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S Quotes

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“She could almost feel each woman's intention through the paper. Ellie Penhaligan, who was so in tune with the earth and the elements that she could disappear into them. Stella Darling, whose suitability was a real no-brainer, especially now that she had opened her own natural healing practice. Stella was the only other person in Avening with formal magic training, and once time had mellowed her, she would be a true mistress of the elements. Nina Bruno, one of the most powerful candidates on her list, a real Charm Sister whose hypnotic personal energy would turn anyone her way. Eve Pruitt, who had no particular powers to speak of, but whose loving and giving energy radiated from her, putting everyone at ease- people magic. Maggie Moreau, who passed so effortlessly between worlds, and she hadn't even hit puberty yet. Her mother Mave- who would have thought Mave would have been interested? But she'd applied all on her own, and sure enough, Autumn had been forced to recognize her great untapped potential. Ana Beckwith, whom Autumn loved like a daughter born of her own womb, and who, whether she realized it or not, had already begun to tap into her ability to move through time. Ginny Emmerling, the lonely warrior who wanted to fight for a new piece of herself. Dottie Davis, the only applicant to understand the Book as a vehicle of spirituality. Charlie Solomon, that budding psychic reporter whom Autumn had all but coerced into settling down in Avening. Sylvie Shigeru, who was only just eighteen and had already made peace with her magic, and done so much to harness it. And last, her sister, Siobhan, who would be a prophet the likes of whom Autumn hadn't seen in many generations. Age wasn't a concern; Maggie and Siobhan wouldn't initiate for another ten years at least, and as for the older women, Dottie and Eve, initiation would change them the way it had changed Autumn so many centuries ago.”

“She could always walk somewhere without him. Of course this somewhere had to be somewhere "safe." She could walk to her office. But she didn't want to go to her office. She felt bored, ignored, and alienated in her office. She felt ridiculous there. She didn't belong there anymore. In all the expansive grandeur that was Harvard, there wasn't room there for a cognitive psychology professor with a broken cognitive psyche.”

“She could ask for anything, she thought dizzily, anything--an end to pain or world hunger or disease, or for peace on earth. But then again, perhaps these things weren't in the power of angels to grant, or they would already have been granted. And perhaps people were supposed to find these things for themselves.”

“She could, at this stage of things, recognize signals like that, as the epileptic is said to—an odor, color, pure piercing grace note announcing his seizure. Afterward it is only this signal, really dross, this secular announcement, and never what is revealed during the attack, that he remembers. Oedipa wondered whether, at the end of this (if it were supposed to end), she too might not be left with only compiled memories of clues, announcements, intimations, but never the central truth itself, which must somehow each time be too bright for her memory to hold; which must always blaze out, destroying its own message irreversibly, leaving an overexposed blank when the ordinary world came back.”

“She could envision Jesus out on the stormy waves calling her to join him, and not be distracted by the laws of nature. She’d just need to keep her focus on the Savior and move forward in these tossing waves. To keep focusing on the watery sprays trying to sink her would be her undoing. As her father understood and often repeated, she now saw the storm warning. “You win some, you lose some.” Could Jesus defy natural consequences-gravity?”

“She could envision Jesus out on the stormy waves calling her to join him, and not to depend on the laws of nature. She’d just need to keep her focus on the Savior and move forward in these tossing waves. To keep looking down on the watery sprays trying to sink her would be her undoing. As her father understood and often repeated, she now saw the storm warning. “You win some, you lose some.” Could Jesus defy natural endings?”

“She could feel his breath on her neck, the heat of him. Her legs were stuck to the floor. The dress hung on her, open. She turned around slowly. It was like losing her free will again, only this time, instead of not being able to feel anything, she could feel it all - too much - not enough - she wanted more. His hands were painful flames on her skin; his lips were longing; his eyes were the place you go before sleep - smoke and dreams and escape. 'Attis,' she exhaled and he lowered himself towards her. The kiss was slow and sweet and agonizing, like one of his magical symbols, turning her molten in his arms; beneath, a fire roared, a heat Anna had never known, a heat that only grew against the impossible softness of his lips. She grabbed at the collar of his shirt as his hands pressed against her back. She wanted to sink into him forever, for every last knot inside of her to come undone. She felt her dress fall of her shoulders...”

