opened the pizza box and, finding it empty, shut it with a sigh. "Though you did eat all the pizza."
"I only had five slices," Simon protested, leaning his chair backward so it balanced precariously on its two back legs.
"How many slices did you think were in a pizza, dork?" Clary wanted to know.
"Less than five slices isn't a meal. It's a snack." Simon looked apprehensively at Luke. "Does this mean you're going to wolf out and eat me?"
"Certainly not." Luke rose to toss the pizza box into the trash. "You would be stringy and hard to digest."
"But kosher," Simon pointed out cheerfully.
"I'll be sure to point any Jewish lycanthropes your way." Luke leaned his back against the sink. ~ Cassandra Clare

Hail, Columbia! Home of the six inch cockroach and the stadium-sized lecture hall. A reservation for rich white people guarded by poor brown people in a sea of urban decay. Where nobody on the faculty has ever spent ten minutes in the freshman dorm, but everybody talks about humanism and compassion. They teach you that military people are scum, trash, the lowest of the low
and then they assign Homer's ILIAD just to develop your sense of irony. Where else can you see three suicides a month dismissed as slightly above average, but better than Smith or Brown? ~ Ted Rall

My kids, they're like nine or ten years old right now so you give 'em responsibilities just to keep them up on things. It ain't just all about getting on the skateboard or putting your Heelys on, and swimming in the pool all the time. You gotta do stuff like wash dishes, take the trash out, feed the dog. ~ Big Boi

I open the box, and there are notes. Notes and notes and notes. Peter's notes. Peter's notes I threw away.
"I found them when I was emptying your trash," she says. Hastily she adds, "I only read a couple. And then I saved them because I could tell they were important."
I touch one that Peter folded into an airplane. "Kitty…you know Peter and I aren't getting back together, right?"
Kitty grabs the bowl of popcorn and says, "Just read them." Then she goes into the living room and turns on the TV.
I close the hatbox and take it with me upstairs. When I am in my room, I sit on the floor and spread them out around me.
A lot of the notes just say things like "Meet you at your locker after school" and Can I borrow your chemistry notes from yesterday?" I find the spiderweb one from Halloween, and it makes me smile. Another one says, "Can you take the bus home today? I want to surprise Kitty and pick her up from school so she can show me and my car off to her friends." "Thanks for coming to the estate sale with me this weekend. You made the day fun. I owe you one." "Don't forget to pack a Korean yogurt for me!" "If you make Josh's dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it's over." I laugh out loud. And then, the one I read over and over: "You look pretty today. I like you in blue."
I've never gotten a love letter before. But reading these notes like this, one after the other, it feels like I have. It's like…it's like there's onl ~ Jenny Han

On our second date, I picked up Missy at her house and told her we had to make a pit stop to pick up crawfish bait at the fish market. We'd figured out a way to speed up the process by using the fish market's gutbuckets instead of running nets ourselves. Through trial and error, we determined that the best crawfish bait was buffalo-fish heads. Unfortunately, when I pulled up to the market to get the garbage cans full of fish heads, I realized they had been outside for a couple of days. It was a warm day, and I could tell from the buzzing of hundreds of flies it was going to be nasty! I knew it was going to be the ultimate test of our relationship. The tubs were too heavy for one man to carry, so I told Missy, "I'm going to need your help on this." She crawled out the window, and I led her to the trash cans filled with buffalo heads waiting for us. Like an idiot, the first thing she did was open the lid of a trash can. Immediately, she started gagging and dry-heaving in the parking lot.
"Rule number two," I said. "Never pop the lid on a trash can."
Much to my surprise, Missy regained her composure and helped me load the trash cans into the back of my truck. Right then, I realized our relationship might work out. She was climbing through windows and hauling fish heads. ~ Jase Robertson

Your greatest accomplishments, no matter how impressive you think them to be, are some else's worst nightmare. Your most prized possession is another man's disgusting chunk of trash. Be careful what you brag about. ~ Jessica Hagy

Stop gawking and close your mouth before I decide to use it as a trash receptacle. ~ Heidi Schulz

Your head's like a room and when you's forced to stay in it, you gotta deal with all the trash that's left in there. ~ Stacey Lee

