Veola Caley > Veola's Quotes

“Educate not Legislate
Refusing to pass unnecessary laws requires a converse – encouraging education and understanding. We started by slashing the salaries of legislators (Dubbed “Bloodbath on the Beltway”). That move provided funds to instigate incentive programs for high school teachers – to attract the best and brightest. The result was a generation of bright, energetic 18-year-olds graduating high-school, equipped to tackle the future.”
― Nancy Omeara, The Most Popular President Who Ever Lived [So Far]

“The relator is part tardigrade, part fungus and all supernatural. It’s a new species of life bred for one specific reason, to communicate with Time.”
― Frank Lambert, Ghost Doors

“The truth has a way of coming out of the closet.”
― March Lions, The Last Sunset

“Oscar looked up from his plate, and if a cat could laugh, he would have. ‘Boy, that’s ugly, even for a jinn. Looks like a cross between a rat, a frog and a bottlebrush.”
― Sara Pascoe, Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

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

“Pasty old men on the porch played Texas hold ’em using Old West playing cards without numbers. They sipped joe and flashed toothless smiles as Anika and Sam marched toward the Alamo entrance. Though their smiles appeared genuine, even endearing, these weren’t the innocent grandpas from central casting. ”
― Chad Boudreaux, Homecoming Queen

“Какво по-унизително от чистата истина?”
― Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities

“The Second Table of the Ten Commandments reads in Hebrew something like this: 'Don't kill; don't be vile; don't steal; don't tell lies about others; don't envy any man his wife or house or animals, or anything he has.' This sounds shockingly wrong in English. For the English genius, religion is solemn and stately; Canterbury Cathedral, not a shul. The grand slow march of "Thou Shalt Nots" is exactly right. Religion for the Jews is intimate and colloquial, or it is nothing.”
― Herman Wouk, This is My God: A Guidebook to Judaism

“I would have to find something else to bury here and I wished it could be Charles.”
― Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle

“Why—why—” stammered the youth struggling with his balking tongue.”
― Stephen Crane, The Red Badge Of Courage

“Never explain what you do. It speaks for itself. You only muddle it by talking about it.”
― Shel Silverstein

“If you always try to subjugate people by coercion, because you are strong, then sooner or later you will run into somebody who is just as strong, if not stronger. Then you'll be in trouble.”
― Max Nowaz, The Polymorph

“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

“If he had even blinked, she would have been gone; but he did not blink, and he held her, as he had learned to hold griffins and chimeras motionless with his steady gaze. Her bare feet wounded him deeper than any tusk or riving talon ever had, but he was a true hero.”
― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

“به آرامی آغاز به مردن می‌كنی
اگر سفر نكنی
اگر كتابی نخوانی
اگر به اصوات زندگی گوش ندهی
اگر از خودت قدردانی نكنی
به آرامی آغاز به مردن می‌كنی
زماني كه خودباوري را در خودت بكشی
وقتي نگذاري ديگران به تو كمك كنند
به آرامي آغاز به مردن می‌كنی
اگر برده‏ی عادات خود شوی
اگرهميشه از يك راه تكراری بروی
اگر روزمرّگی را تغيير ندهی
اگر رنگ‏های متفاوت به تن نكنی
يا اگر با افراد ناشناس صحبت نكنی
تو به آرامی آغاز به مردن می‌كنی
اگر از شور و حرارت
از احساسات سركش
و از چيزهايی كه چشمانت را به درخشش وامی‌دارند
و ضربان قلبت را تندتر مي‌كنند
دوری كنی

تو به آرامی آغاز به مردن می‌كنی
اگر هنگامی كه با شغلت،‌ يا عشقت شاد نيستی، آن را عوض نكنی
اگر برای مطمئن در نامطمئن خطر نكنی
اگر ورای روياها نروی
اگر به خودت اجازه ندهی
كه حداقل يك بار در تمام زندگي‏ات
ورای مصلحت‌انديشی بروی
امروز زندگی را آغاز كن
امروز مخاطره كن
امروز كاری كن”
― پابلو نرودا

“If I had grown up in that house I couldn't have loved it more, couldn't have been more familiar with the creak of the swing, or the pattern of the clematis vines on the trellis, or the velvety swell of land as it faded to gray on the horizon, and the strip of highway visible -just barely – in the hills, beyond the trees. The very colors of the place had seeped into my blood: just as Hampden, in subsequent years, would always present itself immediately to my imagination in a confused whirl of white and green and red, so the country house first appeared as a glorious blur of watercolors, of ivory and lapis blue, chestnut and burnt orange and gold, separating only gradually into the boundaries of remembered objects: the house, the sky, the maple trees. But even that day, there on the porch, with Charles beside me and the smell of wood smoke in the air, it had the quality of a memory; there it was, before my eyes, and yet too beautiful to believe.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“Perhaps, in the extravagance of youth, we give away our devotions easily and all but arbitrarily, on the mistaken assumption that we’ll always have more to give.”
― Michael Cunningham, A Home at the End of the World

“Sprouts have come under intense scrutiny since they are grown in an environment that invites unwanted bacteria and are often consumed raw. In fact, many large grocery store chains do not carry sprouts of any kind to avoid liability concerns. If you are cooking for anyone with a compromised immune system, we recommend avoiding sprouts or cooking them before serving.”
― Irma S. Rombauer, Joy of Cooking

“I look at the field, and I think about the boy who just made the touchdown. I think that these are the glory days for that boy, and this moment will just be another story someday because all the people who make touchdowns and home runs will become somebody's dad. And when his children look at his yearbook photograph, they will think that their dad was rugged and handsome and looked a lot happier than they are. I just hope I remember to tell my kids that they are as happy as I look in my old photographs. And I hope that they believe me.”
― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower