Quotessence
Home / Quotes / T Quotes

T Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with T. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All T Quotes

“There were some parts of the film [Swiss Army Man] that the Daniels [Kwan and Scheinert] really wanted to look as elegant as a piece of ballet. As Hank and Manny go on in the story, they get better and better at being with each other and more and more adept - Hank knows more and more what Manny's going to need at any given point, and having that choreography helps a bit.”

“There were some people in Rayya’s life who had more piercing questions about the omnipresent bottles of bitters than did I. They’d say, “Wait, aren’t you sober? Are you really supposed to be drinking that stuff?” “It’s just herbs,” she would say. “For my digestion.” “But it’s got alcohol in it,” they might protest. Because multiple times over the years—more times than I can count—I watched Rayya blink in amazement and then say with convincing sincerity, “Really? It does? Oh my gosh. I didn’t know that!” I even remember someone once showing Rayya the label of the bottle and pointing to the spot that read “44.7% alc./vol.” To which Rayya responded, “Wow, I can’t even read that without my glasses.” Once I even heard her say to someone, “Bitters aren’t really the same thing as regular alcohol. It’s, like, burnt alcohol.” (His reply? “I don’t know, Ray. I’m pretty sure 44.7 percent alcohol means 44.7 percent alcohol.”) Looking back on it now, I have trouble making sense of how I made sense of this extreme cognitive dissonance. I was watching an allegedly sober person drink every day without admitting that she was drinking—and right in front of my eyes. I was also watching the single most honest person I had ever met pretending—again and again—that she didn’t know her alcoholic drink had alcohol in it. But here’s where my disease comes in: because I somehow made all this okay. I overlooked it, rather than looking it over. I had to overlook it. My fear- and need-addled brain could not handle a reality in which Rayya had any weaknesses or character flaws whatsoever, because she had become my place of safety. Rayya was trustworthiness to me, embodied in human form. And I could not let go of that. I had to keep living in a storyline where Rayya was the soul of all integrity—or else my terror of the world would come back, and I could not bear to have my terror of the world come back. It is truly incredible what you cannot see, when you cannot bear to see it.”

“There were some people you had to stay away from, people who poisoned everything in reach. Then there were people you wanted to stick with, the ones with silver tongues and golden touched. And then, there were people you stood beside, because it meant you weren't in their way. And whoever Victor Vale was, whatever he was, and whatever he was up to, the only thing Mitch knew was that he did not want to be in his way.”

“There were some places, and streets, where he did not venture since he had learnt that others had claims there greater than his own - not the gangs of meths drinkers who lived in no place and no time, nor the growing number of the young who moved on restlessly across the face of the city, but vagrants like himself who, despite the name which the world has given them, had ceased to wander and now associated themselves with one territory or 'province' rather than another. All of them led solitary lives, hardly moving from their own warren of streets and buildings: it is not known whether they chose the area, or whether the area itself had callen them and taken them in, but they had become the guardian spirits (as it were) of each place. Ned now knew some of their names: Watercress Joe, who haunted the streets by St Mary Woolnoth, Black Sam who lived and slept beside the Commercial Road between Whitechapel and Limehouse, Harry the Goblin who was seen only by Spitalfields and Artillery Lane, Mad Frank who walked continually through the streets of Bloomsbury, Italian Audrey who was always to be found in the dockside area of Wapping (it was she who had visited Ned in his shelter many years before), and 'Alligator' who never moved from Greenwich.”

“There were some types of sanctions that happen in the public world that made my work acceptable, where someone looks at the paintings and they don't - they may go, "okay," and then look at it in a different sort of way. Instead of just looking at it as some type of wild art, they look at it in a historical perspective or context.”

“There were some upperclassmen in a room at the end of the hall who asked if there was anything they could do to make us feel more at home. They were being overly polite to us when they introduced themselves, and asked if they could show us how to make our beds. I smelled a rat, as did my new roommates, so we respectfully declined their offer, and it’s good that we did. They laid their kindness on so thick, that I knew it was a sham and guessed that they were sizing us up for things to come. I knew I was right when some other muggs asked a question of them, and wound up in the coal bin, shoveling coal from one side of the bunker to another for half the night. Usually the upperclassmen came in two’s or three’s, and when they came, they banged on the door with their fists. The door flew open as they pushed their way in, making as much noise as possible and shouting the command, “Attention on Deck!” Perhaps the idea of shoveling coal was a holdover from the days when ships used coal as fuel….”

