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Hybrid Quotes

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Hybrid Quotes

“One celestial quake and the timeline belonging to her had imploded in the heavens like a dying star. It was like falling into oblivion, she thought wearily, the tattered remains of her life floated—unanchored in a vacuum of what was and what little remained.”

“There are always messages, even enigmas to be searched, mysteries to be solved in all of my books. I like to puzzle readers, but I do not make so to the point of being so complex that they will lose interest in the plot. And that for me is the essence of every great literature around the world, and that’s been so for ages. (....)Some were inpired by real life characters, some other books I wrote are hybrid fiction/non-fiction, so I pretty much get inspired by people who have lived, and even who are still breathing among us… so don’t get discouraged if I didn’t mention your personality traits yet. I might even have your name over my books, I must some day…”

“There are 2 kinds of artists, essentially: those who want to make something popular, and those who want to make something dignified. But then there is still that rare hybrid case, and perhaps by that unintentional stroke of genius, in which one's work uncontrollably becomes both popular and dignified yet beyond its time.”

“We’re at church, for god sakes!” she hissed. “This isn’t right.” He shifted just so, his eyes narrowed with stubborn determination. “Why? God is love. God nurtures love. And, I love you, Elaine Pearson, and not just for your lovely body.” “You’re talking about sex, Ian.” He visually swept the church interior, noting the empty pews and flickering candles. “No, ma’am, I’m not,” he murmured, turning his attention back to her. “Sexual attraction is only a fraction of what flows between us. My body responds to you on a physical level, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in love with your mind and your soul. Remember that,” he stated with conviction, his words sounding like an order. "I can get inside your head, love. You and I are connected in the stars—whether or not you believe that singular truth is irrelevant. What we are…who we are…together…transcends the past. Every experience led us here. You need to stop fighting me…yourself…and us.”

“I want you, Elaine. I want your mind, your soul, your body. I want you as my mate. I offer you my soul—right now. Right here. Take it all—take everything I am,” he murmured, his lips grazing the corner of her mouth. “…and I’ll even let you keep your clothes on.” She looked up at him, gasping at his boldness. In that instance, Ian’s lips slanted across hers in a consuming, mind-numbing, heart-stopping kiss. She moaned against his mouth, drinking in his groan before pulling back, chest heaving. “We’re in church, Ian,” she panted. “God can hear us.” His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I’m counting on that, love.”

“If you're still hungry, I have some apples for dessert." She held one out that was a mix of reds and greens with a hint of gold. "These are Red Fire apples." Henri took a bite. "That's heaven. What did you call it? A Red Fire? I've never had anything like it." "They're only grown in our kingdom. My mother was the one who created the hybrid," Snow said proudly. She used to beg her parents to tell her the story of their courtship over and over. She could picture her mother laughing. Snow, there must be something else you want to talk about! "It's what you get when you cross red apple seeds with some pears and green apple seeds," Snow told Henri now. "She came up with it at the apple orchard she helped tend when she was my age. My father loved them and had them planted all over the countryside." Snow picked up one and stared at it. "It was the Red Fire apple that endeared my mother to my father, actually. He adored her apples." Henri smirked. "So it was love at first bite?" She laughed. "I suppose so!”

“Cook had seen an avocado before, but not like this---so smooth, so green. The fruit took an express route to the greenhouse, where workers propagated the seeds, first in soil, and then suspended slightly in water. Fairchild had included written instructions that only mature trees would fruit, after several years, not months. He advised that as soon as the seedlings grew reasonable roots, they should be shipped to experiment stations in California to be shared with farmers interested in experimental crops. Cook complied, and then mostly forgot about the avocado. In California, that single shipment helped build an industry. Other avocados turned up as well, from travelers or tourists who packed the oversized seeds as souvenirs. There were one-off stories that avocados had been spotted in America before, in Hollywood in 1886 or near Miami in 1894. But none were as sturdy as Fairchild's Chilean variety, prized for its versatility, color, and flavor---résumé of strong pedigree. Fairchild's avocado would turn out to be a mix of a Guatemalan avocado and a Mexican avocado and to have been only a short-term tenant in Chilean soil before Fairchild picked it up. But as with most popular fruits, the true geographic origin faded into irrelevance. Farmers and early geneticists dissected this sample and ones that came after it to create newer cultivars attuned to more specialized climates or tastes. This work yielded a twentieth-century variety called Fuerte, Spanish for "strong," growable in the coldest conditions ever tested on an avocado. It fell from favor after proving unable to ship even modest distances without bruising.”

“I sampled soft cheesecake, served elegantly spilling out of a highball glass turned on its side, with bits of huckleberry compote, crushed walnuts, and lemon foam. The white miso semifreddo, two fine slices of olive oil cake, which sat on a bed of crushed almonds alongside raspberry sorbet. And lastly, the über-rich chocolate ganache cake, which was similar to the dish I'd had years earlier at p*ong, but was now paired with green tea ice cream, crackly caramel crunches, and malted chocolate bits.”

