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V Quotes

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All V Quotes

“V frowned. There was only a hissing sound coming from the voice mail. But then a clatter had him yanking the phone away from his ear. Now Butch's voice, hard, loud: "Dematerialize. Dematerialize now." A scared male: "But-but-" "Now! For fuck's sake, get your ass out of here..." Sounds of muffled flapping. "Why are you doing this? You're just a human-" "I am so sick of hearing that. Leave!" There was a metallic shifting, a gun being reloaded. Butch's voice: "Oh,shit..." Then all hell broke loose. Gunshots, grunts, thuds. V leaped up from his desk so fast he knocked his chair over.”

“V grabbed him by the lapels and yanked him up against his body. The brother was trembling from head to foot, his eyes glowing like crystals in the night. "You are not my enemy." Instantly pissed off, Butch gripped V's shoulders, bunching up the leather jacket in his fists. "How do we know for sure." V bared his fangs and hissed, his black eyebrows cranking down hard. Butch gave the aggression right back, hoping, praying, ready for them to start clocking each other. He was jonesing to hit and get hit back; he wanted blood all over the both of them. For long moments, they stayed locked together, muscles straining, sweat blooming, right on the edge. Then Vishous's voice came out into space between their faces, the cracked tone riding a panting, desperate breath and getting bucked off. "You are my only friend. Never my enemy." No telling who embraced who first, but the urge to beat the living shit out of the other guy bled from their bodies, leaving only the bond between them. They wound up tight together and stood for a time in the cold wind. When they stepped back, it was awkwardly and with embarrassment.”

“V jerked back to the present. And for some reason didn't lie. "I'm thinking about my tattoos." "When did you get them?" "Almost three centuries ago." She whistled. "God, you live that long?" "Longer. Assuming I don't get cracked dead in a fight and you fool humans don't blow up the planet, I'll be breathing for another seven hundred years.”

“V nevědomí ženy lze tedy očekávat podstatně jiné aspekty, než jaké nacházíme u muže. Mám-li nyní říci jedním slovem, kde jev tomto ohledu rozdíl mezi mužem a ženou, čím je animus charakteristický oproti anime, mohu říci jen: jako anima vyvolává nálady, tak animus vyvolává mínění, a tak jako nálady u muže vystupují z temného pozadí, tak mínění u ženy spočívá na stejně nevědomých, apriorních předpokladech.”

“V rolled the Aquafina bottle between his palms. "How long have you wanted to ask me the question? About the gay thing." "For a while." "Afraid of what I'd say?" "Nope, because it doesn't matter to me one way or the other. I'm tight with you whether you like males or females or both." V looked into his best friend's eyes and realized… yeah, Butch wasn't going to judge him. They were cool no matter what. With a curse, V rubbed the center of his chest and blinked. He never cried but he felt as if he could at this moment.”

“V.S. Pritchett's definition of a short story is 'something glimpsed from the corner of the eye, in passing.' Notice the 'glimpse' part of this. First the glimpse. Then the glimpse gives life, turned into something that illuminates the moment and may, if we're lucky -- that word again -- have even further ranging consequences and meaning. The short story writer's task is to invest the glimpse with all that is in his power. He'll bring his intelligence and literary skill to bear (his talent), his sense of proportion and sense of the fitness of things: of how things out there really are and how he sees those things -- like no one else sees them. And this is done through the use of clear and specific language, language used so as to bring to life the details that will light up the story for the reader. For the details to be concrete and convey meaning, the language must be accurate and precisely given. The words can be so precise they may even sound flat, but they can still carry; if used right they can hit all the notes.”

“V smiled, his eyes a little shiny as if he too were choked up. "Don't worry, I'm covered. So, I guess you're back, true?" "And ready to rock and roll." "Really." "For sure. I'm thinking about a future in contracting. Wanted to see how this bathroom was put together. Excellent tile work. You should check it." "How about I carry you back to bed?" "I want to look at the sink pipes next." Respect and affection clearly drove V's cool smirk. "At least let me help you up." "Nah, I can do it." With a groan, Butch gave the vertical move a shot, but then eased back down onto the tile. Turned out his head was a little overwhelming. But if they left him here long enough-a week, maybe ten days? "Come on, cop. Cry uncle here and let me help." Butch was suddenly too tired to front. As he went totally limp, he was aware of Marissa staring at him and thought, man, could he look any weaker? Shit, the only saving grace was there wasn't a cold breeze on his butt. Which suggested the hospital gown had stayed closed. Thank you, God.”

