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S Quotes

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All S Quotes

“So, I'm just joining a group I know nothing about?” Abby asked. “Yep! All you need to know is how to use a gun or a knife, unless you know how to already.” he said, and looked down at her gun clipped on her belt. She followed his look. “Umm yes, I know how to use both but why?” she asked “Like I said, not important, but what is important is, 'Will you join the society?”

“So I'm not crazy after all! I thought it looked good myself once I cut it all off. Not one guy likes it, though. They all tell me I look like a first grader or a concentration camp survivor. What's this thing that guys have for girls with long hair? Fascists, the whole bunch of them! Why do guys all think girls with long hair are the classiest, the sweetest, the most feminine? I mean, I myself know at least two hundred and fifty unclassy girls with long hair. Really.”

“So I'm only ten, she thought to herself. And then she imagined her future self, a middle-school Vera, a high-school Vera, a college Vera, a girlfriend Vera, a woman-in-STEM Vera, a mommy Vera, all looking back at this ten-year-old present-day, present-second Vera with all the pity and wonder and faith that older people needed to just get through the rest of their lives.”

“So I'm over there in England, you know, trying to get news about the [L.A.] riots... and all these Brit people are trying to sympathize with me... 'Oh Bill, crime is horrible. Bill, if it's any consolation crime is horrible here, too.' ...Shutup. This is Hobbitown and I am Bilbo Hicks, Okay? This is a land of fairies and elves. You do not have crime like we have crime, but I appreciate you trying to be, you know, Diplomatic. You gotta see English crime. It's hilarious, you don't know if you're reading the front page or the comic section over there. I swear to God. I read an article - front page of the paper - one day, in England: 'Yesterday, some Hooligans knocked over a dustbin in Shafsbry.' Wooooo... 'The hooligans are loose! The hooligans are loose! What if they become roughians? I would hate to be a dustbin in Shafsbry tonight.”

“So I'm sitting in that damn chair, ready to die, and I say to her, 'You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I'm so damn glad you're going to kill me instead of some brainless, toothless druggie." Beckett smiled again at the memory of his almost-murder. "Then she traded the knife for her lips, and now she works for me." Beckett put his hands behind his head and flexed his giant biceps. "She won't tell me who hired her to come here. She's the deadliest person I've ever encountered. I still think she might kill me, but I can't stop looking at her.”

“So I’m there, surrounded by all these young and old girls who are obviously in season and I don’t know what to do.” The trained psychologist cleared his throat, his brows raised. “Girls… in season?” he questioned dubiously. “Yeah… and they’re all backing up to me and I just know that if I let them fall pregnant the boss’ll kill me, but I’m stuck.” “Umm… what exactly are we talking about?” “My dream: me holding the teaser and all the clients’ expensive mares-” “Oh! So these are horses. Tell me, what’s a teaser?”

“So I'm to live here forever, in ignorance of the true scope of what's happening? If you don't want me to understand what's going on... would you rather...' I swallowed hard. 'Rather I found someplace else to live? Where I'm not a distraction?' 'Didn't Calanmai teach you anything?' 'Only that magic makes you into a brute.' He laughed, though not entirely with amusement. When I remained silent, he sighed. 'No, I don't want you to live somewhere else. I want you here, where I can look after you- where I can come home and know you're here, painting and safe.' I couldn't look away from him.”

“So I made an outline. Well, you know, days are going by, and I am not writing anything because this thing is laid out in front of me. It's as if you get every brochure for a trip you are going to go on and you get the minutest details of every step along the way. Well, I really doubt you're going to then get in the car and go. You know, it's like, why bother if it's all laid out in front of you?”

“So I make no effort to hide my pain. I don’t ever put it all on display like this—but for today and all the rest of the days of the trial, I must. My every flinch, every flicker of pain, will be magnified a hundred times over, then dissected by the pundits and talking heads. But I’m told it’s necessary; the world needs to see me vulnerable and wounded. I cannot appear not to care or to lack remorse, but that removes a crucial component of my self- defense mechanism and leaves me bleeding for all the world to see. I suppose that’s rather the point.”

“So I march into this pizzeria, and smell hot cheese and basil and oregano and garlic and onions and maybe pepperoni in the air, and notice some youngsters and loud cowboys eating pizzas and drinking beer at wooden tables, and start studying all the scrumptious pies in the display case in front of the big oven. There's one with sausage and mushrooms and three cheeses, and one with bacon and charred peppers and black olives and shrimp, and another with tiny meatballs and broccoli and whole garlic cloves, and one called the Super Deluxe, with everything but the kitchen stove.”

“So, I ordered that 2nd diagnosis for another ridiculously high amount of money and unfortunately it turned out that the first diagnosis was correct. It became a brutal fact, written as if it were hammered in stone that the tumor was indeed a malignant liver tumor. And yet, I will never forget how and with a never-felt-before, deep intensity Blissy looked at me when the vet let me alone with the information that I should put her down. To me, Blissy seemed to be able to look right into my heart and right into my soul saying something like: PLEASE, PLEASE PLEASE do not give up on me yet.”

“So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying, what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say.”

“So I pointed at the sun ascending in the horizon. Just as the darkened sky began to lighten. "Keep your eyes there." Her green ones flickered to me before following my finger. Her pulse picked up speed. "And what happens when it disappears?" I would've loved to tell her that it never would. That no matter where we were the sun would always be present. But it wouldn't have been true. The only thing we could count on was that the sun would rise again. "Wait for it to return," I told her. She gave me the saddest smile I'd ever fucking seen. "That's an awfully long time." For some people, I knew a minute could seem like an infinity. So maybe one night seemed like forever to Daisy. "Hey, Calloway," I said softly, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, one that escaped her pony. "Hey," she whispered back. "You ready to feel your fucking heart burst out of your chest?" Her features illuminated tenfold. And she said quietly, "Yes.”

“So I pulled the ridiculously small, unwrapped, box from the sleeve of my yukata (as they don’t have pockets) and rather overly self-consciously handed it to her. She took the pitiful little box, held it up to her ear and gave it a cautious little rattling shake. -You didn’t just put a couple of dried old beans in here, as a joke, did you? She suddenly glared at me suspiciously. I heard a stifled bark from Yumi at that, and a deep gasp from Uncle Suzuki and Aunt Anda, followed by a moment of silence. -Of course not, you silly old goose, I snapped back, -just open it and you’ll see what’s inside!”