“There were spaceships again in that century, an dthe ships were manned by fuzzy impossibilities that walked on two legs and sprouted tufts of hair in unlikely anatomical regions. They were a garrulous kind. They belonged to a race quite capable of admiring its own image in a mirror, and equally capable of cutting its own throat before the altar of some tribal god, such as the deity of Daily Shaving. It was a species that considered itself to be, basically, a race of divinely inspired toolmakers; any intelligent entity from Arcturus would instantly have perceived them to be, basically, a race of impassioned after-dinner speechmakers.”

“There were spaceships again in that century, and the ships were manned by fuzzy impossibilities that walked on two legs and sprouted tufts of hair in unlikely anatomical regions. They were a garrulous kind. They belonged to a race quite capable of admiring its own image in a mirror, and equally capable of cutting its own throat before the altar of some god, such as the deity of Daily Shaving. It was a species which often considered itself to be, basically, a race of divinely inspired toolmakers; any intelligent entity from Arcturus would instantly have perceived them to be, basically, a race of impassioned after-dinner speechmakers. It was inevitable, it was manifest destiny, they felt (and not for the first time) that such a race go forth to conquer stars. To conquer them several times, if need be, and certainly to make speeches about the conquest. But, too, it was inevitable that the race succumb again to the old maladies on new worlds, even as on Earth before, in the litany of life and in the special liturgy of Man...”

“There were special words for me, lurking on the horizon, prepackaged to mark the possible future stages of my existence. I might become a spinster. I might become a crone. I might be a babe or a MILF or ‚childless‘. My brothers, no matter what else might befall them, would remain men. And in the end of it all, if I was lucky, I would become that most piteous of things, an old lady, whom I already understood was a figure everybody felt free to patronize, even children.”

“There were stalls nestled around the castle the way the lights were, not in rows but in odd spots, as if the stalls had grown there or alighted on random places like birds. There was one stall with ringing chimes that was set halfway up a ruined wall, so the customers had to climb sliding pieces of slate to get to it. There were more stalls set in the grassy hollows among the stones and nestled into the corners of the walls. One woman had actually turned a ruined wall into her stall, brightly colored jars arranged on the jagged, protruding shards of stone. All through the fragments of a lost castle lit by magic moved the people of the Goblin Market. There was a man hanging up knives alongside wind chimes, which made dangerous and beautiful music as they rang together in the sea breeze. There was a boy who looked about twelve stirring something in a cauldron with a rich-smelling cloud handing over it, and bark cups ranged along his stall.”

“There were still few rules at Down House, and Charles was not very good at enforcing the ones he and Emma did make. This was well known among his children. In 1855, when Lenny was about five, Charles walked in to find his son jumping up and down and tumbling all over a new sofa. 'Oh Lenny, Lenny,' Charles said. 'You know it is against all rules.' 'Then,' Lenny said to his papa, 'I think you'd better go out of the room.' And so Charles did.”

“There were streetlights here, but they were so far apart and surrounded by trees that light dropped away to solid black between them. The skin on the back of his neck crawled as he became aware of the darkness. He didn't usually walk around after nightfall, but tonight he'd had no choice without his car. The wind lifted his hair, leaving him shivering; a voice in his mind chattered nervously. There was someone in my yard the other night...”

“There were streets, narrow and crowded with people and vehicles. Above them flashed neon lights and blinking billboards of every colour, shape and size. Some ran up the sides of buildings, others blinked on and off in store windows. In the space above the sidewalk, higher than a double-decker bus, hung flashing neon signs in bright pink, yellow, read, blue, orange, green and white. Yes, if white could be whiter than white, it was when it was in neon, Hong Mei thought. She knew Nathan Road in Kowloon was famous for its neon lights.”

“There were studies that asked people in different cultures to draw pictures of their enemies, and the pictures all looked remarkably the same. They always had exaggerated canine teeth and a certain sort of expression. That led to speculation about whether at an earlier stage in the human experience we were hunted by some sort of carnivore.”

“There were successful ways of expressing the attitude and less successful ways. I think that spirit is very much alive today actually. That's what a certain generation of curators is alert to or on the look out for: an attitude. And it is a brilliant and moving spectacle when it happens. That suspension of disbelief is something that we all respond to. But it's hard to capture the butterfly without tearing the wings off of it.”

“There were ten thousand things, drop by drop, that had polished and improved him. Every time he held his temper and forced himself to be patient with his children. Each time he had chosen to ignore or forgive when someone cut him off in traffic, every time he had extended himself to learn and grow instead of coast, every time he had gotten outside himself and tried to make someone else’s life better, each time he strove to keep his mind from wandering, every time he turned off the TV to spend time with his kids, every deadline and goal he had set for himself and strove to reach, each another drop in his reservoir of strength, each small and seemingly insignificant, yet each bolstered his spirit and gave him added strength.”