Eustolia Stavis > Eustolia's Quotes

“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 image of the sensual, sleep-laden Naomi made him smile. And wish he’d been lying on the pillow next to her when she’d opened her eyes. Lucky pillow.”
― Lotchie Burton, Gabriel's Fire

“Sustain joy by anchoring yourself with gratitude.”
― C. Toni Graham

“Ala Moire’s voice whispered in Alastair Munro’s head. “Well done, Alastair. The young King’s heart is for good and God is pleased. In future times he will be known as the Peacemaker and will become the greatest of all the Dewar kings.”
History would remember Dewar the Third’s reign as the greatest of the age, sixty years of peace and prosperity, of law and order, and most of all, of humility and love. His journey had begun.
Robert Reid – White Light Red Fire”
― Robert Reid, White Light Red Fire

“If there was one thing a former sniper could do well, it was wait. Patiently. Quietly. Without a sound. Barely a movement. Just him, a quiet mind and his breath.”
― J. Rose Black, Losing My Breath

“(there is no pepper on the table; evidently pepper perks the libido),”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“Jack laughed behind him, a mirthless sound from a man who had been on the wrong end of life's ironies too many times.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. 
I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the crime I planned. He chose what I have to offer.
We were almost to the cemetery before he asked where we were going. I answered with another question. “Do you like living in the High Lord’s kitchens?”
He, of course, replied, “No.”
“Well, we’re going to a better place.”
When we reached the edge of the Wood, I pushed aside a branch to see the Temple of Loric and Calec’s cottage. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and I assumed the old man was yet abed. His pony was grazing in the field of graves. The sun hid behind a bank of clouds.
Malison moved beside me. “It’s a graveyard.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” I asked.
“My father’s a ghost,” he whispered.
I asked if he wanted to learn how to throw a knife. He said, “Yes,” as I knew he would.  He untucked his shirt, withdrew the knife he had stolen and gave it to me. It was a thick-bladed, single-edged knife, better suited for dicing celery than slitting a young throat. But it would serve my purpose. That I also knew. I’d spent all night projecting how the morning would unfold and, except for indulging in the tea, it had happened as I had imagined. 
Damut kissed her son farewell. Malison followed me of his own free will. Without fear, he placed the instrument of his death into my hand. We were at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The stolen knife was warm from the heat of his body. I had only to use it. Yet I hesitated, and again prayed for Sythene to show me a different path.
“Aren’t you going to show me?” Malison prompted, as if to echo my prayer.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“Mrs. Kooshof's intolerance for complexity, for the looping circuitry of a well-told tale, symptomizes an epidemic disease of our modern world. (I see it daily among my students. The short attention span, the appetite limited to linearity. Too much Melrose Place.)”
― Tim O'Brien, Tomcat in Love

“His son lost everything because he was trying to do his job and protect himself. His life matters too, you know?"
I cannot right now. I can't. I stand up or otherwise I will say or do something really stupid. Like punch her.
...
"Are you serious right now? Hailey asks. "What's wrong with saying his life matters too?"
"His life always matters more!" My voice is gruff, and my throat is tight. "That's the problem!”
― Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

“The Industrial Revolution is primarily a virus revolution, dedicated to proliferation of identical objects and persons. You are making soap, you don't give a shit who buys your soap, the more the soapier.”
― William S. Burroughs, The Place of Dead Roads

“Uno tiene miedo porque la gente siempre tiene miedo.”
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

“The explanations for the things we do in life are many and complex. Supposedly mature adults should live by logic, listen to their reason. Think things out before they act.

But maybe they never heard what Dr. London told me one, Freud said that for the little things in life we should react according to our reason. But for really big decisions, we should heed what our unconscious tells us.”
― Erich Segal

“Eros aimed one of his arrows at Medea, and drove it into her heart, up to the feathers.”
― Robert Graves