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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“The young gentlemen who came calling seemed especially puzzling. They sat in their velvet shirts and their leather boots, nibbling burnt cakes and praising Diamond's mind, and all the while their eyes said other things. Now, their eyes said. Now. Then: Patience, patience. 'You are flowers,' their mouths said, 'You are jewels, you are golden dreams.' Their eyes said: I eat flowers, I burn with dreams, I have a tower without a door in my heart, and I will keep you there...”

“The young ladies might behave like they were smooth and sealed as alabaster statues underneath their clothes, but then they would drop their soiled shifts on the bedchamber floor, to be whisked away and cleansed, and would thus reveal themselves to be the frail, leaking, forked bodily creatures that they really were. Perhaps that was why they spoke instructions at her from behind an embroidery hoop or over the top of a book: she had scrubbed away their sweat, their stains, their monthly blood; she knew they weren’t as rarefied as angels, and so they just couldn’t look her in the eye.”

“The young lady then placed her hands on Kode’s shoulder, letting her cheek rest on top of the pile. The smile on her face was more than a victory smile. It was a happy sign of contentment. Eena wondered. “When do you suppose those two will get married?” She whispered the question to Kira who still had a firm grip on her arm. “Kode get married?” The incredulity on Kira’s face matched her brother’s strong outburst. “Who the hell says I’m gettin’ hitched?” Niki pushed herself away from her boyfriend’s shoulder; her upper lip curled into a resentful scowl at the negative way he had voiced his query. Eena had never meant for them to overhear. She stumbled over a justification for the question. “It’s just that you’ve been together for a while, you know, like a couple. Close. I mean, you’re always together so…I just figured…” she let the notion trail off. Kode looked queasy. “We’re always together ‘cause she bloody follows me around everywhere I go like I’m some freakin’ tour guide!” “Fine!” Niki exclaimed, holding her palms like a defensive wall in front of her. “I’ll leave if that’s what you want. I don’t need you! There’s plenty of other guys who’d love to get their lips on me!” With that outburst, the pretty Mishmorat twirled her body around, setting off on foot with both fists seared into her hips. Kode let her take about four steps before he darted over and dragged her back. She didn’t put up much of a fight, but her beautiful burgundy eyes refused to look at him. “Ungrateful woman,” he murmured. “No one asked you to leave.” Niki continued to glare up at the cloudy sky. Kode sighed a long, perturbed sound. His next words were mumbled like they were torturous to have to speak out loud. “Come on, Niki, you know I don’t want you to go. Who the hell’s gonna keep me in line if you’re gone?” That made the pretty Mishmorat smile. She breathed in deeply and then dropped her gaze onto her man. His face was a goofy grimace, hers a smug grin of satisfaction. Kode threw an arm roughly around his girlfriend and pulled her close to him. He then turned to Eena, shrugging one shoulder. “She’ll probably break down and marry me this summer,” he said. “That’s what I’m thinkin’ anyway.” Niki’s head went back to rest on Kode’s shoulder, right where it had started.”

“The young look up to me as their feeder, said Alex. Well, they can go look for another trough. I'm through with this hogwash.Are liberal ideas hogwash?All ideas are hogwash, Jack.Don't you believe in anything anymore?Sure. I believe in God the Father of Nonsense, creator of Crap and Nonsense, is now and ever shall be Crap without end. Oh, oh, Jack, how we break our hearts trying to make sense of a world that's pure and utter crap. But if you ever come to where I am now, you'll be surprised and delighted to find out how little anything matters.You've begun to sound Christian, said Pocholo.”

“The young love and cherish people and places from which they receive the skills and the emotional support which enable them to make it in the world or to meet their basic human needs. The same people and places are often the first recipients of the frustration and anger--violence, vandalism, disrespect--of young people who are not making it well in the world. I suspect that this is the reason that personal and school property violence is increasing more rapidly than school burglary and dropout rates.”

“The young man [Turgot] destined for an ecclesiastical career was placed within walls carefully designed to keep out all currents of new thought; his studies, his reading, his professors, his associates, all were combined to keep from him any results of observation or reflection save those prescribed: probably, of all means for stifling healthy and helpful thought, a theological seminary, as then conducted whether Catholic or Protestant, Jewish or Mohammedan, was the most perfect.”

“The young man named George glanced at the clever lady, and then returned moodily to his plate. Obviously he and his father did not do. Lucy, in the midst of her success, found time to wish they did. It gave her no extra pleasure that anyone should be left in the cold; and when she rose to go, she turned back and gave the two outsiders a nervous little bow.”

