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“You know that all dragons collect treasure of one sort or another, correct?" he asked, looking straight at Andie. "That's The Tradition, of course," she replied. "I don't know how you could possibly escape that particular compulsion." "Well, our family does that, too, of course," he said. "But our treasure is a bit different. We're librarians." He held up his fore-claws and she saw that they had been blunted; looking closer, she saw that what was covering the talons were sheaths of some sort with blunt tips. Well, if they were librarians... they'd have to keep from damaging the books, wouldn't they? "Librarians," she said aloud, then grinned as she got it. "Good gods. You are Bookwyrms, aren't you?" Gina stared at her a moment, then groaned as she got the pun. The Tradition loved puns.”

“You know that book of poems I’m always carrying around? [...] In one of her poems, she calls hope the ‘thing with feathers,’ and I always think about that…. Maybe when we hope for something, the hope flies off to find whatever it is we’re thinking about…and then it brings it back to us. And when there’s nothing else we can do, at least we can hope.”

“You know that certain things that you use in the film are going to be shown to audiences five hundred times before they ever sit down to watch the movie. So you have to kind of modulate what can I do to give marketing enough material but that I can still withhold certain things so that it's fresh and surprising for the audience coming to see the movie.”

“You know that Estonia, based largely on how successful Skype was, built by Estonian developers, that was a tenth of the entire country's GDP when eBay bought it. That was like a decade ago, it was f****** Estonia, they were behind the Iron Curtain two decades earlier. They're now pushing for K-12 education in computer science in public schools. They've gotten the message. They know how much value that can bring.”

“You know that feeling of invincibility you sometimes get, especially when young and testing yourself - well that could be because actually know deep down that we are indeed eternal. We come into this world to live a life, to experience it, from somewhere else, some other plane, but we are programmed by all around us to deny or forget this - until one day we may remember again. That feeling of blissful reconnection with our source can be invoked through nature, beautiful writing or art or music, any detailed craft or work of discovery or personal dedication, meditation or other mentally balancing practice, or even through religious experience if there is a pure communion (not a pretence of it). But we should not yearn to return too soon, we should accept that we have come here for the duration of each life, and revel in the chance to learn and grow on this splendid planet. We can draw a deep sense of being-ness. peace, and love from this connection, which will sustain us through any trial. Once nurtured, this becomes stronger than any other connection, so of course our relationships here are most joyful when they allow us the personal freedom to spend time developing and celebrating that connection. Our deepest friendships form with those we can share such time and experiences with - discussing, meditating, immersing ourselves in nature, or creating our music, art, written or other works. Our journeys here are voyages of discovery, opening out the wonders within and all around. What better companions could we have than those who are able to fully share in such delights with us?”

“You know that feeling when you’re suddenly startled out of a deep sleep, and you’re in that hazy middle world where you’re not sure what’s real—like maybe you actually could be chasing after an ice cream truck wearing only fishing waders and a canary yellow bridesmaid’s dress, or you’re just one answer away from winning a year’s supply of adult diapers on a Japanese game show? —SINGLE-MINDED”

“You know that feeling when you suddenly realize that you are alive, that you’ve lived days without noticing that you’re alive, days without realizing that you control the most minute movements of your extremities, days without truly thinking about the impact of every little thing you do, days without living at all, days of merely existing...”

“You know that feeling you get, when the sky has turned green, air raid sirens are blowing, the theme to the "Wizard of Oz" wafts softly through the air, your neighbor has just blown by backwards on her bicycle, and an ominous funnel cloud is hovering on the horizon? Yeah, that feeling. the one that says that says "A picnic! That's what I need to do right about now! What could possible go wrong?”

“You know that feeling,” she said, “when you are reading a book, and you know that it is going to be a tragedy; you can feel the cold and darkness coming, see the net drawing tight around the characters who live and breathe on the pages. But you are tied to the story as if being dragged behind a carriage and you cannot let go or turn the course aside.” His blue eyes were dark with understanding — of course Will would understand.”

“You know that fiction, prose rather, is possibly the roughest trade of all in writing. You do not have the reference, the old important reference. You have the sheet of blank paper, the pencil, and the obligation to invent truer than things can be true. You have to take what is not palpable and make it completely palpable and also have it seem normal and so that it can become a part of experience of the person who reads it.”

“You know that food eases every trouble.' Angie found herself smiling. How many times in her life had she come home from school, devastated by some social slight, only to hear Mama say, Eat something. You'll feel better... 'I've been through two divorces. Food so doesn't help. I tried to get her to put some tequila in the basket, but you know Mama.' She leaned closer. 'I have some Zoloft in my purse if you need it.”

“You know that I am one of the foremost living experts on the ways of the Folk," I said. I was not worried about bragging, for this was a simple statement of fact. "That is the problem," Lilja replied. "Yes, I know that you know the Folk, but there is a difference between knowing and feeling. Those of us who live among them would never trust the tall ones. For all you have read about and studied the Folk, you have never truly lived with them, dear. They are like--- like nature. Can you understand the feeling of a winter night, or a spring wind, if you have only read about it?" This was an uncomfortable echo of something Farris had said to me once. I pursed my lips and replied, "All right. Let us accept for the sake of argument that you possess a truer understanding of the Folk than I, that books and academic knowledge are secondary to lived experience. What then would you have me fear?" She hesitated. "Power," she said at last. "In our stories, it is the great ones--- the lords and ladies, the monarchs and generals, that one must avoid above all else. They are the true monsters lurking in the night." This again! I thought. Aloud I said, "I have heard a similar opinion recently from another friend of mine, who seems to think Wendell will abandon me to die of exposure or some such, I suppose when he becomes tired of me." "Oh, no!" Lilja said. "That is not what I meant--- I don't believe for a second that Wendell would harm you. But I worry there will come a day when you no longer recognize him. And what hurt is worse than that?”

“You know that I don't believe that anyone has ever taught anything to anyone. I question that efficacy of teaching. The only thing that I know is that anyone who wants to learn will learn. And maybe a teacher is a facilitator, a person who puts things down and shows people how exciting and wonderful it is and asks them to eat.”

“You know that I hate you, Roark. I hate you for what you are, for wanting you, for having to want you. I'm going to fight you-and I'm going to destroy you-and I tell you this as calmly as I told you that I'm a begging animal. I'm going to pray that you can't be destroyed-I tell you this, too-even though I believe in nothing and have nothing to pray to. But I will fight to block every step you take. I will fight to tear every chance you want away from you. I will hurt you through the only thing that can hurt you-through your work. I will fight to starve you, to strangle you on the things you won't be able to reach. I have done it to you to today-and that is why I shall sleep with you tonight. Part 2, Chapter 7, pg. 272-3 The Fountainhead”

Author:Ayn Rand

“You know that I have hitch-hiked around and have been alone in weird cities and places, and waked up in the morning not knowing who I was (particularly one time in Des Moines.) Neal, what I want is a big home with about twenty people in it, whole families at the same time, something going on all the time, someone leaving, someone coming, someone building a shelf, someone mending a fence, someone sewing, someone cooking, someone reading, someone eating, so on, and on, on, on . . . I want all the Shakespearian gamut of things in one big tumultuous house. [letter to Neal Cassady, June 27, 1948]”

“You know that I have not lagged behind in the work of exploring our grand wilderness, and in calling everybody to come and enjoy the thousand blessings they have to offer.”