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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“It was a mild winter’s evening in ‘Japp’s Saloon and Speakeasy’, in the northwest corner of the only legal red-light area of the city. (The S.O.D.s believed in crime management.) Timaset Skooch leaned back in the aluminum framed chair, checking his cards carefully while wearing his best poker face. Across the table from him sat Jonn Deire, a large man who was trying very hard to out-poker face him and who didn’t enjoy jokes about his name much.”

“It was a mistake to follow my management training in high altitude professional astronomy. I never realized I was disciplining sickened staff that had become forgetful through altitude sickness that included oxygen starvation, adverse environmental exposures, central sleep apnea and mal-acclimatization!”

“It was a mistake to think of houses, old houses, as being empty. They were filled with memories, with the faded echoes of voices. Drops of tears, drops of blood, the ring of laughter, the edge of tempers that had ebbed and flowed between the walls, into the walls, over the years. Wasn't it, after all, a kind of life? And there were houses, he knew it, that breathed. They carried in their wood and stone, their brick and mortar a kind of ego that was nearly, very nearly, human.”

“It was a mistake. You and I are going to be stationed together for the rest of our lives, never able to escape the other. Getting involved- even on a physical level- is a colossal blunder. No point talking about it.' I barely keep from clutching at my chest to see if all my organs are where they're supposed to be, since it feels like he just eviscerated me with four sentences. But he had been just as into it as I was. I was there, and there was no mistaking that kind of... enthusiasm. But maybe it was the churam. 'What if I want to talk about it?' 'Then feel free, but it doesn't mean I have to be a part of the conversation. We're both allowed our boundaries, and this is one of mine.”

“It was a modern folklorist name Adrienne Mayor who first noticed that the Ancient Greek stories of the griffin (which had the body of a lion, head and claws of an eagle, tail of a serpent) perfectly described a Protoceratops. The Greeks believed that the griffin guarded treasures of gold. Mayor discovered that fossilized skulls of Protoceratops were often found in Mongolia, where the Greeks traveled to trade for gold.”

“It was a moment of despair, it was a moment of dream when one chapter ended, so another could begin....It was a moment of darkness, it was a moment of light when the night ended so dawn could show its face...It was the finest of emotions, it was the coarsest of feelings when you released what tormented you yet delighted you at the same time....It was a moment of tearing, it was a moment of meeting when the old self fell into pieces so the new self could reveal its light....”

“It was a moment of despair, it was a moment of dream...when one chapter ended, so another could begin. It was a moment of darkness, it was a moment of light when the night ended so dawn could show its face. It was the finest of emotions, it was the coarsest of feelings when you released what tormented you yet delighted you at the same time. It was the moment of tearing, it was the moment of meeting...when the old self fell into pieces and the new one revealed in light..”

“It was a monumental 'croquembouche,' a classically French, intricately crafted tower of individual profiteroles, each thinly crusted with hard-crack sugar, filled with pastry cream, bound together with luscious, glistening strands of caramel and chocolate into a conical, colorful Christmas-tree shape that rose proudly high over the heads of the delighted newlyweds. 'Chef de Patisserie' Pettibone had covered his 'piece montee' with a lustrous white-chocolate marzipan roses and dusted ever so lightly in twenty-four-karat gold.”

“It was a morning in early summer. A silver haze shimmered and trembled over the lime trees. The air was laden with their fragrance. The temperature was like a caress. I remember - I need not recall - that I climbed up a tree stump and felt suddenly immersed in Itness. I did not call it by that name. I had no need for words. It and I were one.”

“It was a morning of ground mist, yellow sunshine, and high rifts of blue, white-cloud-dappled sky. The leaves were still thick on the trees, but de-spangled gossamer threads hung on the bushes and the shrill little cries of unrest of the swallows skimming the green open park spaces of the park told of autumn and change.”

“It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky.”

“It was a murky confusion — here and there blotted with a color like the color of the smoke from damp fuel — of flying clouds tossed up into most remarkable heaps, suggesting greater heights in the clouds than there were depths below them to the bottom of the deepest hollows in the earth, through which the wild moon seemed to plunge headlong, as if, in a dread disturbance of the laws of nature, she had lost her way and were frightened.”

“It was a music of the spirit, seeking peace, not emotional release, expressing the hunger of the soul rather than the heart. A way of sequencing notes so ancient it might be music's mother lode, its Fertile Crescent. It wouldn't have grated, I felt, on the ears of ancient Greeks or Egyptians or Mesopotamians or Sumerians—or even on the august auditory equipment of the Buddha or Lao-tzu.”