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M Quotes

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“Mrs. Zuppa was coming in from bingo just as I was leaving the building. "Looks like you're going to work," she said, leaning heavily on her cane. "What are you packin'?" "A thirty-eight." "I like a nine-millimeter myself." "A nine's good." "Easier to use a semiautomatic after you've had hip replacement and you walk with a cane," she said. One of those useful pieces of information to file away and resurrect when I turn eighty-three.”

“Ms. Buck, I feel like a corpse this morning. What do you advise?" Belva raised an eyebrow. "You might try putting down the bottle one of these nights." Lee was ready for this. "That might help long term, but I'm looking for something more immediate. As in, right now." Belva sighed. "I'm not sure you deserve it, but I don't like seeing you in pain." She dipped into the cooler and pulled out a vial of a bright green liquid. Lee had only been joking, but she was drawn to the vial now, her mouth watering. She took it from Belva, uncapped it, and shot it back. The taste was of plants picked too young--- sweet, raw, and nearly fizzing with life. She waited for something to happen. Nothing. Belva watched her intently, and Lee wondered at her curiosity. She'd probably given this hangover remedy thousands of times. And then Lee felt it. The smell of wet dust and the hum of the fluorescents and the staleness inside of her receded. In its place, the smell of dewy grass and the silent spill of sunshine and the feeling of a new day beginning spread through her. Like a phoenix, she was resurrected.”

“Ms Dysson is here, sir.” The Admiral stood to greet her. “Good evening, Ms Dysson. Admiral Burton.” Unrecognisable as Mr Brown in his full uniform and with the facial modifiers removed, the Admiral indicated a chair. “Let’s get right to it, shall we? You’ve been on my radar for some time now, so I think we can be frank with one another.”

“Ms. Hamilton is talking to a policeman: Asking about ghouls in a cemetery raiding graves, I said ‘I know that in real life that doesn’t happen,’ and he got the strangest look on his face. And he said, ‘People have teeth too.’ He had been called to cemeteries where people had raided graves and done pretty much what I was writing about, except not as thoroughly. That was the moment I realized that anything I’ll ever come up with on paper has already been done. -- interview in Locus magazine, 2000”

“Ms. Lane.”Barrons’ voice is deep, touched with that strange Old World accent and mildly pissed off. Jericho Barrons is often mildly pissed off. I think he crawled from the swamp that way, chafed either by some condition in it, out of it, or maybe just the general mass incompetence he encountered in both places. He’s the most controlled, capable man I’ve ever known. After all we’ve been through together, he still calls me Ms. Lane, with one exception: When I’m in his bed. Or on the floor, or some other place where I’ve temporarily lost my mind and become convinced I can’t breathe without him inside me this very instant. Then the things he calls me are varied and nobody’s business but mine. I reply: “Barrons,” without inflection. I’ve learned a few things in our time together. Distance is frequently the only intimacy he’ll tolerate. Suits me. I’ve got my own demons. Besides I don’t believe good relationships come from living inside each other’s pockets. I believe divorce comes from that. I admire the animal grace with which he enters the room and moves toward me. He prefers dark colors, the better to slide in and out of the night, or a room, unnoticed except for whatever he’s left behind that you may or may not discover for some time, like, say a tattoo on the back of one’s skull. “What are you doing?” “Reading,” I say nonchalantly, rubbing the tattoo on the back of my skull. I angle the volume so he can’t see the cover. If he sees what I’m reading, he’ll know I’m looking for something. If he realizes how bad it’s gotten, and what I’m thinking about doing, he’ll try to stop me. He circles behind me, looks over my shoulder at the thick vellum of the ancient manuscript. “In the first tongue?” “Is that what it is?” I feign innocence. He knows precisely which cells in my body are innocent and which are thoroughly corrupted. He’s responsible for most of the corrupted ones. One corner of his mouth ticks up and I see the glint of beast behind his eyes, a feral crimson backlight, bloodstaining the whites. It turns me on. Barrons makes me feel violently, electrically sexual and alive. I’d march into hell beside him. But I will not let him march into hell beside me. And there’s no doubt that’s where I’m going. I thought I was strong, a heroine. I thought I was the victor. The enemy got inside my head and tried to seduce me with lies. It’s easy to walk away from lies. Power is another thing. Temptation isn’t a sin that you triumph over once, completely and then you’re free. Temptation slips into bed with you each night and helps you say your prayers. It wakes you in the morning with a friendly cup of coffee, and knows exactly how you take it. He skirts the Chesterfield sofa and stands over me. “Looking for something, Ms. Lane?” I’m eye level with his belt but that’s not where my gaze gets stuck and suddenly my mouth is so dry I can hardly swallow and I know I’m going to want to. I’m Pri-ya for this man. I hate it. I love it. I can’t escape it. I reach for his belt buckle. The manuscript slides from my lap, forgotten. Along with everything else but this moment, this man. “I just found it,” I tell him.”