“V-Day...if you need this one day in a year to show everyone else you truly care for "your loved one" I think it's quite stupid. I hate this commercialism. It's all artificial, and has nothing to do with real love.”

“Va a sonar muy cliché o muy bobo, pero las cosas no suceden sólo porque sí, o tal vez sí lo hacen, y nosotros sólo le damos ese sentido al decir esa frase tonta que usamos para justificar lo que nos sucede, pero no sé. Tal vez ésa sí sea una de las pocas cosas que pasaron por algo y no sólo porque sí. Pero cuando unos hombres abrieron mi puerta y me jalaron mientras yo comenzaba a gritar, supe que nada podía mejorar y en ningún momento se me cruzó por la mente ese: Tal vez esto está pasando por algo.”

“Va ser llavors que em vaig fixar en un blau que tenia just per sota del genoll. Ja l’havia vist abans, però en aquell moment el seu to porpra, que en una de les vores virava cap al verd grogós, va atreure els meus ulls, com si aquesta petita ferida fos realment el tema del quadre. M’hi vaig atansar, vaig posar un dit a la tela i vaig resseguir el contorn del blau. Aquest gest em va excitar. Em vaig girar per mirar l’Erica. Era un dia càlid de setembre, i ella tenia els braços descoberts. Em vaig inclinar i li vaig besar les pigues de les espatlles, i en acabat li vaig enretirar els cabells que li cobrien el coll i vaig besar la pell suau de sota. Em vaig agenollar davant seu, li vaig apujar la roba de la faldilla, li vaig passar els dits per les cuixes, i llavors vaig fer servir la llengua.”

“Va-t’en, mon amour, a-t-il dit. Laisse-moi. Moi, je ne peux pas partir, mais toi oui, tu peux échapper à tout ça, à moi, à eux. Il n’y a rien, Rosario, ce sont des champs de mort et de folie. Je suis la porte qui mène à ce néant et que je ne peux pas fermer. Il n’y a rien à chercher, rien à comprendre. - Je ne te quitterai jamais. Demande-moi autre chose. - Si tu ne pars pas, alors ne me laisse pas seul. Même si tu meurs, Hante moi comme un fantôme, haunt me. - Evidemment. Je ferais n’importe quoi pour toi.”

“Vacant yet hopeful The windows are closed, The room is lit with sunshine and many wishes proposed and unproposed, There in the vacant room where no one lives, You can feel something that mind denies and only the heart believes, Something unseen that sweeps across the walls, Walls from where the sunlight night’s shadows uninstalls, Shadows that do not leave the room and occupy dark corners of this vacant room, Almost like the dark irony of the shadow cast by the most beautiful flower in bloom, And as the sun is forced to retire by the advancing darkness, The shadows rise and hang on the walls with a defiant steadiness, Then they begin to crawl to and fro, here and there, until they are everywhere, And the vacant room is now occupied by its resident darkness that springs from somewhere, Maybe it is just an imagination, because nights are dark and days are either bright or sunny, There could be reasons many, and explanations as many, So, I decide to occupy the vacant room and challenge its shadows, There in the shadows, I found trapped moments of time, that the room from somewhere borrows, From past, from moments that long ago ceased to exist, So, I opened the windows and the shadows fell, and they no longer did about anything insist, Because the touch of sunlight had allowed the hope to enter, And now, the once dark room, the room of sorrows, is the hope’s main center, Where I often enter to think of her, and my past, And now instead of dark shadows, her beautiful reflection on all walls I have cast, So, if you happen to visit the room, and you see her staring at you from every wall, It is a fused reflection of our love, all our feelings; and an open display of our romantic ball.”

“Vacation time is the best time to do solitude because you could just take two weeks of it or one week of it and just isolate yourself. And when you isolate yourself, you can just begin to convert that time of vacation into any product you want.”

“Vacation time offers the unique opportunity to pause before the thought-provoking spectacles of nature, a wonderful "book" within reach of everyone, adults and children. In contact with nature, a person rediscovers his correct dimension, rediscovers himself as a creature, small but at the same time unique, with a "capacity for God" because interiorly he is open to the Infinite.”

“Vacations for wage earners have proved both popular with workers and profitable for employers. Unfortunately, the majority of large employers have not yet followed the example set by a number of progressive corporations. I don't know of a single company that has abandoned vacations for wage earners after having tried the experiment. But I do know many that are delighted with the fruits they have gathered. Under some of the plans vacations with pay must be earned by good behavior, punctuality, etc.... The best results have come where the treatment has been regarded as most liberal.”