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Quote by Richard Schmitt

“The building was crowded with men and women packing stuff into boxes and bags, leather stuff, nylon, canvas, and rubber stuff, with brass rings and silver chains, steel buckles and studded straps. Elephant stuff.”

Quote by Richard Schmitt

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Richard Schmitt

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“Basque aussi, mais de l'autre côté de la frontiére, Biarritz n'était à l'époque de Victor Hugo qu'un village de pécheurs. Mais le grand homme voyait loin : «Je n'ai qu'une peur, écrivait-il, c'est qu'il ne devienne la mode. Déjà on y vient de Madrid, bientôt on y viendra de Paris. [ ...] Biarritz mettra des rampes à ses dunes, des escaliers ses précipices, des kiosques à ses rochers, des bancs ses grottes, des pantalons ses baigneuses ... »”

TravelVictor HugoParadise LostMeta QuoteBiarritzTourism Abuse
Book:The Grand Tour: The Golden Age of Travel
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“Do you- do you want to dance with me?' I whispered. He was silent for so long that I lifted my head to scan his face. But his eyes were bright- silver-lined. 'You want to dance?' he rasped, his fingers curling around mine. I pointed with my chin toward the celebration below. 'Down there- with them.' Where the music beckoned, where life beckoned. Where he should spend the night with his friends, and where I wanted to spend it with them, too. Even with the strangers in attendance. I did not mind stepping out of the shadows, did not mind even being in the shadows to begin with, so long as he was with me. My friend through so many dangers- who had fought for me when no one else would, even myself. 'Of course I'll dance with you,' Rhys said, his voice still raw. 'All night, if you wish.' 'Even if I step on your toes?' 'Even then.' He leaned in, brushing his mouth against my heated cheek. I closed my eyes at the whisper of a kiss, at the hunger that ravaged me in its wake, that might ravage Prythian. And all around us, as if the world itself were indeed falling apart, stars rained down. Bits of stardust glowed on his lips as he pulled away, as I stared up at him, breathless, while he smiled. The smile the world would likely never see, the smile he'd given up for the sake of his people, his lands. He said softly, 'I am... very glad I met you, Feyre.' I blinked away the burning in my eyes. 'Come on,' I said, tugging on his hand. 'Let's go join the dance.”

LustSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryStarfallAsking To DanceGlad I Met You
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Another thing that interested us enormously was how different the camouflage of the french looked from the camouflage of the germans, and then once we came across some very very neat camouflage and it was american. The idea was the same but as after all it was different nationalities who did it the difference was inevitable. The colour schemes were different, the designs were different, the way of placing them was different, it made plain the whole theory of art and its inevitability.”

ArtDesignModernismCamouflage
Author:Gertrude Stein
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“Many caterpillars defend themselves not by striking fear in the hearts of their predators, but rather indifference. The large maple spanworm looks like a twig; the viceroy caterpillar looks like a bird dropping. This is not as exciting as looking like an anaconda, but when you are very small, and wingless, one of your main goals in life is to not be exciting. And speaking of unexciting—I think it is safe to say that woolly bears have one of the least advanced defense mechanisms among insects, although theirs is the reaction with which I most strongly identify: when distressed, the woolly bear rolls up into a ball.”

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Book:Things That Are
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“Alice haunted the mossy edge of the woods, lingering in patches of shade. She was waiting to hear his Austin-Healey throttle back when he careened down the utility road separating the state park from the cabins rimming the lake, but only the whistled conversation of buntings echoed in the branches above. The vibrant blue males darted deeper into the trees when she blew her own 'sweet-sweet chew-chew sweet-sweet' up to theirs. Pine seedlings brushed against her pants as she pushed through the understory, their green heads vivid beneath the canopy. She had dressed to fade into the forest; her hair was bundled up under a long-billed cap, her clothes drab and inconspicuous. When at last she heard his car, she crouched behind a clump of birch and made herself as small as possible, settling into a shallow depression of ferns and leaf litter.”

GreenWoodsHidingBirdsCamouflageBirdsongAlice Kessler
Book:The Gravity of Birds
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