Quotes About Rite Of Passage

Quotes tagged as "rite-of-passage" (showing 1-15 of 15)
Clark Zlotchew
“Fiction has been maligned for centuries as being "false," "untrue," yet good fiction provides more truth about the world, about life, and even about the reader, than can be found in non-fiction.”
Clark Zlotchew

Stephen Chbosky
“the juniors were acting different because they are now the seniors. They even had T-shirts made. I don't know who plans these things.”
Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Clark Zlotchew
“When they reached their ship, Ed gazed out at the bay. It was black. The sky was black, but the bay was even blacker. It was a slick, oily blackness that glowed and reflected the moonlight like a black jewel. Ed saw the tiny specks of light around the edges of the bay where he knew ships must be docked, and at different points within the bay where vessels would be anchored. The lights were pale and sickly yellow when compared with the bright blue-white sparkle of the stars overhead, but the stars glinted hard as diamonds, cold as ice. Pg. 26.”
Clark Zlotchew, Once Upon a Decade: Tales of the Fifties

Mark  Rice
“I was ten when I heard the music that ended the first phase of my life and cast me hurtling into a new horizon. Drenched to the skin, I stood on Dunoon’s pier peering seawards through diagonal rain, looking for the ferry that would take me home. There, on the everwet west coast of Scotland, I heard it: like sonic scalpels, the sounds of electric guitars sliced through the dreich weather. My body hairs pricked up, each one a willing receiver for the Thunder-God grooves. To my young ears, the sound of these amplified guitars was angelic (although, with hindsight, I don’t suppose angels play Gibson guitars at ear-bleeding volume). A voice that suggested vocal chords of polished silver soared alongside razor-sharp overdriven riffs. I knew that I was hearing the future.”
Mark Rice, Metallic Dreams

Sol Luckman
“So it was a crossroads summer, when the universe seemed to stand perilously still like an egg wobbling on a precipice, a regular rite of passage summer that saw us traverse the hazardous divide between the illusions of boyhood and the far more pernicious deceptions of maturity, et cetera.”
Sol Luckman, Beginner's Luke

“When a boy feels as if no one cares about him, or as if he will never amount to anything, he truly believes it doesn’t matter what he does.”
Clayton Lessor MA, LPC

“There’s a wound most troubled boys share, which, at its core, comes from the feeling that they don’t have their father’s unconditional love.”
Clayton Lessor MA, LPC

“Despite what you might believe right now, your son’s future is bright. You only
need the right tools to help him get there.”
Clayton Lessor MA, LPC

“It’s time to stop dreaming about who you want your son to be and help him become the healthy, happy, and successful man he’s supposed to be.”
Clayton Lessor MA, LPC

Lisa Kleypas
“Evie shook her head in confusion, staring from her husband’s wrathful countenance to Gully’s carefully blank one. “I don’t understand—”
“Call it a rite of passage,” Sebastian snapped, and left her with long strides that quickly broke into a run.
Picking up her skirts, Evie hurried after him. Rite of passage? What did he mean? And why wasn’t Cam willing to do something about the brawl? Unable to match Sebastian’s reckless pace, she trailed behind, taking care not to trip over her skirts as she descended the flight of stairs. The noise grew louder as she approached a small crowd that had congregated around the coffee room, shouts and exclamations renting the air. She saw Sebastian strip off his coat and thrust it at someone, and then he was shouldering his way into the melee. In a small clearing, three milling figures swung their fists and clumsily attempted to push and shove one another while the onlookers roared with excitement.
Sebastian strategically attacked the man who seemed the most unsteady on his feet, spinning him around, jabbing and hooking with a few deft blows until the dazed fellow tottered forward and collapsed to the carpeted floor. The remaining pair turned in tandem and rushed at Sebastian, one of them attempting to pin his arms while the other came at him with churning fists.
Evie let out a cry of alarm, which somehow reached Sebastian’s ears through the thunder of the crowd. Distracted, he glanced in her direction, and he was instantly seized in a mauling clinch, with his neck caught in the vise of his opponent’s arm while his head was battered with heavy blows. “No,” Evie gasped, and started forward, only to be hauled back by a steely arm that clamped around her waist.
“Wait,” came a familiar voice in her ear. “Give him a chance.”
“Cam!” She twisted around wildly, her panicked gaze finding his exotic but familiar face with its elevated cheekbones and thick-lashed golden eyes. “They’ll hurt him,” she said, clutching at the lapels of his coat. “Go help him— Cam, you have to—”
“He’s already broken free,” Cam observed mildly, turning her around with inexorable hands. “Watch— he’s not doing badly.”
One of Sebastian’s opponents let loose with a mighty swing of his arm. Sebastian ducked and came back with a swift jab.
“Cam, why the d-devil aren’t you doing anything to help him?”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can! You’re used to fighting, far more than he—”
“He has to,” Cam said, his voice quiet and firm in her ear. “He’ll have no authority here otherwise. The men who work at the club have a notion of leadership that requires action as well as words. St. Vincent can’t ask them to do anything that he wouldn’t be willing to do himself. And he knows that. Otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this right now.”
Evie covered her eyes as one opponent endeavored to close in on her husband from behind while the other engaged him with a flurry of blows. “They’ll be loyal to him only if he is w-willing to use his fists in a pointless display of brute force?”
“Basically, yes.”
Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Winter

“According to most studies on the subject, boys who grow up without fathers grow up at a disadvantage.”
Clayton Lessor MA, LPC

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