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Z Quotes

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“Zane let his head loll back and lifted one hand to gently prod his split lip. "Ow." "Whine about it. It'll make it better," Ty offered as he stood in front of his locker, his back to Zane, and unwrapped the tape from his hands with jerky, irritated movements. "Bite me," Zane muttered as he dug into his locker for a towel before starting in on the tape on his own hands. He spared an evil glance for Ty. "Teaching me to advance in a fight is a bad idea." "Teaching you to fight at all is an exercise in futility," Ty responded in a matter-of-fact tone. "Luckily for you, I enjoy things like banging my head against a wall." "I enjoy banging your head against a wall too," Zane replied as he tossed the balled-up tape at a nearby trash can. He let a small smile quirk his lips as he sat on the bench to unlace his shoes. "Shut up," Ty grunted at him. But even though his back was still turned to him, Zane could hear the smile in his voice. "And cut it out with the damn cat jokes, huh? They're starting to catch on." "Fine, fine. No reason to get catty about it," Zane told his partner with a barely concealed grin. "A for effort," Ty conceded charitably.”

“Zane looks pensive, and then his lips twitch. “They say most girls end up marrying a guy just like their dad.” “Oh God … That’s so lame,” I say, spluttering as coffee dribbles down my chin. “I believe it’s a tried and tested theory,” he says, standing up and wiping my chin with the back of his hand. I jolt at his touch. “Now it’s a theory? I thought it was a saying? Next you’ll be telling me it’s a fact.” I flop back down on the couch. “Empirical evidence shows that sixty-eight percent of girls marry a guy who displays similar personality traits to her father ...” His voice trails off as I shake my head. “What?” he asks, his palms open and raised. “You really need to get out more. Where’d you glean that interesting nugget? The desperate men’s journal perhaps?”

“Zane rolled his eyes, glad he had come alone. Hell of a negotiator John would be. He would have given the whole damn company away and they'd all have been working for his father, God help them. "So, how long?" John asked. "I hope soon. With any luck he 'll have something for me to sign tomorrow. I'm going to hang here tonight, unless we get called in." It wouldn't kill him to sleep under his father's roof for one night, probably. That would also give time for the required show of good faith: the date with Missy. "So that will be it then, a signed contract and we're good to go?" "That's it." A signed contract and Zane's bachelorhood, if his father had his way.”

“Zane," she moaned. "Please touch me." "I will. I'm going to touch every inch of you until I know what makes you sigh and what makes you giggle and what makes you beg me to never stop. I'm going to make you shudder and scream so that long after tonight you'll remember the feel of my hands and exactly where they were on your body." "I'm going to die if you don't get on with it.”

“ZANY, n. A popular character in old Italian plays, who imitated with ludicrous incompetence the _buffone_, or clown, and was therefore the ape of an ape; for the clown himself imitated the serious characters of the play. The zany was progenitor to the specialist in humor, as we to-day have the unhappiness to know him. In the zany we see an example of creation; in the humorist, of transmission. Another excellent specimen of the modern zany is the curate, who apes the rector, who apes the bishop, who apes the archbishop, who apes the devil.”

“Zaqar Publishing House, a beast of red brick and chipped plaster, protruded from the surrounding buildings like a broken branch in swamp muck. You could hear the whirring of the massive printing presses from the street. Soot and smoke coated the walls, making it look like a smudge. This was, of course, in the days before the paper’s façade had to yellow for it to survive.”

“Zar se, dakle, i heroji pod kožom tako malograđanski boje smrti? Sasvim logično. Jedno je javna smrt, smrt u punom ornatu, a drugo je sitna, privatna smrt, Jedno je izložiti se zalutalom tanetu "na polju časti", atentatorskom metku u krunidbenoj povorci, pasti prosvirana šešira s perjem, "pod ešarpom izvršene dužnosti", a drugo je pasivno dotrajavanje sred četiri zida našeg tmurnog doma, među našim altdajč kredencima, rastočena trbuha pod kordonom kućne haljine, iz koje davno upijeni mirisi jela, kućevnosti, ishlapljena naftalina već čudno udaraju mirisom smrti.”

“Zar su isti oni koji znanju i oni koji ne znaju?! 1. neznanje + siromaštvo = krađa 2. neznanje + imetak = rasipništvo 3. neznanje + sloboda = anarhija 4. neznanje + vlast = nepravda 5. neznanje + vjera = pretjerivanje Na mjesto neznanja postavi znanje, pa ćeš spoznati njegovu vrijednost: 1. znanje + siromaštvo = zadovoljstvo 2. znanje + imetak = pomaganje drugih 3. znanje + sloboda = sretan život 4. znanje + vlast = pravda 5. znanje + vjera = ustrajnost”

“Zar čovjekovo poricanje Boga nije ponekad kapriciozno? Ograničenost savremenog čovjeka najviše se ogleda u njegovom uvjerenju da mu je sve jasno. Njegova mudrost je zbir njegovog znanja i ogromne količine neznanja koje on ne primjećuje, koje on, bolje rečeno, prihvata kao znanje. I pred licem najveće tajne on se ponaša samouvjereno i uobraženo. On ne vidi zagonetku i upravo u tome se očituje kolosalna mjera njegovog neznanja i predrasuda.”

“Zara.” He sighs. The wind bellows outside. “How can I make you understand this? I need your mom. If I don’t get her, more boys will die.” “That’s ridiculous.” “No, it’s just how it is.” I think for a second. “If that’s true, then why did Ian try to turn me?” He loses his composure. His face shifts into something worried, something almost human. “Did he kiss you?” “Almost. Betty killed him first.” He almost smiles. He pulls his hand through his hair. “Betty is fierce.” “Is that why you stay away when she’s here?” “Not even a pixie wants to tangle with a tiger.” He blows on the ember in his hand. It turns to dust. “You seem like you could handle almost anything,” I say. “This?” He smirks. “Parlor tricks.”

“Zara turned in his arms. "What can I do to help?" He let out a shuddering breath. "You can go find yourself a guy who's not all messed up." "I kinda like this guy." She leaned up to kiss his cheek. "If you hadn't noticed, messed up is my specialty." His hand slid under her nightshirt and he stroked the curve of her hip. "I need you." "I was hoping you'd say that." She drew his hand down to her lace-covered rear. "I've been wearing special panties every night in case you did.”

“Zarathustra was the first to consider the fight of good and evil the very wheel in the machinery of things: the transposition of morality into the metaphysical realm, as a force, cause, and end in itself, is his work. [...] Zarathustra created this most calamitous error, morality; consequently, he must also be the first to recognize it.”

“Zarek era stato forte per tutta la vita e voleva continuare a esserlo. Non l'avrebbe mai legata a sé. Non sarebbe stato giusto. A volte una stella cade sulla terra. Sentì le parole di Acheron in testa. Aveva ragione; a volte succedeva, ma col tempo quella stella si omologava alla banalità e alla sporcizia del mondo. La sua era speciale. Non avrebbe permesso che diventasse come le altre. Non avrebbe permesso che venisse infangata e perdesse la sua unicità. No, il suo posto era nel cielo. Con la sua famiglia.”