Quotes by American Authors - Page 91

My heart might very well beat itself from my chest," she whispered, "and 'tis difficult to breathe.""How odd." Passion thickened his voice. "I seem to be suffering the same symptoms. Does anything else plague you?""A terrible weakness," she whispered shakily. "If you let me go, I am not entirely certain I shall be able to stand."He buried his face in her neck. "Then I shall never let you go.
Jo Grafford
Sheer male interest filled his gaze which was entirely focused on her. She'd never before felt so female, so utterly desirable, so wanton.
Jo Grafford
I was not being mean. Mean was her mother giving her the name Bernice Woodward.Ryals, R.K.. Cursed (The Thorne Trilogy Book 1) (Kindle Locations 66-67). . Kindle Edition.
R.K. Ryals
If I get in the water in this outfit, the cloth will turn completely transparent.""I know, and I'm looking forward to it more than you can imagine.
C.L. Wilson
It was Jaenelle's voice, but...She was medium height, slender, and fair-skinned. Her gold mane--not quite hair and not quite fur--was brushed up and back from her exotic face and didn't hide the delicately pointed ears. In the center of her forehead was a tiny, spiral horn. A narrow strip of gold fur traced her spine, ending in a small gold and white fawn tail that flicked over her bare buttocks. The legs were human and shapely, but changed below the calf. Instead of feet, she had dainty horse's hooves. Her human hands had sheathed claws like a cat's. As she shifted position to slip another shard into place, he saw the small, round breasts, the feminine curve of waist and hips, the dark-gold triangle of hair between her legs.Who...?But he knew. Even before she walked over and looked at him, even before he saw the feral intelligence in those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes, he knew. Terrifying and beautiful. Human and Other. Gentle and violent. Innocent and wise.*I am Witch,* she said, a small, defiant quiver in her voice.*I know.* His voice had a seductive throb in it, a hunger he couldn't control or mask.
Anne Bishop
Sometimes the most remarkable things seem commonplace. I mean, when you think about it, jet travel is pretty freaking remarkable. You get in a plane, it defies the gravity of an entire planet by exploiting a loophole with air pressure, and it flies across distances that would take months or years to cross by any means of travel that has been significant for more than a century or three. You hurtle above the earth at enough speed to kill you instantly should you bump into something, and you can only breathe because someone built you a really good tin can that has seams tight enough to hold in a decent amount of air. Hundreds of millions of man-hours of work and struggle and research, blood, sweat, tears, and lives have gone into the history of air travel, and it has totally revolutionized the face of our planet and societies.But get on any flight in the country, and I absolutely promise you that you will find someone who, in the face of all that incredible achievement, will be willing to complain about the drinks.The drinks, people.That was me on the staircase to Chicago-Over-Chicago. Yes, I was standing on nothing but congealed starlight. Yes, I was walking up through a savage storm, the wind threatening to tear me off and throw me into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan far below. Yes, I was using a legendary and enchanted means of travel to transcend the border between one dimension and the next, and on my way to an epic struggle between ancient and elemental forces.But all I could think to say, between panting breaths, was, 'Yeah. Sure. They couldn’t possibly have made this an escalator.
Jim Butcher
Please," her shadow begged.tLaughingstock for sure.t"I can't give you what you want," Cam said. "You know that." She had to know that.
Erin Kellison
Don't be anyone's firefly in a jar! A lot of people are attracted to the light. Some are also intimidated by it. They selfishly try to keep it for themselves. Sometimes it happens so fast, you don't even realize you're being captured. There is magic within you that will suffocate in a jar. If you wake up one morning and realize there's a lid above you, do whatever it takes to free yourself. Life is much better beyond the jar. The world needs your light! Shine, Baby, shine!
Sheri Fink
He understood her affinity to the water, inspiring as it was beautiful, and soothing to the soul. Standing there that morning, he realized he would never be able to look at the ocean again without thinking of her, and somehow he was still comforted by that thought.
D.A. Henneman
If one squinted in Cabeswater long enough, in the right way, one could see secrets dart between the trees. The shadows of horned animals that never appeared. The winking lights of another summer's fireflies. The rushing sound of many wings, the sound of a massive flock always out of sight. Magic.
Maggie Stiefvater
If one squinted into Cabeswater long enough, in the right way, one could see secrets dart between the trees. The shadows of horned animals that never appeared. The winking lights of another summer's fireflies. The rushing sound of many wings, the sound of a massive flock always out of sight. Magic.
Maggie Stiefvater
You have such an odd relationship to your environment," mused the man. "Such a paranoid relationship. You seem intent on existing in smaller and smaller spaces, filled with more and more gadgets, with the mistaken impression that this will give you more control over your lives. There's something a little impious about it.""Nothing wrong with gadgets," muttered Alif."No, except that they're not magic," said the man, "and a lot of you seem to believe they should be.
