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D Quotes

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All D Quotes

“Diana can read power levels,” Astrid said. “Did she ever…” Sam nodded. “She said the baby is a three bar. As a fetus. Who knows what it will be when it’s born. Or as it grows. Diana’s only, like, four or five months along. I should know exactly, but I forget. When she would talk about it I would kind of, you know.” He made a shivering move, like it all gave him the creeps. Astrid shook her head in disbelief. “Really. That’s the part of all this that makes you squirm: pregnancy.” “She made me touch her, you know, stomach. And she talked about her, um, her things.” He pointed at his chest and whispered, “Nipples.” “Yeah,” Astrid said dryly. “I could see where that would be devastating.”

“Diana frowns. “You’re taking me home, right? You just said you would.” “Hoink hoink! Of course, piglet. But I meant your real home.” “Which, last I checked,” says Diana acidly, “is in Los Angeles, California, United States of America, solar system, planet Earth.” “Hmm,” says the boar, hiccupping dreamily. “That’s what you think, darling. Tell me, can you say you’ve felt really at home at that address? Haven’t you been homesick your whole life?”

“Diana had always hated when people said this about her family. The bosses who made her dad list a payroll company as his employer, they gamed the system. The assholes who convinced her parents to take out both a second mortgage and a HELOC in 2006 gamed the system. The employers who would never give Edith enough hours for benefits gamed the system. But ask a lot of people, and they'd tell you it's people like her grandma who game the system. They'd tell you that an old woman who's worked hard every day of her life and still struggles to get by is a malignant vacuum for their personal tax dollars, and a blight on their lives as free Americans.”

“Diana loosened a sliver of halibut with her fork and slipped it into her mouth. She closed her eyes, tasting the sweetness of the fish; the tart, juicy tomatoes; oil and butter and garlic and thyme. "Good?" asked Reese. His eyes were dark brown behind his glasses, and there was a deep dimple in his left cheek. She chewed and swallowed. "So good." He was still watching her, clearly expecting more. "I don't even like fish, usually. But this- it's so sweet! The tomatoes..." "They're from a farm in Truro. They turn into jam when you reduce them. They're my favorite," he said, voice lowered, like he was telling her a secret, or like he didn't want to hurt the figs' or the bok choy's feelings. "We source as many of our ingredients locally as we can. Our milk and eggs, our butter, our honey- everything we can get from around here, we do.”

“Diana was the goddess of the hunt and of all newborn creatures. Women prayed to her for happiness in marriage and childbirth, but her strength was so great that even the warlike Amazons worshipped her. No man was worthy of her love, until powerful Orion won her affection. She was about to marry him, but her twin brother, Apollo, was angered that she had fallen in love. One day, Apollo saw Orion in the sea with only his head above the water. Apollo tricked Diana by challenging her to hit the mark bobbing in the distant sea. Diana shot her arrow with deadly aim. Later, the waves rolled dead Orion to shore. Lamenting her fatal blunder, Diana placed Orion in the starry sky. Every night, she would lift her torch in the dark to see her beloved. Her light gave comfort to all, and soon she became known as a goddess of the moon. It was whispered that if a girl-childwas born in the wilderness, delivered by the great goddess Diana, she would be known for her fierce protection of the innocent.”

“Diana, would you marry someone for money?" I asked her out of the blue one afternoon during her lunch break. Without missing a beat, she made a contemplative noise. "It depends.How much money?" It was right then I knew I'd called the wrong person. I should have dialed Oscar, my slightly younger brother, instead. He'd always been wise beyond his years. Diana...not so much. I only told her the partial truth. "What if someone bought you a house?" She "hmmed" and then "hmmed" a little more. "A nice house?" "It wouldn't be a mansion, you greedy whore, but I'm not talking about a dump or anything either." I figured at least.”

“DIANA: You never appreciate me, even when I’m being nice! MARY: It was nice of you to defend me like that, Diana. I did appreciate it, you know. I do appreciate it, even now. DIANA: Well, you’re my sister. I mean, you’re annoying, and you have a stick up your—Catherine doesn’t want me to say that word anymore—but you’re still my sister. MRS. POOLE: That may be the most affectionate thing I’ve heard you say, Miss Scamp. DIANA: Go back to your kitchen, you old (unprintable).”

“Diana: "I wish I were rich, and I could spend the whole summer at a hotel, eating ice cream and chicken salad." Anne: "You know something, Diana? We are rich. We have sixteen years to our credit, and we both have wonderful imaginations. We should be as happy as queens." [gestures to the setting sun] Anne Shirley: "Look at that. You couldn't enjoy its loveliness more if you had ropes of diamonds.”

“Diane, soccer mom, age 32. Got addicted to OxyContin after undergoing surgery for complications with her last pregnancy. After her prescription ran out, she'd cheated on her husband with seven different doctors to acquire more pills. Her rock bottom: her 5-year-old son coming home early to find her fellating Doctor Padmanabhan in the kitchen. 69 days sober.”

“Diane Wilson asked, "Why aren't people upset? Why aren't people protesting?" The mayor and county commissioners told her to keep quiet, and everybody else was afraid to speak out against the companies, which included some of the country's biggest chemical companies. There were even attempts on her life. Family members abandoned her, and certainly none of the other shrimpers stood with her.”

“dianemoorewriter.com February 11, 2015 · From Love Thy Neighbor" On journalism and news purists as well as why I pursued print instead of TV journalism/news at the No. 1 journalism school in the country: news reporters are willing to take risks "so that people can base their lives on a foundation of truth not lies. That's why I do it -- to be the one responsible voice in the crowd." Page 105' "Love Thy Neighbor”

“Diante dos seus olhos apareceu então a imagem minúscula e claramente iluminada de Adolf Hitler dirigindo-se ao servis lacaios que deviam constituir o Reichtag por finais dos anos 30. Der Führer estava então com o seu ar sarcástico, jovial e zombeteiro. Aquela cena famosa ― que todos os homens de Yancy conheciam de cor― era aquela em que Hitler respondia ao requerimento que lhe fora feito pelo presidente Roosevelt para que garantisse as fronteiras de uma boa dúzia de minúsculas nações europeias. Uma a uma Hitler enunciava as nações que constituíam tal lista, a voz ia num crescendo ao ler o nome de cada uma, e de cada vez, as marionetes articuladas exultavam com o crescendo de troça do seu líder. A emotividade de tudo aquilo ― der Führer, possesso de um divertimento titânico perante aquela lista tão absurda (mais tarde iria invadir, sistematicamente, quase todas as nações então referidas), os rugidos daqueles loucos… Joseph Adams escutava, observava, sentia ecoarem dentro de si esses berros, sentia um divertimento sarcástico em consonância com o de Hitler ― e ao mesmo tempo sentia um receio pura e simplesmente infantil de que aquela cena tivesse alguma vez ocorrido realmente. O que de fato acontecera. Aquele segmento, do primeiro episódio do documentário A, era ― por estranho que tal pudesse parecer, dada a sua natureza de tal modo demoníaca ― autêntico.”

“Diaries can be best friends of any human being. They are always there. They are patient. They don't judge after you tell them about your fears, insecurities or secrets. Moreover, they don't call you a 'Bitch' or 'Slut' straight in your face. But isn't it a drawback too? No replies! Even when its pages get all wet with your tears, they don't tell you that things will be fine.”

“Diaries tell their little tales with a directness, a candor, conscious or unconscious, a closeness of outlook, which gratifies our sense of security. Reading them is like gazing through a small clear pane of glass. We may not see far and wide, but we see very distinctly that which comes within our field of vision.”