Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Nicole Tsopo

Quote by Nicole Tsopo

“Laugh, I am an idiot,” I say, my voice tinged with a mix of jest and earnest. I stride back to her, dropping to one knee in the pooling water and taking both her hands in mine. “But love is a fool’s task, and I am its willing jester.” Her smile, though tinged with fatigue, radiates through the encroaching gloom. “Love?” she asks, a whisper in the vast silence. It’s a question tinted with longing. “What else could define us?”

Quote by Nicole Tsopo

Work

Chani's Stone and A Prince of Netherus

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Nicole Tsopo

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Nicole Tsopo. more

You May Also Like

“But as the 20th century dawned, Freudian psychology promoted the regressive notion that women suffer an intrinsic deficiency resulting in “penis envy.” Freud wrote that the “depreciation of women, horror of women, and a disposition to homosexuality are derived from the final conviction that women have no penis.” In his view, Medusa's face represents a “vagina dentata”—a hideous toothed vagina—surrounded by the writhing phalluses of castrated men.”

“I fill Grant in on my boring day of bids, the embarrassment of the staff meeting where Murph called me out for signing off on the Rick Bayless restaurant bathrooms without noticing that we installed the women's room door on the men's bathroom. "Apparently our little Anneke can pee in a urinal with no problem, so it didn't occur to her that the other ladies might not have such great aim." This was received with a roomful of laughter, and Liam jumped right in. "Well, she does have bigger balls than you, Murph." It took five minutes before everyone stopped laughing and poking fun, and I sat there smiling and chuckling as if it didn't matter. And then I said that my balls were perfectly delicate and ladylike, but my dick was definitely bigger than Murph's, and the room went totally silent in that way where you can almost hear the needle scratching violently across the record, and he glared at me and curtly told me to get the hell over there and fix it and apologize to Rick for the error. Lucky for me, Rick Bayless is a very kind gent, and pals with Grant, so we laughed about it and he made a delicious torta that he has been experimenting with and we split it and talked about Grant's new place, and he sent me off with a bag of warm churros, so the day was somewhat saved.”

“She always had a big pot of oatmeal going on the stove and was happy to whip up a short stack of pancakes at the drop of a hat, but she pretty much made the rest of the plates to order. After the first week she had a good handle not only on what each man liked for his morning meal, but what he needed. Mr. Cupertino still loved the occasional inspired omelet and once she had made him Eggs Meurette, poached eggs in a red wine sauce, served with a chunk of crusty French bread, which was a big hit. She balanced him out other mornings with hot cereal, and fresh fruit with yogurt or cottage cheese. Johnny mostly went for bowls of cereal washed down with an ocean of cold milk, so Angelina kept a nice variety on hand, though nothing too sugary. The Don would happily eat a soft-boiled egg with buttered toast every day for the rest of his life, but she inevitably got him to eat a little bowl of oatmeal just before or after with his coffee. Big Phil was on the receiving end of her supersize, stick-to-your-ribs special- sometimes scrambled eggs, toast, potatoes, and bacon, other times maybe a pile of French toast and a slice of ham. Angelina decided to start loading up his plate on her own when she realized he was bashful about asking for seconds. On Sundays, she put on a big spread at ten o'clock, after they had all been to church, which variously included such items as smoked salmon and bagels, sausages, broiled tomatoes with a Parmesan crust, scrapple (the only day she'd serve it), bacon, fresh, hot biscuits and fruit muffins, or a homemade fruit strudel. She made omelets to order for Jerry and Mr. Cupertino. Then they'd all reconvene at five for the Sunday roast with all the trimmings.”

“As far as the guys were concerned, the storm clouds had miraculously been lifted as unexpectedly as they had gathered, and much to their relief, it was all clear skies, blueberry waffles, and sunshine again. Angelina had set four beautiful frittatas on the table, sliced in wedges. She had topped them, in turn, with caramelized shallots and ricotta; grape tomatoes, fresh basil, and mozzarella; bacon and cheddar and broccoli rabe; and roasted garlic and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. She had laid a cast-iron pan filled with fried potatoes on the table and placed fresh-baked, frosted sweet rolls in a basket in the middle.”