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O Quotes

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All O Quotes

“Okay then. That's what I'll do. I'll tell you a story. Can you hear them? All these people who lived in terror of you and your judgment. All these people whose ancestors devoted themselves, sacrificed themselves to you. Can you hear them singing? Oh you like to think you're a god. But you're not a god. You're just a parasite. Eaten with jealousy and envy and longing for the lives of others. You feed on them. On the memory of love and loss and birth and death and joy and sorrow, so... so come on then. Take mine. Take my memories. But I hope you're got a big a big appetite. Because I've lived a long life. And I've seen a few things. I walked away from the last great Time War. I marked the passing of the Time Lords. I saw the birth of the universe and watched as time ran out, moment by moment, until nothing remained. No time, no space. Just me! I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a madman! And I watched universes freeze and creation burn! I have seen things you wouldn't believe! I have lost things you will never understand! And I know things, secrets that must never be told, knowledge that must never be spoken! Knowledge that will make parasite gods blaze! So come on then! Take it! Take it all, baby! Have it! You have it all!”

“Okay. This guy came to the bar and flirted with you, then he pummels some guy for hitting you.” Doug counts off each attribute on his fingers. “Then he chases after you to make sure you’re okay. But you blow him off because he’s a cop.” Doug shook his head. “I’m sorry, but what exactly is the problem?” Furi’s head was spinning at his screwed-up emotions. “I told you how Patrick started hitting me after I gave him what he asked for in bed. Whenever we’d fuck a certain way, he’d love it, but would always freak out later. I can see the same shit in Syn. As soon as men like that fuck, they lose their shit and immediately feel like they have to reclaim their lost manhood, on my face. Mark my words. Syn would snap just like Pat did.” “How the hell do you know that?” “Call it my gay man’s intuition.”

“Okay. This was good. This was heading somewhere I’d— “I want to strangle you,” she said, her voice hoarse. All right, that wasn’t good. Not at all. “You have no idea how badly I want to kick you right now,” she added. And that was worse. This wasn’t— “I love you,” she said, and she swallowed. “I’ve loved you since you pushed me down on the playground. I swear— I’ve loved you since then.”

“Okay, three lessons for all of us: One, if you're an old girl, don't go into a new sport or training activity at full bore. Let your muscles get used to it, even if you're in decent shape. Two, do some cross-training as a regular part of your routine, so you'll have some range and flexibility. Three, when you pop that kedging anchor into the ocean, let go before it hits the water or it will pull you to the bottom.”

“Okay, time to get serious. I let my smile fade slowly and lowered my pitch, as no human woman could have. “I’m not joking this time. If I see it, it’s mine, and you won’t get it back at the end of the school year.” I growled, deep and long, savoring the feel of the vibrations in my throat, as if the sound alone could save me. It wasn’t quite a cat’s growl but it was damn close. And it was his last warning. Miguel dismissed my threat with an easy smile, and my stomach clenched. Oh, yeah, Faythe. You have Puss shaking in his boots, all right.”

“Okay, well, if we were to be created in a video game, as Martin pointed out, and there is a creator who has created us and has full control over us because we are merely holograms or animations, then giving credence to this anti-reality would actually be illogical,” I asserted. “As I mentioned earlier, I had to agree with Rene Descartes and the phrase ‘I think. Therefore, I am.’ We have the ability to think, and if we were holograms in the deterministic anti-reality, then we shouldn’t be able to feel, reason, acquire consciousness, or interpret sensory experience, but we do. Living in a deterministic anti-reality like a video game would make us have no control over how we think, but we do have control over how we think, not the creator, so we are not holograms or animations that are controlled by someone, because we have control over our thoughts.” “But what if the creator controls our thoughts?” Martin asked. “That is more proof that we are not living in a deterministic anti-reality. It really reminds me of how Rene Descartes devised the phrase ‘I think. Therefore, I am.’ He reasoned that if there was a devil who came to cause him to THINK that he exists even when he does not, then for him to be able to think that he exists, he has to henceforth exist. Likewise, if our thoughts were to be controlled by a creator, then that would mean we would exist, because for our thoughts to be controlled, we would have to have the ability to think, but since we think, we would have to have had some kind of control over our thoughts at some point of our lives. Once again, a deterministic anti-reality is where we have no control over ourselves, because we are non-real beings created by someone who lives in reality, but since there is no creator who has full control over our thoughts, then we don’t live in a deterministic anti-reality. The closest thing to our thoughts being ‘controlled’ is a change of opinion, like what might happen after being persuaded, but because we have control over our thoughts while we are thinking, our thoughts are not being controlled; WE are just changing them based on our own freewills.”

“Okay, what in Hades just happened? Stones don’t glow blue or any other color and they certainly don’t burn circles on you.” The stone wasn’t talking. Alexandra considered herself well grounded, yet here she stood, talking to a stone that glowed, burned circles, and refused to answer. A thread of sensation pricked at the edges of her mind, then grew stronger. It mirrored an idea then became clear. Tell no one. What? Looking from side to side, she backed against the wall. Although it felt like someone whispered in her ear, she stood there alone. The day’s trauma must have pushed her over the edge, yet the sensation persisted. Tell no one. She froze. Her eyes darted around the room. The muscles in her legs tightened as she prepared to bolt from the room. Alexandra swallowed and licked her lips. “Who would believe me anyway?” she whispered.”

“Okay, write that down," Hermoine said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, "and then copy out this conclusion that I've written for you." "Hermoine, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met," said Ron weakly, "and if I'm ever rude to you again --" "-- I'll know you're back to normal," said Hermoine.”

“Okay, you know, is it weird to get so depressed watching a children’s Christmas special— Oh, wait, I shouldn’t say that. I mean, that’s not a good word. It’s not just “sadness,” the way one feels sad at a film or a funeral. It’s more of a plummeting quality. Or the way, you know, the way that light gets in winter just before dusk, or the way she is with me. All right, at the height of lovemaking, you know, the very height, when she’s starting to climax, and she’s really responding to you now, you know, her eyes widening in that way that’s both, you know, surprise and recognition, which not a woman alive could fake or feign if you really look intently at her, really see her. And I don’t know, this moment has this piercing sadness to it, of the loss of her in her eyes. And as her eyes, you know, widen to their widest point and as she begins to climax and arch her back, they close. You know, shut, the eyes do. And I can tell that she’s closed her eyes to shut me out. You know, I become like an intruder. And behind those closed lids, you know, her eyes are now rolled all the way around and staring intently inward into some void where l, who sent them, can’t follow.”