G. Willow Wilson
Chickens can move and flop for hours after their heads are cut off. They have no heartbeat either," Naja said, "and that doesn't involve magic.
Terry Goodkind
Too many cold, hungry nights had taught her a special kind of practicality, but in that moment, she believed in his magic.
Laura Trentham
She blames herself. I hurt from knowing that I hurt her. Even when we know all of these other people are to blame. My friends. The media. Not her. Not me.I can’t help myself. I continue the cycle and I say, “I don’t want to hurt you.”Lily is quiet for a moment before she says, “I’m tougher than you think. You just need to believe in me. You know, like a fairy.”I do believe in fairies. I do. I do. The jubilant chorus from Peter Pan fills my ears.I look up at her, tears in both our eyes. Is that how we end this? I trust that I can share my grief with her and that she won’t crumble beneath the pain?She nods to me like go on. I can handle it.
Becca Ritchie & Kristia Ritchie
Albert died in an unfortunate accident sometime ago and was raised as a zombie by his amateur necromancer friend, Neil. Bubba was a new friend we had acquired in Vegas when helping him gain back the freedom he had previously gambled away. The fourth member of our group, a government agent and my girlfriend named Krystal, was out of town for work this week, thus I was conducting my first weekly scrabble tournament with just the three of us. Which leaves only me to be accounted for in the explanation. My name. which I hope you know by now. is Frederick Frankford Fletcher and I am a vampire, though still not the type that inspires swooning or terror.
Drew Hayes
You’re a good man who happens to be a vampire. We aren’t human, but that doesn’t make us monsters.
Drew Hayes
Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long.
Drew Hayes
I don’t know why it’s not universally acknowledged that looking back is a terrible idea. It only makes going forward that much harder.
Amanda Bouchet
You will come to the woods and choose your mate.
Molly Ringle
The core practice of magic is: The execution of a willed intent to create change in the material world, which either defies, hastens or purifies the consequences of natural cause and effect.
Zeena Schreck
You want me to go back into that house protected by a magic sticky note?”“Don’t even start,” I told him. “It’s working. If it weren’t working, you couldn’t drag me into that place.”“What did you write on here? ‘Don’t die’?”“No, I wrote, ‘Don’t be an a-hole!’” I headed for the house.“On yours or mine?”“On yours.”“Well, in that case, your magic isn’t working. I’m still an asshole.
Ilona Andrews
So, what can I do?” I asked.“Annoy?”I gave him a hurt look.Justus pulled the tip of his hoodie over his eye and lowered his voice. “It remains to be seen; sometimes it takes years to uncover abilities.”“Maybe I can’t do anything.”His blue eyes flashed up to mine. “Learner, we are all gifted.
Dannika Dark
Seven, Richie thought. That's the magic number. There has to be seven of us. That's the way it's supposed to be.
Stephen King
She went to the window. A fine sheen of sugary frost covered everything in sight, and white smoke rose from chimneys in the valley below the resort town. The window opened to a rush of sharp early November air that would have the town in a flurry of activity, anticipating the tourists the colder weather always brought to the high mountains of North Carolina. She stuck her head out and took a deep breath. If she could eat the cold air, she would. She thought cold snaps were like cookies, like gingersnaps. In her mind they were made with white chocolate chunks and had a cool, brittle vanilla frosting. They melted like snow in her mouth, turning creamy and warm.
Sarah Addison Allen
That's how I do this life sometimes by making the ordinary just like magic and just like a card trick and just like a mirror and just like the disappearing. Every Indian learns how to be a magician and learns how to misdirect attention and the dark hand is always quicker than the white eye and no matter how close you get to my heart you will never find out my secrets and I'll never tell you and I'll never show you the same trick twice. I'm traveling heavy with illusions.
Sherman Alexie
The magic of the street is the mingling of the errand and the epiphany.
Rebecca Solnit
It rained toads the day the White Council came to town.
Jim Butcher
But you must not change one thing, one pebble, one grain of sand, until you know what good and evil will follow on that act. The world is in balance, in Equilibrium. A wizard's power of Changing and Summoning can shake the balance of the world. It is dangerous, that power...It must follow knowledge, and serve need.
Ursula K Le Guin
The door opened. She looked in the mirror and suppressed a curse. Slipping in behind some tourists, that winged shadow was back again. Karou rose and made for the bathroom, where she took the note that Kishmish had come to de
Laini Taylor
As I look out at all of you gathered here, I want to say that I don't see a room full of Parisians in top hats and diamonds and silk dresses. I don't see bankers and housewives and store clerks. No. I address you all tonight as you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, and magicians. You are the true dreamers.
