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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I'm happy being a bloke, I think, but sometimes I'm not happy being a bloke in the late-twentieth century. Sometimes I'd rather be my dad. He never had to worry about delivering the goods, because he never knew that there were any goods to deliver; he never had to worry about how he ranked in my mother's all-time hot one hundred, because he was first and last on the list. Wouldn't it be great if you could talk about this sort of thing with your father? One day, maybe, I'll try. "Dad, did you ever have to worry about the female orgasm in either it's clitoral or its (possibly mythical) vaginal form? Do you, in fact, know what the female organism is? What about the G-spot? What did 'good in bed' mean in the 1955, if it meant anything at all? When was oral sex imported to Britain? Do you envy me my sex life, or does it all look like terribly hard work to you?”

“I’m happy to just be able to come across things. I don’t need to be happy. Happiness is a kind of cheap word. Let’s face it, I’m not the kind of cat that’s going to cut off an ear if I can’t do something. I would commit suicide. I would shoot myself in the brain if things got bad. I would jump from a window…you know, I can think about death openly. It’s nothing to fear. It’s nothing sacred. I’ve seen so many people die. Life’s not sacred either”

“I'm hard work, Nick. And I'm OK with that, but you need to be OK with that too because I'm not going to change." Finally, I draw to a breathless stop. "But that's the whole point," he says slowly with a warm smile. "I don't want you to change, Harriet. You're not hard work for me." And that's when I know. As Nick laces his fingers through mine and the golden sun in my chest starts burning so brightly it feels like it's going to explode, I realise that all that time we were focusing on our three stars, the moon had been there too. Coming and going - waxing and waning - but never really leaving. Always there: always shared. Always reflecting love and light back at me. "Acceptance," Lion Boy says, kissing me gently. "Tick.”

“I'm head over heels for her. Someone who's as hardworking as she is stunning, who runs a successful business on her own, which she built from the ground up, no help from anyone. That's rare to find, you know?" The way he narrows his stare at Mindy has her pursing her lips. "Well. That's just great," she practically mutters. "I should get going. Lovely to run into you, Joelle." "Likewise." This time when I'm smiling, it's one thousand percent genuine. She spins around and jogs away, her pace noticeably faster than when she made her way over. "She can't get away from us fast enough," Max says. "I'd call that a win." My head falls back as I laugh. I start to let go of his hand, but he keeps a gentle hold. "Let's sell it for a bit longer. Just in case she turns around and looks back at us." He winks down at me, and I'm sold.”

“I’m heir to the “sex is just sex” generation and I hate it. Not only friends have sex, people who don’t like each other have sex. I’d once caught Natalie and Rick, two people I know for a fact can’t stand each other, banging away in the bathroom at The Brickyard. When later I’d asked her what had changed, she’d said nothing, she still couldn’t stand him, but he’d sure looked hot tonight. Doesn’t anybody get that sex is what you make it, and if you treat it like nothing, it is?”

“I’m helped by a gentle notion from Buddhist psychology, that there are “near enemies” to every great virtue—reactions that come from a place of care in us, and which feel right and good, but which subtly take us down an ineffectual path. Sorrow is a near enemy to compassion and to love. It is borne of sensitivity and feels like empathy. But it can paralyze and turn us back inside with a sense that we can’t possibly make a difference. The wise Buddhist anthropologist and teacher Roshi Joan Halifax calls this a “pathological empathy” of our age. In the face of magnitudes of pain in the world that come to us in pictures immediate and raw, many of us care too much and see no evident place for our care to go. But compassion goes about finding the work that can be done. Love can’t help but stay present”

“I’m her grandmother!’ my mother repeats, now shouting. ‘I have rights. I get a say in how she lives her life!’ That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? Rights. Who has the right to dictate to family, friends and the world about how people should live, how things should work and what life means? Boomers have expressed these rights for decades. And they’ve refused to cede authority and autonomy to the generations that follow. Even the Trailers live in the Boomers’ shadow.”

“I'm here at the earl's behest to talk to a set of clodhoppers about their turnip planting. As soon as that's concluded, I can promise you that I'll return to London with all possible haste." Clodhoppers? Kathleen drew in a sharp breath, thinking of the tenant families and the way they worked and persevered and endured the hardships of farming... all to put food on the table of men such as this, who looked down his nose at them. "The families who live here," she managed to say, "are worthy of your respect. Generations of tenant farmers built this estate- and precious little reward they've received in return. Go into their cottages, and see the conditions in which they live, and contrast it with your own circumstances. And then perhaps you might ask yourself if you're worthy of their respect." "Good God," West muttered, "my brother was right. You do have the temperance of a baited badger." They exchanged glances of mutual loathing and walked away from each other.”

