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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“Is that a microscope?” I ask, looking at the array of glass slides, tweezers, and eye droppers next to what is definitely a microscope. “Please tell me you’re not playing doctor in the living room.” “We’re playing scientist, dummy,” Joey says. “I’m showing him what different stuff looks like under magnification.” “I looked at a dust mite,” Joey says. “I am not okay.”

“Is that a smile?' He leaned over, eyeing me far too intently to be serious. 'It is. You've greeted me with three of them now. Be still my heart.' Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. 'It must not take much to still your heart.' 'Apparently, it takes a mortal Princess,' he said. 'One who roams haunted woods in the dead of night and swims gloriously naked in a lake.”

“Is that all, sir? Only we've got stuff to finish before our knocking-off time, you see, and if we stay late we have to make more money to pay our overtime, and if the lads is a bit tired we ends up earning the money faster'n we can make it, which leads to a bit of what I can only call a conundrum—" "You mean that if you do overtime you have to do more overtime to pay for it?" said Moist, still pondering how illogical logical thinking can be if a big enough committee is doing it. "That's right, sir," said Shady. "And down that road madness lies." "It's a very short road," said Moist, nodding.”

“Is that all you want?” At that, he reaches for me, and pulls me toward him so that we’re standing face to face. “Well, I want you, but I didn’t think I had to say that,” he says. “In whatever capacity I can have you, for however long you want me, I’m yours.” I smile, rolling onto the balls of my feet to kiss him softly. “Yana Crebesti,” I murmur against his lips. “No matter what comes.”

“Is that an orchid?" I asked, pointing to a particularly unattractive small brown plant. "Maxillaria tenuifolia," said Sonali. "One of my favorites. This little brown orchid is a species. Not as spectacular as a hybrid, but very satisfying nonetheless. Its charms are quite powerful. Come closer and smell it." I leaned over the ugly brown plant. "Coconut pie! How is that possible?" "Wonderful, isn't it? She doesn't need bright, flashy colors or spectacular sprays of flowers. Her pollinators, the moths, come out at night. She uses her coconut scent to guide and entice the little moth in much the way we use perfume to entice men in nightclubs and cafés." Sonali winked at me. "You can learn much about how an orchid is pollinated by the way it looks. White, pink, and pale-green flowers usually get pollinated at night, since those colors are easily seen under moonlight. The little moth sneaks up on the flower in the middle of the night like a lover. He lands on her, pollinates her, and then leaves. We've all had that experience, yes?" "Yes," I said, thinking of Exley. "Brightly colored orchids, on the other hand, are pollinated by butterflies and birds. Butterflies prefer red and orange. Bees love orange and yellow all the way through to ultraviolet." "Just like certain men like certain color clothing," I said. "Yes, colored petals are the clothing of flowers. The insect must find a way through those petals to get what he wants, like a man brushing his hand through the layers of a woman's skirt.”

“Is that content for the present, past and future? Consider strategizing your content creation to deliver a resonating endurance impact for the present, future and past. Allow your present content to compound and continue to help what has been created in the past and what is coming in the future. And stop creating linear content made for a moment that will only last for that moment. This type of connection in your content may create more connections for you.”

“Is that hell? Will they be there forever? Yes, it is hell. We call it The Cleansing here. Any of them can leave The Cleansing at any time, they just need to turn to The Great-Eternal, and they can leave. The purpose is to purge them of sin, evil, and darkness, so they will be worthy of a RY-VER of light. They would not purge it from themselves through self-discipline in their MIDI-life, so they do it now through their suffering.”

“Is that him?” said Sister Mary, staring at the baby. “Only I’d expected funny eyes. Red, or green. Or teensy-weensy little hoofikins. Or a widdle tail.” She turned him around as she spoke. No horns either. The Devil’s child looked ominously normal. “Yes, that’s him,” said Crowley. “Fancy me holding the Antichrist,” said Sister Mary. “And bathing the Antichrist. And counting his little toesy-wosies…”