Brian Selznick
I now know how your angercame from skeletonsthat rattled in your heartand you couldn't escape them.
Susie Clevenger
There are two types of memory frequently experienced by individuals who have had overwhelming trauma that has been suppressed psychologically or chemically. The first is general memory, experienced as an adult, in which there is a natural recall of early events. The other is the memory that is often associated with post traumatic stress syndrome (PTSS). The person suddenly smells, sees and feels as though he or she is actually living the event that took place months or years earlier.Many soldiers who survived horrifying combat experiences have PTSS. This has frequently been discussed in terms of Vietnam veterans who suddenly mentally find themselves in the jungle, hiding from the enemy or assaulting people they see as a threat. The fact that they have not been in Vietnam for decades and that they are experiencing the flashbacks in shopping malls, at home or at work does not change what they are mentally reliving. But PTSS has existed for centuries and has affected men, women and children in the midst of all wars, horrifying natural disasters and other traumatic experiences. This includes physical and sexual abuse when growing up.the PTSS Cheryl was experiencing more and more frequently, in which she found herself seeing, feeling and re-experiencing events from her childhood and adolescence had become overwhelming. She knew she needed to get help.
Cheryl Hersha
Stains tell a story,” Zac said, waving his arms as he spoke. “My car is full of random stains.
Shana Norris
We propose that use of the term “false memory” to describe errors in memory for details directly contributes to removing the social context of abuse from research on memory for trauma. As the term “false memories” has increasingly been used to describe errors in details, the scientific weight of the term has increased. In turn, we see that the term “false memories” is treated as a construct supported by scientific fact, whereas other terms associated with questions about the veracity of abuse memories have been treated as suspect. For example, “recovered memories” often appears in quotations, whereas “false memories” does not (Campbell, 2003).The quotation marks suggest that one term is questioned, whereas the other is accepted as fact. Accepting “false memories” of abuse as fact reflects the subtle assimilation of the term into the cognitive literature, where the term is used increasingly to describe intrusions of semantically related words into lists of related words. The term, rooted in the controversy over the accuracy of abuse memories recalled during psychotherapy (Schacter, 1999), implies generalization of errors in details to memory for abuse—experienced largely by women and children (Campbell, 2003)."from: What's in a Name for Memory Errors? Implications and Ethical Issues Arising From the Use of the Term “False Memory” for Errors in Memory for Details, Journal: Ethics & Behavior
Jennifer J. Freyd
I've worked hard to remember it...The problem is I'm not sure what's real memory and what's my brain filling in details, like a guy whose heart stops and he thinks he sees a bright light. Except I'm sure of my bright light.
Phil Klay
She used to wander through the past as often as it beckoned her, bemoaning the loss of nostalgia. Then, for a while, she turned from it, blissfully free of its noxious clutch, and now it's back, taunting her with what she left behind, knowing she can never recapture what's gone.
Donna Lynn Hope
And I try to remember if this happened before, because this is a memory I would want to keep.But there is no echo of it in my mind.
Beth Revis
Maybe I have never had the Christmas I remember, since we never remember the event itself but just the last time we revisited the memory. I have woven together a few dozen scraps (the Sears catalog, my father videoing everything we did, Christmas parties and visits with Santa) and pretended they amount to one perfect, cohesive moment, but I am as guilty as baby-boomers, who dictated unconsciously that all the songs they listened to in 1963 would be the timeless Christmas standards of today.
Thomm Quackenbush
Fame is like drifting clouds, transient and ephemeral. Memory is forever.
Debasish Mridha
Time's arrow is the loss of fidelity in compression. A sketch, not a photograph. A memory is a re-creation, precious because it is both more and less than the original.
Ken Liu
The traumatic moment becomes encoded in an abnormal form of memory, which breaks spontaneously into consciouness, both as flashbacks during waking states and as traumatic nightmares during sleep. Small, seemingly insignificant reminders can also evoke these memories, which often return with all the vividness and emotional force of the original event. Thus, even normally safe environments may come to feel dangerous, for the survivor can never be assured that she will not encounter some reminder of the trauma.
Judith Lewis Herman
She saw how the mind makes forever, in order to store the things it had already lost.
Richard Powers
It is dangerous to use our own ability to access non-traumatic memories as a standard against which we judge a trauma victim’s response.
David Yeung
A mind wanders, thoughts flee and memories fade. But tattoos, tattoos are forever. And if it is true to say that we carry ourselves with when we travel - then the body may very well be a beautiful canvas for the timeless lessons we learn and will learn when we travel.
lauren klarfeld
If you knew you were going to lose your memorybut you could choose five things you’d never forget, what would they be—a certain face, a taste, a scent,a touch; how deepin this, the middle of your life?
