Chery Deuel > Chery's Quotes

“It wasn’t always that way for the wives of powerful men. Prior to the 1960s, the press generally kept mum about the sex lives of politicians. When Eleanor Roosevelt discovered her husband’s affair by reading a love letter, she kept it to herself — and used it to gain the upper hand in her marriage, which had the additional benefit of setting her free to pursue writing and social activism.”
― Anne Michaud, Why They Stay: Sex Scandals, Deals, and Hidden Agendas of Eight Political Wives

“As it turns out, Lot’s wife couldn’t sever her ties with Sodom, and God knew that she had left at least a part of her heart in that wicked place. She wasn’t able to move on. In other words, she “looked back.”
― Spencer C Demetros, The Bible: Enter Here: Bringing God's Word to Life for Today's Teens

“Mr. Bialy said you were a good guy.”
“You don’t want a good guy representing you in situations like this one. You want a barracuda when it comes to dealing with bad cops, negligent police departments, and attorneys who represent them. They are afraid of me; they think I’m a bad guy. Please don’t give away my secret.” Sarah chuckles through her tears. He has an easy way about him. I hope he’s an ass-kicker in court.
“Your secret is safe with me, Zack.”
― Mark M. Bello, Betrayal In Black

“Perception s the only reality that matters”
― Barry Kirwan, Eden's Endgame

“I marveled at the beauty of all life and savored the power and possibilities of my imagination. In these rare moments, I prayed, I danced, and I analyzed. I saw that life was good and bad, beautiful and ugly. I understood that I had to dwell on the good and beautiful in order to keep my imagination, sensitivity, and gratitude intact. I knew it would not be easy to maintain this perspective. I knew I would often twist and turn, bend and crack a little, but I also knew that…I would never completely break.”
― Maria Nhambu, Africa's Child

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Ryan said. “I don’t know who or what I am anymore. How can I help and heal people when I am drinking their blood!”
― Marie Montine, Arising Son: Part One

“Of course, I was much younger back then. And not exactly willing.”
― M S M Barkawitz, Feeling Lucky

“This book is dedicated to my children, Pi, Coco, and Jay. When your grandkids are old enough to read this book, tell them how much I loved you.”
― J.K. Franko, Eye for Eye

“Seeing the pictures every evening while finishing the New York Times and waiting for dinner was his joy. Francine was unaware of his pleasure.  He could not reveal these feelings to the children or Francine. Silly. A father loves his children but can’t speak of it for fear of being made trivial.”
― Vincent Panettiere, Shared Sorrows

“Němci mi nevěnovali pozornost. V polském voze by polského žida poznali po čuchu.”
― Art Spiegelman, The Complete Maus

“Julian’s not at the house in Bel Air, but there’s a note on the door saying that he might be at some house on King’s Road. Julian’s not at the house on King’s Road either, but some guy with braces and short platinum-blond hair and a bathing suit on lifting weights is in the backyard. He puts one of the weights down and lights a cigarette and asks me if I want a Quaalude. I ask him where Julian is. There’s a girl lying by the pool on a chaise longue, blond, drunk, and she says in a really tired voice, ‘Oh, Julian could be anywhere. Does he owe you money?’ The girl has brought a television outside and is watching some movie about cavemen. ‘No,’ I tell her. ‘Well, that’s good. He promised to pay for a gram of coke I got him.’ She shakes her head. ‘Nope. He never did.’ She shakes her head again, slowly, her voice thick, a bottle of gin, half-empty, by her side. The weightlifter with the braces on asks me if I want to buy a Temple of Doom bootleg cassette. I tell him no and then ask him to tell Julian that I stopped by. The weight-lifter nods his head like he doesn’t understand and the girl asks him if he got the backstage passes to the Missing Persons concert. He says, ‘Yeah, baby,’ and she jumps in the pool. Some caveman gets thrown off a cliff and I split.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

“...They were very good observers of water, weather, all animals and growing things...”
― Annie Proulx, Barkskins

“The characters in my novels are my own unrealised possibilities. That is why I am equally fond of them all and equally horrified by them. Each one has crossed a border that I myself have circumvented.”
― Milan Kundera

“Tis the opinion of myself, Sanderson Pratt, who sets this down, that the educational system of the United States should be in the hands of the weather bureau. I can give you good reasons for it; and you can’t tell me why our college professors shouldn’t be transferred to the meteorological department.”
― O. Henry, Delphi Complete Works of O. Henry

“Miserable people cannot afford to dislike each other”
― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

“The sunset bled into the edges of the village. Smoke curled out of the cottage chimney like a crooked finger.”
― Sara Pascoe, Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

“You can be a natural athlete with terrible work habits, and that ends up wasting your gifts.”
― Vernon Davis, Playing Ball: Life Lessons from My Journey to the Super Bowl and Beyond