There is no need for hyperbole. I did NOT dump you. I peeled your mask off like a banana peel, did not like what was inside, and tossed it in the trash. ~ Donna Lynn Hope

Well, it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write
And kind of turn themselves into knives
And don't mind my nerve you can call it fiction
'Cause I like being submerged in your contradictions, dear
'Cause here we are, here we are
Although you were biased, I love your advice
Your comebacks they're quick and probably
Have to do with your insecurities
There's no shame in being crazy depending on how you take these
Words they're paraphrasing this relationship we're staging
And it's a beautiful mess, yes, it is
It's like we're picking up trash in dresses ~ Jason Mraz

Well, well, what have we here? A piece of Katagari trash that's taken up refuge with the bears? (Stone)
No, just a wolf who's going to kick your ass back to whatever hole it crawled out of. (Fang) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

For years I didn't realize this because so many others had more. We were surrounded by extreme affluence, which tricks you into thinking you're in the middle of the pack. I mean, sure, we have twenty-four hundred square feet for only five humans to live in, but our kids have never been on an airplane, so how rich could we be? We haven't traveled to Italy, my kids are in public schools, and we don't even own a time-share. (Roll eyes here.) But it gets fuzzy once you spend time with people below your rung. I started seeing my stuff with fresh eyes, realizing we had everything. I mean everything. We've never missed a meal or even skimped on one. We have a beautiful home in a great neighborhood. Our kids are in a Texas exemplary school. We drive two cars under warranty. We've never gone a day without health insurance. Our closets are overflowing. We throw away food we didn't eat, clothes we barely wore, trash that will never disintegrate, stuff that fell out of fashion. ~ Jen Hatmaker

What do you mean? In Old Castle? I still live with my parents in case you haven't noticed, Jack. Those two strangers – that man and woman sitting on my sofa – are actually my parents. Oh, you mean your place? Yes, let's evict your parents…let's place them neatly in a cardboard box and leave it by the rubbish bins! ~ Jonathan Dunne

Once I was asked by a seatmate on a trans-Pacific flight, a man who took the liberty of glancing repeatedly at the correspondence in my lap, what instruction he should give his fifteen-year-old daughter, who wanted to be a writer. I didn't know how to answer him, but before I could think I heard myself saying, 'Tell your daughter three things.'

"Tell her to read, I said. Tell her to read whatever interests her, and protect her if someone declares what she's reading to be trash. No one can fathom what happens between a human being and written language. She may be paying attention to things in the world beyond anyone else's comprehension, things that feed her curiosity, her singular heart and mind. Tell her to read classics like The Odyssey. They've been around a long time because the patterns in them have proved endlessly useful, and, to borrow Evan Connell's observation, with a good book you never touch bottom. But warn your daughter that ideas of heroism, of love, of human duty and devotion that women have been writing about for centuries will not be available to her in this form. To find these voices she will have to search. When, on her own, she begins to ask, make her a present of George Eliot, or the travel writing of Alexandra David-Neel, or To the Lighthouse.

"Second, I said, tell your daughter that she can learn a great deal about writing by reading and by studying books about grammar and the organization of ideas, but that if she wishes to write ~ Barry Lopez

There...is your spiritual obligation to literature: root out the reductive; seek excellence; pursue the numinous. And, along with a disciplined intellect (for one is of no use without the other) give to children their imaginations, of which they are being robbed with totalitarian intensity by the trash around them. ~ Alan Garner

Easy come, easy go,
That's just how you live, oh,
Take, take, take it all,
But you never give.
Should've known you was trouble
From the first kiss,
Had your eyes wide open.
Why were they open?
Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash,
You tossed it in the trash, you did.
To give me all your love is all I ever asked, 'cause
What you don't understand is
I'd catch a grenade for ya
Throw my hand on a blade for ya
I'd jump in front of a train for ya
You know I'd do anything for ya
Oh, oh, I would go through all of this pain,
Take a bullet straight through my brain!
Yes, I would die for ya, baby,
But you won't do the same. ~ Bruno Mars

Reclaim your mind and get it out of the hands of the cultural engineers who want to turn you into a half-baked moron consuming all this trash that's being manufactured out of the bones of a dying world. ~ Terence McKenna