Kristen Henderson
I'd seen old Yardley Slickers- the makeup now just a waxy crumble- sell for almost one hundred dollars on the internet. So grown women could smell it again, that chemical, flowery fug. That's how badly people wanted it- to know that their lives had happened, that the person they once had been, still existed inside of them. There were so many things that returned me. The tang of soy, the smoke in someone's hair, the grassy hills turning blond in June. An arrangement of oaks and boulders could, seen out of the corner of my eye, crack open something in my chest, palms going suddenly slick with adrenaline.
Emma Cline
A chair can be more valuable in memories than, say, a precious gem. A gem could have no stories to share; no lives altered or changed in the slightest. It could remain buried beneath the earth for all we know and never have any memory to embody. A chair could transcend time and generations; from the people who sat in it and onlookers. It's all about considering what stories could be told if they had voices of their own.
Lauren Lola
The ceilings had set off a ghostly echo, giving all that desperate hilarity the quality of a memory even as I sat listening to it, memories of things I'd never known.
Donna Tartt
All of a sudden, images from every crime movie I'd ever seen began to pop into my mind—the windowless room, the harsh lights and narrow hallways, images which did not seem so much theatrical or foreign as imbued with the indelible quality of memory, of experience lived.
Donna Tartt
But walking through it all was one thing; walking away, unfortunately, has proved to be quite another, and though once I thought I had left that ravine forever on an April afternoon long ago, now I am not so sure. Now the searchers have departed, and life has grown quiet around me, I have come to realize that while for years I might have imagined myself to be somewhere else, in reality I have been there all the time: up at the top by the muddy wheel-ruts in the new grass, where the sky is dark over the shivering apple blossoms and the first chill of the snow that will fall that night is already in the air.
Donna Tartt
I believe there are visions that come to us only in memory, in retrospect.
Marilynne Robinson
Memory was a slippery thing—slick moss on an unstable slope—and it was ever so easy to lose one’s footing and fall
Kelly Barnhill
And because I found it in my youth, the bar was that much more sacred, its image clouded by that special reverence children accord those places where they feel safe. Others might feel this way about a classroom or playground, a theater or church, a laboratory or library or stadium. Even a home. But none of these places claimed me. We exalt what is at hand. Had I grown up beside a river or an ocean, some natural avenue of self-discovery and escape, I might have mythologized it. Instead I grew up 142 steps from a glorious old American tavern, and that has made all the difference.
J.R. Moehringer
This time of year, the purple blooms were busy with life- not just the bees, but butterflies and ladybugs, skippers and emerald-toned beetles, flitting hummingbirds and sapphire dragonflies. The sun-warmed sweet haze of the blossoms filled the air."When I was a kid," said Isabel, "I used to capture butterflies, but I was afraid of the bees. I'm getting over that, though." The bees softly rose and hovered over the flowers, their steady hum oddly soothing. The quiet buzzing was the soundtrack of her girlhood summers. Even now, she could close her eyes and remember her walks with Bubbie, and how they would net a monarch or swallowtail butterfly, studying the creature in a big clear jar before setting it free again. They always set them free.As she watched the activity in the hedge, a memory floated up from the past- Bubbie, gently explaining to Isabel why they needed to open the jar. "No creature should ever be trapped against its will," she used to say. "It will ruin itself, just trying to escape." As a survivor of a concentration camp, Bubbie only ever spoke of the experience in the most oblique of terms.
Susan Wiggs
Infancy is irretrievable. Its memories live underground. To what extent they return by stealth or are triggered by various catalysts remains an ongoing question.
Siri Hustvedt
The only thing faster than the speed of thought is the speed of forgetfulness. Good thing we have other people to help us remember.
Vera Nazarian
When the cold comes to New England it arrives in sheets of sleet and ice. In December, the wind wraps itself around bare trees and twists in between husbands and wives asleep in their beds. It shakes the shingles from the roofs and sifts through cracks in the plaster. The only green things left are the holly bushes and the old boxwood hedges in the village, and these are often painted white with snow. Chipmunks and weasels come to nest in basements and barns; owls find their way into attics. At night,the dark is blue and bluer still, as sapphire of night.
Alice Hoffman
It's strange how memory gets twisted and pulled like taffy in its retelling, how a single event can mean something different to everyone present.
Lisa Unger
Seth: "I write of love in my novels, write of it well, if my critics and fans are to be believed, but in all of my years at that typewriter, I never found the combination of words that would convey how I felt about you. You were my everything.
Lissa Bryan