“Sometimes truths are what we run from, and sometimes they are what we seek.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“At what point does faith become insanity?”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“I was just stunned; Aunt Kathy had actually moved on to another dimension! It finally happened! That lady was damn near invincible! She had survived assaults, coronaries, fevers, famines, flus, floods, plagues, pandemics, strokes, andglobal warming for almost 100 years. I’m willing to bet she outlived the Ice Age, but there’s no way to confirm it. If anyone told the devil “You’re a Lie,” it was Aunt Kathy. She just had a way of coming back and back like a sequel to a never-ending horror story. Whenever she fell ill, she reappeared as a new being more hostile than the previous entity.”
― Harold Phifer, My Bully, My Aunt, & Her Final Gift

“The beautiful stranger cuddled Cindy, and she rocked the chair slightly as she spoke softly to her. “Suicide is a problem, not a solution. Humans you love would be hurt deeply if you left them. Becky Johnson and her parents would be crushed. Your grandparents in Florida never forget to mention your name in their evening prayers. I have loved you before and since your first heartbeat. Your father loves you. He will be rightfully proud when I tell him about your brave attempt to protect Pretty Boy.”
“You will speak to Daddy?”
“I will.”
“Please, may I know? Who are you?”
“I am your guardian angel, Cindy.”
― Shafter Bailey, Cindy Divine: The Little Girl Who Frightened Kings

“It was hidden in a column in the middle pages of The Courier in June 2019. The headline did not stand out as anything special. It was headed ‘Ancient staff discovered near Kinfauns Castle mystifies archaeologists’.”
― Robert Reid, The Thief

“What is she looking for?  She thought she had found it with Kyle.  But maybe she hadn’t. Perhaps she was looking for stability, security, sameness because her growing-up years had seemed so fragmented, and she often felt unsure of how she fit in.  Maybe stability isn’t all she is looking for.”
― Dawn Chalker, Lost and Found

“Various large trees— willowy peppers and especially the pines—seem to be reaching down to hold your hand.”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“It's your heart. No one else gets a say in that.”
― Jay Asher, What Light

“Where you are depends on how you get there.”
― Robert Munsch

“After his initial homecoming week, after he'd been taken to a bunch of sights by his cousins, after he'd gotten somewhat used to the scorching weather and the surprise of waking up to the roosters and being called Huascar by everybody (that was his Dominican name, something else he'd forgotten), after he refused to succumb to that whisper that all long-term immigrants carry inside themselves, the whisper that says You do not belong, after he'd gone to about fifty clubs and because he couldn't dance salsa, merengue, or bachata had sat and drunk Presidentes while Lola and his cousins burned holes in the floor, after he'd explained to people a hundred times that he'd been separated from his sister at birth, after he spent a couple of quiet mornings on his own, writing, after he'd given out all his taxi money to beggars and had to call his cousin Pedro Pablo to pick him up, after he'd watched shirtless shoeless seven-year-olds fighting each other for the scraps he'd left on his plate at an outdoor cafe, after his mother took them all to dinner in the Zona Colonial and the waiters kept looking at their party askance (Watch out, Mom, Lola said, they probably think you're Haitian - La unica haitiana aqui eres tu, mi amor, she retorted), after a skeletal vieja grabbed both his hands and begged him for a penny, after his sister had said, You think that's bad, you should see the bateys, after he'd spent a day in Bani (the camp where La Inca had been raised) and he'd taken a dump in a latrine and wiped his ass with a corn cob - now that's entertainment, he wrote in his journal - after he'd gotten somewhat used to the surreal whirligig that was life in La Capital - the guaguas, the cops, the mind-boggling poverty, the Dunkin' Donuts, the beggars, the Haitians selling roasted peanuts at the intersections, the mind-boggling poverty, the asshole tourists hogging up all the beaches, the Xica de Silva novelas where homegirl got naked every five seconds that Lola and his female cousins were cracked on, the afternoon walks on the Conde, the mind-boggling poverty, the snarl of streets and rusting zinc shacks that were the barrios populares, the masses of niggers he waded through every day who ran him over if he stood still, the skinny watchmen standing in front of stores with their brokedown shotguns, the music, the raunchy jokes heard on the streets, the mind-boggling poverty, being piledrived into the corner of a concho by the combined weight of four other customers, the music, the new tunnels driving down into the bauxite earth [...]”
― Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

“In my mind are all the tides, their seasons, their ebbs and their flows. In my mind are all the halls, the endless procession of them, the intricate pathways. When this world becomes too much for me, when I grow tired of the noise and the dirt and the people, I close my eyes and I name a particular vestibule to myself; then I name a hall.”
― Susanna Clarke, Piranesi