“I’m here because of a letter. Not the kind with hearts and lipstick marks, but the kind that takes your breath away. I wanted it to have that effect on him, and so it was the story of how we fell in love told through our kisses. Both kisses we’d had and kisses I wanted to have, and places I wanted to kiss. Places like Paris and Amsterdam, along the river or by the canal, or Kauai under waterfalls. It was an epic love letter, and it was all I’d ever wanted in my life-to feel that kind of epic love.”

“I’m here for other children. I’m here because I care. I’m here because children everywhere are suffering and because forty thousand people die each day from hunger. I’m here because those people are mostly children. We have got to understand that the poor are all around us and we are ignoring them. We have got to understand that these deaths are preventable. We have got to understand that people in third world countries think and care and smile and cry just like us. We have got to understand that they dream our dreams and we dream theirs. We have got to understand that they are us. We are them. My dream is to stop hunger by the year 2000. My dream is to give the poor a chance. My dream is to save the 40,000 people who die each day. My dream can and will come true if we all look into the future and see the light that shines there. If we ignore hunger, that light will go out. If we all help and work together, it will grow and burn free with the potential of tomorrow.”

“I'm here,' he said. 'We made it.' She trembled harder, as if all that she had experienced and done were now breaking free in aftershocks. 'I'm here,' he said again, and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. 'I'm here.' He kissed below her ear. Her hands came up caressing a line down his back. She stopped shaking. 'I'm here,' he said, kissing the base of her throat.”

“I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.”

“I’m here to bear witness to what used to be here […] I know I must. I was out here before Ultimate Corp ran everything and everyone out into the desert and into the Red Eye. Then they hired many of us nomads to leave our way of life to earn a salary by planting. We were fools. ‘We let them convince us that we had nothing and our lands were useless. If it cannot make money, then it is worthless. That is not our culture, that is capitalism. Yet we still listened. We saw their big cities, we wanted all their nonsense things, we respected their big talk. We learned to prize money over things far more valuable. ‘This led to farmers’ letting Ultimate Corp buy their land. They were convinced they were getting something for nothing, the nothing being the land they’d been told was worthless. There was an element of fear, too. Fear of the big people from big faraway places. Goddamn, it was like rolling over and dying.”

“I'm Here to Destroy You (Sonnet of Naskars) I'm not here to comfort you, I'm here to make you restless. I'm not here to enlighten you, I'm here to destroy you peaceless. When one Naskar dies, a thousand Naskars will rise. The duties of Naskar are too heavy for self-coddling cowards to carry. That's why, I'm here to destroy you, your last ounce of self care and peace. Doing what you need to sustain yourself is one thing, but to obsess over it is cowardice. I got no business with such cowardly insects, who try to hide pettiness with perfectionism. Give me ten messy vessels restless for purpose, I shall give the world 10,000 years of ascension.”

“I’m here to do my best and I’m here to be playful and happy and mainly just to do my best and to follow my heart and to be kind to others. But mainly to be kind to myself because I think the most important thing we can do is to establish a better relationship here inside. When you establish peace, when you establish love, when you establish kindness here [inside], you cannot act any other way to the outside world. And I think that is the purpose anyways for me. And to share that with the world.”

“I'm here to give a tithe," she told the Heartwood. "I give you my voice---and with it, my dreams beyond the woods. I'll be your new Song Mage, if you'll have me." Breathing in sharply, Emeline thought of the cost. She would never again sing her songs beneath the lights. Never walk out on a new stage or record an album she was proud of. She would never get the chance to prove she could make it on her terms. Emeline breathed out, letting it go. It hurt when the woods took her offering. Like hands reaching in and plucking out her soul, severing her from her oldest dream. But when she breathed, something new flooded in. It felt like the night she sang to the elm tree cage, asking the trees to set Hawthorne free. She'd felt the power in her voice flow out of her that night. This time, though, it was the reverse. Power was flowing in. Infusing her marrow and blood. Folding itself into her skin. It was like Grace said: there was magic in sacrifice. Emeline had tithed the most precious thing she owned, and something equally precious was filling in the gaps. It coursed through her---thick as honey, bright as starlight. Pushing like a blazing-hot sun. Humming like a swarm of contented bees. Power. It tasted like sugared sunshine on her tongue.”