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Quote by Marilyn Levinson

“A hand pressed hard against her back. Or was it two? She couldn't remember. All she knew was that one minute, she was waiting restlessly to cross the street, the next she was sprawled in the road, dreading the oncoming car that would hit her any second now.”

Quote by Marilyn Levinson

Book:Come Home to Death
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Come Home to Death

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Marilyn Levinson

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Author:Erik Pevernagie
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“I wanna know something,” Lexi said. “In mystery books, clues come flying out of nowhere in every single chapter. Why is ours so slow?” I thought a second. “Books aren't like real life, I guess. Mom says we read books to escape. Like when we read Sally-Anne books, we go back to when everyone wore saddle shoes and poodle skirts and went to soda shops.”

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Book:Growing Toward the Sun
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“Why did I lie? I hadn’t planned on lying. When that stranger handed me the journal and looked at me with his big, desperate eyes, I wasn’t planning anything. I intended to give it to whoever asked for it. But when I was standing there in front of Officer Keating and his suspicious-looking partner, I didn’t. It wasn’t some elaborate plan or a scheme. I just didn’t open my mouth. It was like my mind decided without me that I should hang on to it.”

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Book:Where Is She?
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“يحظى معتنقو الإسلام بقدر عال من الاحترام في مجتمعاتهم, بيد أن معتنقات الإسلام غالباً ما يجدن أنفسهن أقل تقديراً. و على الرغم من أنهن أكثر عدداً من الرجال و أكثر تمسكاً بدينهن كما رأيت بنفسي, و يبذلن جهوداً أكبر للمساهمة في الأنشطة الإسلامية, إلا أن كثيراً منهن يندبن مصيرهن الذي يؤول إلى التهميش و الإهمال, أو حتى الازدراء في مجتمعاتهن.”

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Book:ضياع ديني: صرخة المسلمين في الغرب
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“Elles ont le corps pulpeux là où le regard mâle cherche du rebondi, quelque chose de ferme, doux et chaud pour remplir une paume rêche, rarement propre à cause des travaux manuels qui ne sont pas le lot des maîtres au village. Le type usé cherche un corps jeune pour essuyer ses mains crottées d'homme vaillant, un corps-torchon qui sent bon la vanille importée, la mauvaise gousse taillée, puis frottée entre les seins et à l'attache des bras qui n'a pas connu le fil du couteau sur la veine la plus apparente, celle qui pisserait rouge si on la tranchait dans le sens de la mort.”

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“Mes juk visi užaugom šaly, kur vabščie nieka gera nebuva, jau nekalbant, ka būtų kas originalaus. Pobeda nuo amerikonų. Volga nuknista nuo amerikonų. Žiags nuo italų. Apie maskaradą su Zapu vien pagalvojus silpna, be i tie lygtais irgi nuo tų pačių italų - i nuo kada italai geriausias mašinas dara? Senis Šaltis nuo Santa Klaua nuimts. Nu, pogodi, geriausias multiks, nuo Toma i Džeria. Čipolins čia virta Buratinu, o daktars Dolitlis - daktaru Aibolitu. O jūs bandien palygint motorolerius Vitka i Vespa ? Atskiriat? Aš tai ne. Nu tai va. Jaučiu, net Sibira lageriai nuo Hitlerio nuimti.”

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Book:Pietinia kronikas
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