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Quote by Maggie Young

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Just Another Number

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Maggie Young

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“Not able to stop it, I felt a small smile tilt up the corners of my mouth. "Noted. Althought I must protest that you keep forcing unwanted kisses on me." "It's the only way to get one. Unwanted indeed." He raised a knowing eyebrow at me. Arrogant Knave. I shook my head, feeling sad and happy all at the same time. "Why do you persist, Wolfe?" His grin was slow and wicked as he stood back from me, allowing my body and mind to breathe again. "Strategy." "Strategy?" He cocked his eyebrow. "At first I thought imposed isolation would make you miss me-" "Why you arro-" "-But then I realised that it's being near me you can't resist. And there are only so many kisses you'll take before you give in to me completely, Rogan.”

WolfeRogan
Book:Slumber
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“I wonder if it was your father who made you think so little of yourself,” Wolfe said, which was not at all what Jess expected. “Having met the man, I would believe it. But, Jess: don’t believe what the demons whisper in the corners of your mind. We all have demons. You are not to be compared against any of the others, or against your own brother. You are yourself. And if I had not seen genius in you, I never would have kept you in the class. I don’t coddle mediocrity.”

WolfeJess
Book:Sword and Pen
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“Here's to the kids who are different, The kids who don't always get A's, The kids who have ears twice the size of their peers, And noses that go on for days... Here's to the kids who are different, The kids they call crazy or dumb, The kids who don't fit, with the guts and the grit, Who dance to a different drum... Here's to the kids who are different, The kids with the mischievous streak, For when they have grown, as history's shown, It's their difference that makes them unique!”

DifferentKidsWolfe
Author:Digby Wolfe
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“Le parole sono una forma elementare di mnemonica: una sequenza di suoni (l’alfabeto) usati per ricordare qualsiasi cosa, dalla più piccola alla più grande. Il linguaggio è, in sostanza, il ricorso a queste particolari mnemotecniche – le parole – per creare significato. E il parlare altro non è che un sistema ... mnemonico: un sistema che ha permesso all’Homo sapiens di assumere il controllo dell’intero mondo. È il linguaggio, e il linguaggio soltanto, con la sua mnemonica, che crea la memoria nel momento in cui l’Homo sapiens ne fa esperienza. Persino le scimmie più intelligenti non hanno pensieri, al massimo reazioni condizionate a certe pressioni primordiali, primi fra tutti il bisogno di cibo e il timore di fronte a minacce fisiche. Si badi bene, però, che la mnemonica non è semplicemente al servizio del linguaggio: la mnemonica è il linguaggio. Per tutta la storia del parlare umano – ed è irrilevante azzardare le solite congetture paleontologiche riguardo la sua datazione – l’uomo ha convertito oggetti, azioni, pensieri, concetti ed emozioni in codici chiamati convenzionalmente parole. Oggi nessuno sa – e non c’è ragione di ritenere che qualcuno avrà mai buone probabilità di saperlo – quando sia accaduto all’Homo sapiens di usare le parole come mnemonica, ma attualmente vi sono in tutto il mondo sei-settemila sistemi mnemonici diversi, meglio noti come lingue. Questi, e questi soli, sono il linguaggio. Semplici e chiari. Potrà anche essere divertente starsene a guardare individui, peraltro di comprovata intelligenza, spaccarsi il cranio contro lo stesso firewall: intere mandrie, intere generazioni, ere, età, un intero, luminoso firmamento di individui... Ma fino a quando?”

WolfeParola
Book:Il regno della parola
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“He sounded oddly calm. “It’s risky.” My arm is in the mouth of a sphinx that’s only a moment from ripping it from the socket. Risky sounds quite safe, Wolfe thought, but he didn’t say it. Too many words. “Tell me!” “Work your arm free,” Jess said. “Run. Make for the Minotaur. If you can make them fight each other—” Risky wasn’t the right word for it. Suicidal was far more on point.”

WolfeJess
Book:Sword and Pen
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“Waste forces within him, and a desert all around, this man stood still on his way across a silent terrace, and saw for a moment, lying in the wilderness before him, a mirage of honourable ambition, self-denial, and perseverance. In the fair city of this vision, there were airy galleries from which the loves and graces looked upon him, gardens in which the fruits of life hung ripening, waters of Hope that sparkled in his sight. A moment and it was gone. Climbing to a high chamber in a well of houses, he threw himself down in his clothes on a neglected bed, and its pillow was wet with wasted tears.”

HopeSorrowPicturesque Description
Book:a tale of two cities
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