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N Quotes

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All N Quotes

“No. The Book of Regrets is getting lighter. There's a lot of white space in there now...It seems that you have spent all your life saying things that you aren't really thinking. This is one of your barriers.' 'Barriers?' 'Yes. You have a lot of them. They stop you from seeing the truth.' 'About what?' 'About yourself. And you really need to start trying. To see the truth. Because this matters.”

“No theory changes what it is a theory about. Nothing is changed because we look at it, talk about it, or analyze it in a new way. Keats drank confusion to Newton for analyzing the rainbow, but the rainbow remained as beautiful as ever and became for many even more beautiful. Man has not changed because we look at him, talk about him, and analyze him scientifically. ... What does change is our chance of doing something about the subject of a theory. Newton's analysis of the light in a rainbow was a step in the direction of the laser.”

“No theory ever agrees with all the facts in its domain, yet it is not always the theory that is to blame. Facts are constituted by older ideologies, and a clash between facts and theories may be proof of progress. It is also a first step in our attempt to find the principles implicit in familiar observational notions.”

“No theory ever benefited by the application of data, Amy. Data kills theories. A theory has no better time than when it's lying there naked, pure, unsullied by facts. Let's just keep it that way for a while." "So you don't really have a theory?" "Clueless." "You lying bag of fish heads." "I can fire you, you know. Even if Clay was the one that hired you, I'm not totally superfluous to this operation yet. I'm kind of in charge. I can fire you. Then how will you live?" "I'm not getting paid." "See, right there. Perfectly good concept ruined by the application of fact.”

“No theory of government was ever given a fairer test or a more prolonged experiment in a democratic country than democratic socialism received in Britain. Yet it was a miserable failure in every respect... To cure the British disease with socialism was like trying to cure leukemia with leeches.”

“No, there was nothing more to be done. They had tried not to go over the precipice, but perhaps the fall was inevitable. And it comforted her to think that the future was certainly inevitable; cause and effect would go jangling forward to some goal doubtless, but to none that she could imagine. At such moments the soul retires within, to float upon the bosom of a deeper stream, and has communion with the dead, and sees the world’s glory not diminished, but different in kind to what she has supposed. She alters her focus until trivial things are blurred. Margaret had been tending this way all the winter. Leonard’s death brought her to the goal. Alas! that Henry should fade away as reality emerged, and only her love for him should remain clear, stamped with his image like the cameos we rescue out of dreams.”

“No, these individuals have had their fill. They depleted the resources of communication amongst themselves. It no longer offered excitation. They wanted a tryst, a midnight rendezvous, to be tongue-tied for an evening, not having to worry about puritanical appearances, acceptable behavior, placing place settings and feeding their children with cherubic faces. Trading paradisiacal palisades of their guarded community, the spiritless suburbia for subterranean devilry. These were philistines, not patrons of the arts. They merely wanted escapism. A stranger to fill their heads. A morally corrupt stand-up comic delivering the goods: immorality, immodesty, and obscenity. Food for thought, nutritive to their stale lives. Perhaps something they could even discuss behind locked doors, back in the privacy of their safe, secure homes.”

“No, this is what I'll remember for the rest of my life. The first sight of Delilah's breasts. I've dreamed about them for far too long. My first wet dreams were about them, how they might look, feel, taste. I knew nothing. She is full and ripe, the skin paler here, delicately capped with dusky-honey tips. It gets me so hot I'm shaking. My hand cups their soft, plump weight, and she shivers too. I want to say something like "Finally" or "What took us so long?" but all that comes out is the most important thing. "You're beautiful." Her lids flutter, her breath hitching when I rub the tips of my thumbs over her silky nipples. Those sweet buds tighten, and it's all I can do not to swoop down and suck them hard. As it is, I tweak them, and she keens. The sound goes straight to my dick. "Get in my bed, Delilah. And get comfortable, because you aren't leaving it anytime soon.”