“Everyone around him had some use, some mighty skill. And yet there I was... nothing more than a strange hybrid. More trouble than I was worth. 'You're not,' he said. 'Don't read my thoughts.' 'I can't help what you sometimes shout down the bond. And besides, everything is usually written on your face, if you know where to look. Which made your performance today so much more impressive.”

“There is a plant called the ghost pipe, because it is ghostly white, almost blue. Were you to cut open this flower and study it, you'd find no chlorophyll inside. It can grow in the dark, under the cover of fallen leaves and undergrowth in forests, under soil. It doesn't need to photosynthesize, because it is a parasite. It uses fungal networks to suck energy from photosynthesizing trees. Its roots look like clusters of tiny fingers that grope toward and connect with huge white webs of fungus that in turn connect with the thick roots of trees.”

“Las personas ordinarias presuponen la existencia de hombres-lobo mágicos. Prefieren creer en la supuesta maldición. Y no hay nada mágico en esto. Nos multiplicamos haciendo bebés, no mordiendo. Somos individuos únicos e irreemplazables, inteligentes, con deseos y secretos. Pensamos, hablamos, vivimos. Muchos de nosotros estudiamos, trabajamos, tenemos familias. Convivimos con otros seres humanos. Quizá nacemos equipados para sobrevivir (o quizá, para escondernos) en condiciones extremas, pero también tenemos hambre, sufrimos frío y calor, nos cansamos, nos da sueño. Nos enfermamos. Nos enojamos. Luchamos. Reímos, lloramos. Nos enamoramos, odiamos. Morimos. Especialmente, eso: somos seres mortales de esta tierra. -Nikolai Valinchenko-”

“By consequence I hold that no one ever did, or can do, anything for "society."... Comte invented the term altruism as an antonym for egoism, and it found its way at once into everyone's mouth, although it is utterly devoid of meaning, since it points to nothing that ever existed in mankind; This hybrid or rather this degenerate form of hedonism served powerfully to invest collectivism's principles with a specious moral sanction, and collectivists naturally made the most of it.”

“You can really bring so much more to rock'n'roll. Rock'n'roll is the most accepting, is the most fertile ground for creating hybrid forms of music and hybrid forms of show, if you draw from many, many different wells. It's just unfortunate so many rock'n'roll stars only bother to learn how to play like Led Zeppelin and/or the Rolling Stones and that's what you get, disc after disc and show after show.”

“I don't remember the first image of a werewolf I saw, but I suspect it was the hybrid type, up on two legs, with long limbs, hair, claw-like fingernails and lupine head. To me there's nothing scary about complete transformation from human into wolf. Wolves aren't scary. They're dangerous, yes, but so are geese, in the wrong mood. What's scary is seeing the human in the wolf but knowing it's beyond the reach of reason or emotional appeal. That's where the horror and dread kicks in.”

“Often when you ask for one thing you receive another, this is the mysterious thing about prayer, we address them to heaven with some private intention, but they choose their own path, sometimes they delay, allowing other prayers to overtake them, frequently they overlap and become hybrid prayers of dubious origin, which quarrel and argue among themselves.”

“While greenies and their media flunkies continue to savage the gasoline-powered internal-combustion engine and rhapsodize about hybrids, hydrogen, electrics, natural gas, propane, nuclear, and God-knows-what-other panaceas, perhaps including bovine urine, there are no realistic, economically viable alternatives. None. Zero. Like it or not, as long as we remain dependent on the private automobile for transportation (roughly 80 percent of all movement in the nation is by car), we are harnessed to the IC gas engine.”

“The harsh reality is that America moves on four wheels, powered by conventional internal-combustion engines. At this point, while the elite media (excluding Newsweek) trumpet the benefits of hybrids and Ford and Toyota plan to lead the nation into a low-powered, high-mileage hybrid Utopia, the multitudes remain loyal to the gas-guzzling family bus in the driveway.”

“This is an important generation for the future of hybrid vehicles. With these models as well as the Ford Escape and the Honda Accord we're starting to see hybrid versions of mainstream vehicles. The auto makers are giving customers a direct choice: to opt for hybrid technology on a given model, or not. Will they pay the premium for the hybrid technology when everything else about the vehicle is the same?”

“I'm a hybrid-genre person, which a lot of people find confusing. I grew up listening to American country music and rock n' roll made between 1955 and 1959. The Everly Brothers and Chuck Berry were my first musical loves and are still what I am most moved by. Roy Orbison came a little bit later.”

“Miami Beach is a completely interesting hybrid because it is, on the one hand, a resort and, on the other hand, a real city. This condition of city and water on two sides I think is really amazing. And in the heart of that city, it has put an enormous convention center, an enormous physical presence.”