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A Quotes

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All A Quotes

“And the world out there is not within our control, our past -even that we keep trying to change it- it's just not within our control to change, but everything else is. Everything in our present experience is within our control [...]. What we decide to think, what we think about, are completely within our control. We forget this. We think that our thoughts are not within our control and in fact most of us don't even know what we're thinking. We are responding to our thoughts that we aren't even aware of. This really matters because our thoughts are what create our feelings. Everything you do in your life is becase you want to feel a certain way. Every single thing you do is because you want to feel a certain way. That is really good to know, and if your feelings are caused by your thoughs and what you do in your life you do it to feel better wouln't it be important to know what you're thinking?”

“And the world will still be imperfect, because men are imperfect. Good men will still be killed by bad, or sometimes by other good men, and there will still be pain and disease and famine, anger and hate. But if you work and care and are watchful, as we have tried to be for you, then in the long run the worse will never, ever, triumph over the better. And the gifts put into some men, that shine as bright as Eirias the sword, shall light the dark corners of life for all the rest, in so brave a world.”

“And their voices had a keenly musical quality. It wasn't that the animal people barked out literal instrumental notes or sand when they spoke. Rather, their words ignited emotional responses Nina had previously only experienced through music. When they were worried, she experienced the squeals of violins, the quick-heartbeat thrum of a thriller soundtrack. Risk and Reign's bickering had the impact of a rattling gourd and snare drum. Oli's hopeful questions were reminiscent of the lo-fi hip-hop Nina played when she studied.”

“And then a door opened and a man appeared, coming out of the living room. He was in his late thirties, with dark hair and a moustache, wearing a blue blazer with a crest on the front pocket. He had a lazy walk, one hand in his pocket and a cigarette in the other. Fraser had the immediate thought that this was a man whom it would be easy to dislike. He did not just arouse antipathy; he almost seemed to cultivate it.”

“And then a masculine voice drawled virtually into her scalp, fluttering her hair and causing gooseflesh to sweep up her arms. "Do you think it's fair that you have seen every inch of me, and I have seen none of you?" Oh no, oh no, oh no. Her heart had recovered. It was now drilling away inside her chest like a woodpecker. The warmth of the man's body behind her was as penetrating as a sunbeam, though not one bit of him actually touched her---she pressed herself closer to the oak tree, to make bloody sure of that. But his scent immobilized her as surely as a net: sun-heated skin and the faintest tang of sweat, and something else, something rich and complicated and fundamental that started a primal buzz of recognition in her blood and made her peculiarly aware of how very female she happened to be. This wasn't the groomed-for-a-ball brew of starch and soap with which she was familiar. This was stripped-to-the-essence male.”