“She could feel these hands tremble, and she could feel Mr. Kidder’s excitement. How eager she was to be gone from this room. Her heart was beating in mild revulsion from the man’s touch, but Katya forced herself to remain still, politely unresisting. In Mr. Kidder’s eyes, which brimmed with moisture, Katya saw such tenderness for her, such desire, or love, she felt that her throat might close, she might begin to cry. Gravely Mr. Kidder lowered his face to hers. Katya held her breath, but he just brushed his lips against her forehead and did not try to kiss her on the mouth.”

“She could gather information that may refute the claims that were structured by logical fallacies and replace them with sufficient empirical evidence! After weeks of persisting in accumulating more data points, and weeks more in reading each response, Sapienas found a consensus within all the responses for each race, discovering that these responses contradicted all the logical fallacy-based claims about every race.”

“She could hardly believe that this truculent stranger was her brother. "Nick," she said, testing his name on her tongue. "Why did you give me those presents? It nearly drove me mad, wondering who had sent them. And I was terrified that Sir Ross would think I was carrying on with a secret lover." "Sorry," he muttered, flashing her a contrite smile. "I wanted to be a- a benefactor. To give you the things you deserve. I never meant for us to meet. But the need to see you became so strong that I couldn't bear it any longer." "And that is why you approached me at Silverhill Park?" He gave her the smile of a naughty schoolboy.”

“She could have been there all along, he felt, but for some unknown, unarticulated reason, she had never lifted a finger to put her poems into circulation. It was the thing that had baffled him most about her, for in all other ways Anna was a person who stood up for herself and fought hard for what she believed in, and she knew damned well that her poems were good. Doubts, yes, despairing moments, yes, but what writer or artist doesn’t live in that shifting territory between confidence and self-contempt? The proof was in the fact that she had always shared her poems with him, not because he ever asked her but because she wanted to, either reading them out loud or handing him small sheafs of six or seven at once, and again and again he had responded to her new work by saying it was time to get off her ass and start publishing them, which was invariably followed by a diffident shrug from Anna, who sometimes added “You’re right” or “One of these days” or “We’ll see”, depending on her mood.”

“She could have dropped you both off. whar's the worst she can do? cry hysterically?"the gears on the ute get stuck at the lights and will pushes tom's hand out of the way and and shoves it into the correct gear."it wasn't her" he mutters after a moment."sorry?" tom says."she didn't cry""then what?"it's too quiet except for the quiet for the crap engine sounding like a lawn mower."i cried"luca bursts out laughing beside will."yeah, well i did" will says. "And it's not the thing you want to do in front of a bunch on engineers.”

“She could have rambled with all the fervor of a woman who had loved one entity for longer than most races live, and with the inviolable, unquestioned certainty found in dementia. There were references dated and sealed with meticulous care which she would have enthusiastically opened with the mirth of one proclaiming a lifetime of honors and awards. But that singular event was freshly disturbed; its pores still drifted on the faint zephyr of remembrance.”

“She could have shot herself, scratched herself, or indulged in other forms of self mutilation, but she chose what she probably felt was the weakest option-to at least endure the discomfort of the weather." "The minutes were cruel. Hours were punishing. Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn't hesitate to wring him out. It smiled and squeezed and let him live. What great malice there could be in allowing someone to live." "And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, i tire me. When I start thinking like that, I become so exhausted, and I don't have the luxury of indulging fatigue. I am compelled to continue on, because although it's not true for every person on earth, it's true for the vast majority-that death waits for no man-and if he does, he doesn't usually wait very long." "Please believe me when I say I picked up each soul that day as if it were newly born. I even kissed a few weary, poisoned cheeks. I listened to their last, gasping cries. Their vanishing words. I watched their love visions and freed them from their fear.”