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S Quotes

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All S Quotes

“So I realized when I was successful in a piece, it was because I didn't abandon a notion early on what it ought to be, and I let it take me along. So I've had songs that started out as being about the environment and ended up being love songs and love songs that ended up being about the environment. I've had things that I thought would be a poem and realized that it was just too big for that. I've got to do something larger and it became a play. I wrote one poem that started a whole play.”

“So I ring Justine Kalinsky and I say, "It's Francesca Spinelli," and she says, "Francesca, you've got to stop using last names. How are you doing?" and I say "I feel like shit", and I don't know how it happens, but by eight o'clock that night I'm lying next to her on the couch with Siobhan and Tara and we're eating junk food and watching a Keanu movie. And I want to stay on that couch for the rest of my life.”

“So,” I said. “Exactly how long have the two of you been together? I assume that you’ve been going hot and heavy ever since that night at Fletcher’s house when the bounty hunters interrupted you. Am I right?” Finn and Bria didn’t look at me or each other. “Right,” Bria mumbled. “Although if it makes you uncomfortable—” “Then Gin’s just going to have to deal with it,” Finn cut her off. Bria stared at him in surprise. “What?” Finn said. “I worked too hard and too long to get you into my bed to just cut you loose now, cupcake.” Bria’s eyes narrowed. “Cupcake?” “Cupcake.” Finn grinned at her. “Or would you prefer snuggle bunny?” Bria’s hand drifted down to the gun on her leather belt, as though she wanted to pull it out and shoot Finn with it. Well, it was good to know I wasn’t the only one who occasionally had that reaction to him. ... Then I fixed them both with a hard stare. “Just don’t ask me to take sides when the two of you go at each other. Okay?” They nodded, then looked at each other. Finn waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and Bria snorted. But she couldn’t stop a grin from curving her lips.”

“So,” I said, making a second attempt at nonchalance, “are you and Thalia, er…?” Reyna raised an eyebrow. “Involved romantically?” “Well, I just…I mean…Um…” Oh, very smooth, Apollo. Have I mentioned I was once the god of poetry? Reyna rolled her eyes. “If I had a denarius for every time I got that question…Aside from the fact that Thalia is in the Hunters, and thus sworn to celibacy…Why does a strong friendship always have to progress to romance? Thalia’s an excellent friend. Why would I risk messing that up?” “Uh—” “That was a rhetorical question,” Reyna added. “I do not need a response.” “I know what rhetorical means.” I made a mental note to double-check the word’s definition with Socrates the next time I was in Greece.”

“So I saw someone with one of those "home of the free because of the brave" shirts a few days ago. I almost laughed. I tried not to because of the upcoming Veterans day… I guess. Home of the Slaves because of the cowards, I think would be more appropriate. Look at these American wars. Vietnam… Iraq… is that really the “brave” thing to do? Beating up on little countries cuz u’r trying to look brave huh? Cowards. And then they tell me to go work at Kroger? Are you insane? Don’t you know my fucking SAT score, you dumb fuck? Why don’t you go and invade Croatia or something instead. Idiots.”

“So I say, if you cannot learn to love real art; at least learn to hate sham art and reject it. It is not because the wretched thing is so ugly and silly and useless that I ask you to cast it from you; it is much more because these are but the outward symbols of the poison that lies within them; look through them and see all that has gone to their fashioning, and you will see how vain labour, and sorrow, and disgrace have been their companions from the first-and all this for trifles that no man really needs!”

“So I see people mocking my usage of patois… or Jamaican creole which is a form of pidgin created from Afrikaan, Spanish and English languages. This is a Jamaican page by a Jamaican author. The person in the video is Jamaican. It’s common for people to think English is an indication of intelligence albeit only 20% of the world’s population speaks English and only 5% are native English speakers. I mean English itself is a creole of sorts with words from Celtic, Slavic and Latin languages.. Smartest people in the world are Asians (Chinese, Japanese and Indians) their native languages are Hindi, Mandarin and Creole Cantonese. Swahili and Igbo are big creole languages in Africa. Linguistic discrimination is not even warranted based on how languages are developed. Glottophobics are as bad as racist with their linguicism. English is just a superstrate language due to Anglo- Saxon colonization and the British empire… English is still a superstrate because of large English speaking populations such as America, England, South Africa, Nigeria and Canada.”

“So. I see where you're going—bus number 27 to a crossroads near Delphi. Look, I did not want, at any point, on any level, to kill my own father and sleep with my own mother. It's true that I wanted to sleep with Susan—and did so many times—and for a number of years thought of killing Gordon Macleod, but that is another part of the story. Not to put too fine a point on it, I think the Oedipus myth is precisely what it started off as: melodrama rather than psychology. In all my years of life I've never met anyone to whom it might apply. You think I'm being naive? You wish to point out that human motivation is deviously buried, and hides its mysterious workings from those who blindly submit to it? Perhaps so. But even—especially—Oedipus didn't want to kill his father and sleep with his mother, did he? Oh yes he did! Oh no he didn't! Yes, let's just leave it as a pantomime exchange.”

“So I sent Halt to straighten matters out. Thought it might be a good idea to give him something to keep him busy." So what's Digby got to complain about?" Rodney asked. It was obvious from his tone that he felt no sympathy for the recalcitrant commander of Barga Hold. The Baron gestured for Lady Pauline to explain. Apparently," she said,"Halt threw him into the moat.”

“So I should also pretend you didn't bring up my James Beard Award, like it's something to be ashamed of?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Sorry you run a conveyor-belt restaurant." Her voice was full of acid, but she blinked, then quickly looked down. A conveyor-belt restaurant? He deserved her rage, but he'd offered an olive branch and she snapped it in half. "I know what you think of me, Nina. The only food worth eating costs a month's rent, right? How's that going for you? I heard the LA location is in trouble now, too.”

“So I should be aware of the dangers of self-consciousness, but at the same time, I’ll be plowing through the fog of all these echoes, plowing through mixed metaphors, noise, and will try to show the core, which is still there, as a core, and is valid, despite the fog. The core is the core is the core. There is always the core, that can’t be articulated. Only caricatured.”

“So I should probably just tell you I'm about as green as these pistachios when it comes to macaroons. I've never even eaten one, let alone made---" I begin self-consciously, but Benny cuts me off. "Macarrrons," he says, throwing his hands up emphatically and rolling the r for longer than seems necessary. Not macaroons. Important distinction, Reese's Pieces. Two different cookies." I shake my head on an exhale, trying hard to keep my composure. "Right, well. Painful as it was to admit it the first time, I'll repeat that I've still never had a macaron, so you've gotta, like, tell me what to do." Benny grins at me, then looks directly into the camera. "It would be my honor." He shuffles around more bowls and I mock-whisper to the imaginary audience, "Apologies in advance to, well, feminism as a whole." "Did you say something?" Benny teases, pushing the pistachios toward me with finality. "There are just so many recipes, so much knowledge in my head that sometimes it's hard to hear anything outside it, you know?" "Keep it up, Benjamin," I say in the warning tone that my mamaw would use to tell my papaw that he should very much not keep it up.”