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A Quotes

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All A Quotes

“Alexander the Great changed a few boundaries and killed a few men. Both he and Napoleon were forced into fame by circumstances outside of themselves and by currents of the time, but Margaret Sanger made currents and circumstances. When the history of our civilization is written, it will be a biological history and Margaret Sanger will be its heroine.”

“Alexander works diligently and with such care that her heart can't help but flutter. He preheats the oven, saws off four thick pieces of sourdough bread, spreads a generous layer of mayo instead of butter before searing to a perfect golden brown in a pan. Once browned, he uses a single clove of garlic and rubs it against the bread, giving an otherwise boring piece of toast that extra herbal kick. He's generous with the layers of cheese he applies--- in this case, sharp cheddar and mozzarella--- before he lays everything together, lovingly wraps the food up in a sheet of parchment paper, and pops it in the oven to melt. Once he's satisfied, he pulls the sandwich out and drizzles the top with the lightest trace of honey; a playful balance of sweet and salty. Alexander plates up without pomp or circumstance, returning to Eden with the fanciest grilled cheese she's ever eaten in her entire life.”

“Alexander's achievement was not the conquest of India, but the feat of actually getting there and his two years in India were more of a geographical expedition than a military campaign. .... a Greek army had reached what they regarded as the end of the earth. They had pitted themselves against the ultimate as bravely as the yogins had struggled to break through the limits of the human psyche. Where mystics had conquered interior space, Alexander explored the farthest reaches of the physical world. .... like many of the axial sages, he was constantly 'straining after more'.”

“Alexander, you broke my heart. But for carrying me on your back, for pulling my dying sled, for giving me your last bread, for the body you destroyed for me, for the son you have given me, for the twenty-nine days we lived like Red Birds of Paradise, for all our Naples sands and Napa wines, for all the days you have been my first and last breath, for Orbeli- I will forgive you.”

“Alexandra Malkovic woke out of the nightmare that had bedevilled her sleep for days. She sat up, shivering, her heart thumping. For a few seconds she could not recognise her surroundings, then the outlines of the sparse furnishings of the room solidified in the faint moonlight coming through a gap in the curtains. This was her room in the house they had commandeered in Bihac, the city Tito’s Partisans had captured after a bitter battle a few weeks before Christmas – a battle in which she had played an important part. This was safety, an end to the long weeks on the march, sleeping on the hard ground, alert always to the sound of movement in the surrounding forest and the distant howling of wolves. So why could she not sleep in peace?”

“Alexandre Nevski a d’ailleurs toutes les raisons de penser que les « Allemands », comme on appelle alors tout ce qui vient d’Occident, constituent un danger plus effrayant que les Tatars. Les croisés occupent les territoires qu’ils conquièrent, ce que ne font pas les Tatars ; il y bâtissent des forteresses, des villes, s’emparent des terres. Les croisés, les « chiens-chevaliers » comme les nommera Marx, convertissent au catholicisme les populations soumises. Là encore, ils se distinguent des Tatars, très tolérants sur le plan religieux.”

“Alexandria,” he began, the name lingering on the morning air as though it did not belong amongst trees, but instead somewhere much safer, much more enclosed. “Christian,” she breathed after her name had remained uncomfortably within his ears for a most distressing period of time. The tears in her eyes had begun to fill quickly and more tears fell as she stared upon him expectantly, and he was quite suddenly aware that a drink of blood would be most desirable to ease the sheer uncomfortable edge he felt with her stare.”

“Alexandros of Antioch took a block of marble and chiseled away from it everything that was not his masterpiece, the Venus de Milo. If you will chisel away one fault from your character every day, you may discover - a) that you're actually a statue of Margaret Thatcher. b) that you're still just a block of marble. c) that there are pigeon droppings on your shoes. d) that you, too, are a hidden masterpiece.”

“Alexandru gave a put out expression, “I was simply attempting civilized conversation.” “I’m fine. He’s fine. We’re both fine.” “Indubitably,” Alexandru said with a neutrality that Garrett didn’t believe. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “Why must you always insist on being difficult?” Garrett eyed Alexandru incredulously, “I could ask you why you insist on being so difficult and why you fucking lie so much,” Garrett waved his hand around, “About everything.” “Your continued insistence I have wronged you so grievously is childish.”

“Alexei has created a language of a hundred and twelve thousand words controlled by an elaborate syntax. It is a pity that no one can enjoy it along with Alexei, but he refuses to translate a single word. He has been accused of both narcissism and ostentation, but he is never offended. It is the typical artist, so he declares, who is mad for acclaim and whose self-esteem depends upon adulation. Alexei sees himself as a lonely man, indifferent to both praise and censure.” Wayness craned her neck. “He is now playing the concertina and dancing a jig, all at the same time. What do you make of that?” “It is just Alexei in one of his moods; it means nothing.”

“Alexia had found pregnancy relatively manageable, up to a point. That point having been some three weeks ago, at which juncture her natural reserves of control gave way to sentimentality. Only yesterday she had ended breakfast sobbing over the fried eggs because they looked at her funny. The pack had spent a good half hour trying to find a way to pacify her. Her husband was so worried he looked to start crying himself.”