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Quote by George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“...certainly I had the wherewithal to unravel the mysteries that lay at the heart of a moron... Far too much is written about great men and not nearly enough about morons. Doesn't seem right.”

Quote by George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

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George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

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“I'm calling in a favor," she stated. Silence filled the line. She could almost feel the intractable Breed mulling over possibilities and wondering which favor she would call. "You have a surplus," he finally sighed. "Will it get me killed?" She almost grinned at that. She couldn't imagine Mordecai contemplating death, let alone worrying if it would affect him. "I guess anything is possible," she mused. "You backing out?" He grunted at that. "Life's too long sometimes anyway.”

“What is your name?" She and Mordecai had discussed what to do if she ever faced this situation. "Do not tell them you are Jewish," he had said. "And tell them your name is Esther. It is the Persian version of Hadassah." "What is your name?" the man asked again. "Esther," she said, nearly choking on the name. "I am the daughter of Abihail. My cousin Mordecai is my adopted father.”

“He glanced at the stars before passing over the threshold. Thank You for intervening and using my Esther to help her people. I will trust You to complete the work soon. Whether or not they talked about Him in Susa, God had become very real to Mordecai, and he knew that without Adonai's intervention, there would have been no night like this one. And without Adonai's future help, there would be no rescue in days to come.”

“Amanda Werner and several other beautiful, elegant, conically breasted foreign ladies, from unspecified vaguely defined countries, plus a few bucolic co-called humorists, comprised Buster's perpetual core of repeats. Women like Amanda Werner never made movies, never appeared in plays; they lived out their queer, beautiful lives as guests on Buster's unending show, appearing, Isidore had once calculated, as much as seventy hours a week.”

“Най-сетне Уве прикляка, изравя старото цвете, което бе засадил миналата седмица и внимателно го прибира в найлоново пликче. Разрохква внимателно замръзналата почва, преди да бодне новите цветя. - Пак са надули цената на електричеството - уведомява я той, когато се изправя. Гледа я дълго. Най-сетне отпуска ръка на огромния камък и го гали нежно от едната страна към другата, сякаш милва бузата ѝ. - Липсваш ми - прошепва той. Изминали са шест месеца от смъртта ѝ. Въпреки това Уве проверява къщата по два пъти на ден, да не би тя тайно да е засилила парното.”