“The young man’s thoughts returned to Katrina. I can instill love in her, but it will be just sexual passion with elements of submissive sacrifice. Outs don’t know how to do it otherwise. This is not true love! Although, for Katrina the suggested emotions will be indistinguishable from the true ones, and perhaps she will even be happy. But will I be happy? I will know that this is all a dastardly deception. That I turned a real human with a living soul into a bio-robot. I will destroy both my soul and hers. Isn’t that the intention of the emperor and Dark? If I kill, start torturing or process Katrina, then I will become similar to them. Turn another human into a submissive object, and then get sated with someone else’s body and emotions. This cannibalistic understanding of love is the signature style of outs. I must avoid this trap. But I love Katrina!”

“The young man shivered. He rolled the stock themes of fantasy over in his mind: cars and stockbrokers and commuters, housewives and police, agony columns and commercials for soap, income tax and cheap restaurants, magazines and credit cards and streetlights and computers... 'It is escapism, true,' he said, aloud. 'But is not the highest impulse in mankind the urge toward freedom, the drive to escape?”

“The young man stood beside the arch the way a tree stood in a forest as if he'd always been there. He wore no cloak or cape, just sinuous leather armour and an unusual bronze helm. The top portion almost looked like a crown, thick and decorated with unfamiliar symbols that wrapped around the young man's forehead. The helm left most of his wavy brown hair uncovered but concealed much of his face with a wide curve of harsh, spiked metal that bracketed the sides of his head and covered his jaw all the way to the bridge of his nose, leaving only a pair of eyes and slashing cheekbones exposed.”

“The young man wandered around for quite some time, thinking, planning, and figuring out exactly how to make the world his. Then one day, out of nowhere, it struck him - the perfect plan. He'd seen a mother walking with her child. At one point, she admonished the small boy, until finally, he began to cry. Within a few minutes, she spoke softly to him, after which he was soothed and even smiled. The young man rushed to the woman and embraced her. "Words!" He grinned. "What?" But there was no reply. He was already gone. Yes, the Fuhrer decided that he would rule the world with words.”

“The young man went to India, where he was drowned. As there is no mystery in this matter, it may as well be stated here that young Heaton ultimately returned to England, as drowned men have ever been in the habit of doing, when their return will mightily inconvenience innocent persons who have taken their places. It is a disputed question whether the sudden disappearance of a man, or his reappearance after a lapse of years, is the more annoying. ("The Vengeance Of The Dead")”

“The young man who addresses himself in stern earnest to organizing his life-his habits, his associations, his reading, his study, his work-stands far more chance of rising to a position affording him opportunity to exercise his organizing abilities than the fellow who dawdles along without chart or compass, without plan or purpose, without self-improvement and self-discipline.”

“The young man who closes the door behind him, who draws the curtains, and there in silence pleads with God for help, should first pour out his soul in gratitude for health, for friends, for loved ones, for the gospel, for the manifestations of God's existence. He should first count his many blessings and name them one by one.”

“The young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square, Westminster, was so unobtrusively American that his driver had some hesitation in asking for double his fare. The young man had no hesitation in refusing it.”

“The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!”

“The young mouse's eyes snapped open, clear and bright. He swung the ancient sword high and struck at the giant adder. He struck for Redwall! He struck against evil! He struck for Martin! He struck for Log-a-Log and his shrews! He struck for dead Guosim! He struck as Methuselah would have wanted him to! He struck against Cluny the Scourge and tyranny! He struck out against Captain Snow's ridicule! He struck for the world of light and freedom! He struck until his paws ached and the sword fell from them!”

“The young must grow old, Whilst old ones grow older, And cowards will shrink, As the bold grow bolder. Courage may blossom in quiet hearts, For who can tell where bravery starts? Truth is a song, oft lying unsung, Some mother bird, protecting her young, Those who lay down their life for friends, The echo rolls onward, it seldom ends. Who never turned and ran, but stayed? This is a warrior born, not made! Living in peace, aye many a season, Calm in life and sound in season, 'Til evil arrives, a wicked horde, Driving a warrior to pick up his sword.”

“The young must grow old Whilst old ones grow older. And cowards will shrink As the bold grow bolder. Courage may blossom in quiet hearts, For who can tell where bravery starts? Truth is a song, oft lying unsung, Some mother bird protecting her young. Those who lay down their lives for friends, The echo rolls onward, it seldom ends. Who never turned and ran, but stayed? This is a warrior, born, not made. Living in peace, aye many a season, Calm in life and sound in reason, Till evil arrives, a wicked horde Driving the warrior to pick up his sword The challenger rings then, straight and fair, Justice is with us, beware, beware.”