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All I Quotes

“I don't trust my own answers anymore. I'm too twisted up with rage, too hooked in the millennium. But I find myself combing the past these days, dreaming dreams without sleep, puzzling over any guys, the gay and the straight and the inbetween. Somewhere in there is a horror of love, and to try to kill the beast in them, they take it out on us. Which is not to say I don't chastise myself for halving the world into us and tbem. I know that the good guys aren't all gay, or the bad all straight. That is what I am sifting for, to know what a man is finally, no matter the tribe or gender.”

“I don't understand,' Gamache said finally, bringing his eyes back to Myrna. 'Can you explain?' Myrna nodded. 'Pity and compassion are the easiest to understand. Compassion involves empathy. You see the stricken person as an equal. Pity doesn't. If you pity someone you feel superior.' 'But it's hard to tell one from the other,' Gamache nodded. 'Exactly. Even for the person feeling it. Almost everyone would claim to be full of compassion. It's one of the noble emotions. But really, it's pity they feel.' 'So pity is the near enemy of compassion,' said Gamache slowly, mulling it over. 'That's right. It looks like compassion, acts like compassion, but is actually the opposite of it. And as long as pity's in place there's not room for compassion. It destroys, squeezes out, the nobler emotion.' 'Because we fool ourselves into believing we're feeling one, when we're actually feeling the other.' 'Fool ourselves, and fool others,' said Myrna. 'And love and attachment?' asked Gamache. 'Mothers and children are classic examples. Some mothers see their job as preparing their kids to live in the big old world. To be independent, to marry and have children of their own. To live wherever they choose and do what makes them happy. That's love. Others, and we all see them, cling to their children. Move to the same city, the same neighborhood. Live through them. Stifle them. Manipulate, use guilt-trips, cripple them.' 'Cripple them? How?' 'By not teaching them to be independent.' 'But it's not just mothers and children,' said Gamache. 'No. It's friendships, marriages. Any intimate relationship. Love wants the best for others. Attachment takes hostages.' Gamache nodded. He'd seen his share of those. Hostages weren't allowed to escape, and when they tried tragedy followed.”

“I don’t understand hospital chaplains that try to rob my patients of their anger. Sometimes anger is a key motivator that gets people to take action. Anger can push a cancer patient to jump out of his hospital bed, walk down to the nurses station and scream, “I am getting the hell out of here!”. There is a misconception that God is simply sweet and passive. Actually, God can be quite cunning, manipulative and relentless with his children. What we consider as negative traits are actually helpful in molding us. He will use a negative emotion if needed to push people to do things that will change them for the better. He will allow people or situations to derail us if there is a chance that those interactions will push us forward. Personally, I don’t want a God that is going to send some church member to my deathbed with a plate of cookies and tell me to have faith. Actually, I rather have a God that screams, “Get the hell off your ass, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Walk down the hall with that Physical Therapist so you can get on with your life!" A little anger in a person can push them to do amazing things.”

“I don’t understand how some people take pride in being rude. It’s like they think harsh words or cold behavior make them look strong and unbreakable, but in reality, it shows how small their heart are. You know, softness doesn’t make a person weak; it shows strength. Being rude might get attention for a moment, but it leaves emptiness behind. I have realized that respect and gentle words build bridges, while rudeness only burns them.”

“I don't understand how you can live with an open heart. Everyone hurts you. Why don't you protect yourself better? Put up walls? "What if the thing your heart needs most is right on the side of that wall? I know it's dangerous to expose yourself to everything the world wants to throw at it, to everyone who wants to take something for themselves. But I still leave it open, just in case something beautiful comes in.”

“I don't understand humans." Caradoc shook his head. "It takes their brightest minds decades to plan an unmanned voyage to the nearest planet, which can take a year to travel each way. Yet they expect there to be aliens travelling distances it takes light decades to reach us, just for a weekend of bum fun with a total stranger without asking their permission, before dropping them off where they found them. They're just dying to believe the weirdest, least plausible things possible.”

“I don’t understand,” in a quavering, half-broken voice, a voice that devastates Tatiana; it’s the desperate, despairing I DON’T UNDERSTAND of someone who understands all too well, in fact, and what they understand is this; no one is safe; no one is protected from the attack which comes just like that, without warning, pitiless, merciless; and you are absolutely alone when the suffering begins”

“I don't understand it all,' said Thomas [to Nathan]. 'I've wondered all my life what I owe to love. There was a time I felt that because I loved a man, he was in my debt--that he'd made me love him, and so he owed me his love in return. And now he is dead, and I can never receive even a part of what I gave! But the world turned and I came to believe that all we owe to love is humility and gratitude that we were ever loved at all. You think it's humble to say it cannot be real--that she's [Grace's] mistaken, since you're not free. But that's a kind of pride. Real humility is submitting with wonder and gratitude to being loved--real wisdom is submitting with wonder and gratitude to being loved--real wisdom is understanding how amazing it is, how improbable and really absurd, that she was summoned out of nothing, as we all were, and happens to breathe this air when you breathe it, and see this world when you see it, and that out of all the billions of fellow travelers it is your word she waits for as she sits alone in her room! Well: that's a responsibility and probably a terrible one, and I can't help you with it. You must work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, and let me work out mine.”