“Ms. Lorna was so proud. “Well Maddie, I think God’s Spirit has given you a gift. Continue worshipin’ and he’ll give you the rest. I encourage you to read the Psalms. David, a man after God’s own heart, would turn the burdens of his soul into song. He would cry out to the Lord and declare the truth of God’s goodness. This was a form of worship to his King, but also a source of encouragement for his soul. Give it a try and see if this doesn’t help you find the peace you need in the moment you’re strugglin’. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that trustin’ God covers those times when we’re uncertain about the outcome.”

“Ms Rowanberg’s with you? Good, so you got her out? How is she? ” He didn’t realise that his flurry of eager questions were a definite tell, but the Lieutenant pretended not to notice. “Annoyed, sir.” The Lieutenant chuckled. “She was looking forward to taking out her anger on her captors, but I’m afraid we denied her that privilege. The five we got are not answering any calls now.” “Good,” James spat, and under his breath he added, “F*cking bastards.” He thought no one heard him, and he didn’t see the Lieutenant struggling not to grin. So he’s one of us after all, mused the Lieutenant.”

“Ms. Merkel is avoiding retirement issues. She simply doesn't want to do anything, although she knows that doing nothing means that real pensions will fall. That is preprogrammed old-age poverty. When it comes to wage fairness: It was Ms. Merkel herself who blocked the establishment of a right to return to a fulltime job after going part time for a period. Yet everyone keeps saying that our platform is identical to that of the conservatives. It's crazy.”

“Ms. Wormwood: Calvin, can you tell us what Lewis and Clark did? Calvin: No, but I can recite the secret superhero origin of each member of Captain Napalm's Thermonuclear League of Liberty. Ms. Wormwood: See me after class, Calvin. Calvin: [retrospectively] I'm not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.”

“Msamaha ni uamuzi wa makusudi wa kuachilia hisia za chuki au kisasi juu ya mtu au kikundi cha watu ambaye amekuumiza au ambacho kimekuumiza, bila kujali kama anastahili au kinastahili msamaha wako. Wataalamu wanaosoma au kufundisha msamaha huweka bayana ya kuwa, unaposamehe, hutakiwi kusitiri au kukana uzito wa kosa ulilofanyiwa. Msamaha haumaanishi kusahau wala haumaanishi kupuuza, au kujisingizia, makosa ambayo mtu amekufanyia au kikundi cha watu kimekufanyia. Ijapokuwa msamaha unaweza kusaidia kujenga uhusiano ulioharibika, haukulazimishi kupatana na mtu aliyekukosea au kumfanya asiwajibike kisheria kwa makosa aliyokufanyia. Badala yake, msamaha humletea yule anayesamehe amani ya moyo; na humpa uhuru kutokana na hasira aliyokuwa nayo, juu ya yule aliyemkosea.”

“Msamaha si jambo dogo. Watu wadogo, watu wenye uwezo mdogo wa kufikiri, hawawezi kupambana na changamoto za msamaha. Msamaha ni kwa ajili ya watu wenye macho kama ya tai wanaoweza kuona mbali ambao wako tayari kushindwa vita ili washinde vita. Hewa inaingia ndani ya mapafu na kutoka; chakula kinaingia ndani ya mwili na kutoka; mwanamasumbwi anapigana bila kugombana; injini ya gari haiwezi kusukuma gari mbele au nyuma bila kutoa hewa katika paipu ya ekzosi. Lakini kile kinachoingia moyoni mwako hakitoki! Maumivu yanapoingia ndani ya moyo yanapaswa kutoka nje kama yalivyoingia kwa sababu, yasipotoka yatatengeneza sumu ndani ya moyo wako na yatatengeneza sumu ndani ya roho yako pia. Sumu hiyo itahatarisha safari yako ya mbinguni na Mungu hatakusamehe tena. Badala ya yule aliyekukosea kuumia, utaumia wewe uliyekosewa. Yesu anaposema samehe saba mara sabini hatanii. Usiposamehe, hutasamehewa.”

“Msamaha si jambo rahisi. Tunapoumizwa, au watu wetu wa karibu wanapoumizwa, tendo la kusamehe linaweza kuwa gumu kuliko matendo yote. Lakini, tambua kwamba msamaha ni mchakato wa muda mrefu unaohitaji ujasiri mkubwa kuuanza hadi kuukamilisha, ongea na watu wanaoelewa maana ya msamaha ili wakuongoze katika mchakato huo. Vilevile, tambua kwamba hata wewe umewahi kufanya makosa na unahitaji msamaha, tambua kwamba suluhisho kamili linahitaji matendo kutoka kwa aliyekosea na kwa aliyekosewa. Wengine hupendwa kwa sababu wanastahili, lakini wengine wanastahili kwa sababu hupendwa. Mungu anatupenda kwa jinsi tulivyo hata kama tunajiona hatustahili. Hivyo, jithamini.”