A girlfriend went on a couple of dates with a guy who criticized the color of her nail polish. She said, "The suggestion department is closed for the evening, but fax your idea tomorrow and we'll file it right over there in the suggestion box." (Then she pointed to the kitchen trash.) ~ Sherry Argov

When you can't provide for them anymore, their true character comes out. They treat you like pure shit. To make matters worse, they talk trash behind your back, as if what you've done for them was useless. That's how some people are - they will use you up and break you down until you have nothing left to give them or yourself. People who do not have anything to lose will make sure you lose everything you've work so hard for. ~ Charlena E. Jackson

We line up and make a lot of noise about big environmental problems like incinerators, waste dumps, acid rain, global warming and pollution. But we don't understand that when we add up all the tiny environmental problems each of us creates, we end up with those big environmental dilemmas. Humans are content to blame someone else, like government or corporations, for the messes we create, and yet we each continue doing the same things, day in and day out, that have created the problems. Sure, corporations create pollution. If they do, don't buy their products. If you have to buy their products (gasoline for example), keep it to a minimum. Sure, municipal waste incinerators pollute the air. Stop throwing trash away. Minimize your production of waste. Recycle. Buy food in bulk and avoid packaging waste. Simplify. Turn off your TV. Grow your own food. Make compost. Plant a garden. Be part of the solution, not part of the problem. If you don't, who will? ~ Joseph Jenkins

Would you like all of your Facebook friends to sift through your trash? A group of designers from Britain and Germany think that you might. Meet BinCam: a 'smart' trash bin that aims to revolutionize the recycling process. ~ Evgeny Morozov

Nice gate,Ella."
I looked back at Daniel. He waved torward my lap.
"Oh." I draw on my eans when I don't have paper.My bus had gotten stuck behind a trash truck, right in front of a seriously old churchyard. "Thanks." I wasn't sure how I felt about Daniel staring at my thigh, even if he had recognized the sketch for what it was.
"Here." Suddenly, he had a booted foot on the rung of my chair, legs spread, one pressed against mine. "Draw something."
"Oh,please," Frankie muttered from his other side.
I shook my head. "I don't have a pen."
Sadie promptly disappeared beneath the table.I could hear the clank of Marc acobs chain handles and had a feeling in a second she would be asking, "Blue ink or black?"
"Don't you dare,Sadie," Frankie said cheerfully. "Ella does not want to be inscribing my brother's crotch."
True, I didn't. Except I had the clearest vision of how a little Italian portal devil would look on the faded denim...
"Fair enough," Daniel said, sliding his foot off my chair. But he actually looked disappointed. For a second, anyway. "I assume there's food coming?"
"There is," Frankie answered. "I'm sure it will come a hell of a lot faster if you do your vampire boy thing on Chloe again."
"Tsk,tsk. Jealousy, Miss Thing."
They bared their teeth at each other. It was scarily pretty. ~ Melissa Jensen

Sometimes, instead of being hurt, you should look at betrayal as a gift. It makes it that much easier to sweep it up and toss it out with the rest of the trash. And why is that you ask? Because trash starts to stink ... and when it does, it has no more value in your life. ~ Donna Schoenrock

Once I was asked be a seatmate on a trans-Pacific flight....what instruction he should give his fifteen-year-old daughters, who wanted to be a writer. [I said], "Tell your daughter three things." Tell her to read...Tell her to read whatever interests her, and protect her if someone declares what she's reading to be trash. No one can fathom what happens between a human being and written language. She may be paying attention to things in the words beyond anyone else's comprehension, things that feed her curiosity, her singular heart and mind. ...Second, I said, tell your daughter that she can learn a great deal about writing by reading and by studying books about grammar and the organization of ideas, but that if she wishes to write well she will have to become someone. She will have to discover her beliefs, and then speak to us from within those beliefs. If her prose doesn't come out of her belief, whatever that proves to be, she will only be passing along information, of which we are in no great need. So help her discover what she means.
Finally, I said, tell your daughter to get out of town, and help her do that. I don't necessarily mean to travel to Kazakhstan, or wherever, but to learn another language, to live with people other than her own, to separate herself from the familiar. Then, when she returns, she will be better able to understand why she loves the familiar, and will give us a fresh sense of how fortunate we are to share these things.
Read. Find out ~ Barry Lopez