“I don't understand," Olivia said. "How did Penny sewing and unsewing make for the Trojan War?" "Penelope was Odysseus's wife," Philippa explained. "He left her, and she sat at her loom, sewing all day, and unraveling all her work at night. For years." "Why on earth would someone do that?" Olivia wrinkled her nose, selecting a sweet from a nearby tray. "Years? Really?" "She was waiting for him to come home," Penelope said, meeting Michael's gaze. There was something meaningful there, and he thought she might be speaking of more than the Greek myth. Did she wait for him at night? She'd told him not to touch her... she'd pushed him away... but tonight, if he went to her, would she accept him? Would she follow the path of her namesake? "I hope you have more exciting things to do when you are waiting for Michael to come home, Penny," Olivia teased. Penelope smiled, but there was something in her gaze that he did not like, something akin to sadness. He blamed himself for it. Before him, she was happier. Before him, she smiled and laughed and played games with her sisters without reminder of her unfortunate fate. He stood to meet her as she approached the settee. "I would never leave my Penelope for years." He said, "I would be too afraid that someone would snatch her away." His mother-in-law sighed audibly from across the room as his new sisters laughed. He lifted one of Penelope's hands in his and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. "Penelope and Odysseus were never my favored mythic couple, anyway. I was always more partial to Persephone and Hades." Penelope smiled at him, and the room was suddenly much much warmer. "You think they were a happier couple?" she asked, wry. He met her little smile, enjoying himself as he lowered his voice. "I think six months of feast is better than twenty years of famine." She blushed, and he resisted the urge to kiss her there, in the drawing room, hang propriety and ladies' delicate sensibilities.”

“I don’t understand,” Oraeyn whispered hoarsely. “It is not for us to understand,” Ina replied, her face clearing as she listened to Kaitryn. “It is for us to travel to the very edge of the light we are given.” “And then?” Oraeyn asked. A radiant smile beamed across Kaitryn’s face. “And then we jump with swords drawn, a battlecry on our lips, and we beat back the darkness.”

“I don’t understand,’ said the boy. ‘I thought aesthetic decisions could be completely immoral. What about the cliché of the artist who leaves his wife and children so he can paint? Or Nero playing the harp while Rome burned?’ ‘Both were moral decisions. Both served a higher good, in the mind of the artist. The conflict lies between the morals of the artist and the morals of society, not between aesthetics and morality. But often this isn’t understood; and here comes the waste, the tragedy. An artist, stealing paints from a store, for example, imagines himself to have made an inevitable but immoral decision, and then he sees himself as fallen from grace; what follows is despair and petty irresponsibility, as if morality were a great glass world which can be utterly shattered by one act. But this was not my great concern then. I did not know these things then. I believed I killed animals for aesthetic reasons only, and I hedged against the great moral question of whether or not by my very nature I was damned.”

“I don’t understand someone like you! You let people create rumors about you! Yes, they set you up, but do you know who gave them the power to do that? You! And your silence! I don’t know who taught you this, but suffering in silence is no way to live, Amelia! How can anyone help you if they don’t even know something is wrong?”

“I don’t understand suicide,” Neil said. “Staying alive has always been so important I can’t imagine actively trying to die.” “He wasn’t,” Andrew said, like Neil was being stupid. […] “He wanted a way out for a little while, a few hours where he didn’t have to think or feel. Problem was he picked an out that’s easy to die on. That’s his fault.”

“I don't understand this irony - valuable things like cars, gold, diamond are made up of hard materials but most valuable things like money, contracts and books are made up of soft paper.”

“I don’t understand what makes them come out like that!”“Hunger,” said Jem. “Were you thinking about blood?”“No.”“Were you thinking about eating me?” Will inquired.“No!"“No one would blame you,” said Jem. “He’s very annoying.”

“I don't understand why liberals can't see that Democrats, Komunists, Kleptocrats, Autocrats, and Plutocrats are all the same: They all use the poor to get rich and to get in, gain money, and gain power. The sad part is that poor people are poorly educated by their education system, which is funded by them. That's why they can't see why they are poor. Liberals think Democrats are for them, but they fail to see that their education system is not about school choice! This is why I stop voting for Democrats because I think people should have school choices, and that's why I support gun rights because I don't trust them to come and save us!”