Uncategorized Quotes - Page 139

Nature does not reveal her mysteries once and for all.

Seneca

If anyone views himself as being totally perfect in the actual sense of the word, he is undoubtedly imperfect in God's eyes. For the thought alone is one of presumption, impurity and imperfection. One may rightly strive for perfection pertaining to character and spirit, but must bear in mind that he will never reach its purest form within this human body. The fact that he has strived for it until the end has made him 'perfect' in the eyes of God.

Tanya R. Taylor

A wise man does not always admit to everything he knows. And sometimes an overly-credulous friend can be a source of mild amusement.”~Sherlock Holmes

Stephanie Osborn

...because wonder admits to the existence of mystery, and the recognition of mystery in the world allows the possibility of Truth.

Neely McIntire," I said, clamping a sweaty hand behind her neck. "Friendship be damned!"tHayden yanked me forward. I had time to make a very girly sound before his lips began to move furiously over mine. His touch left behind the tingle of cinnamon gum. One of his hands slowly slid down and pressed into the small of my back. For a second, I thought the sun had washed over me. But this heat cuddled around me, pushing its way through my clothes.t"Stmmmmp," I tried to say around his lips.tMy knees wobbled as he wound his fingers into the curls at my neck, holding my face firmly against his.t"No." The hot pressure of his hand increased. A rumbling protest came from his throat when I dug my nails into his collarbones.t"Lemme go," I managed to gasp when he kissed the corner of my mouth.t"No," he whispered. His voice became a yielding puff of smoke. It slipped into my ears and coaxed something familiar from the broken depths.tThe urge to fight drained away. This wisp of memory warmed me, relaxed tensed muscles, but tightened other places.tMy fists uncurled and gripped his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?"t"I want you to come back to me, Neely," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist to press our hips together. Fiery lips caressed my face and neck. "I know you're in there somewhere. Come back, come back, come back," he whispered between kisses.

K.D. Wood

Do you know why the lotus is one of my favorite flowers?" I cocked my head to one side so I could see his expression.tHe shook his head.t"This beautiful flower lives in the most vile, muddy water of swamps and bogs," I said and rubbed the smooth metal of the pendant between my fingers.tHe frowned.t"No, seriously... the grosser the environment, the better," I said.t"So let me get this straight. You like a flower that lives in disgusting places?" One of his eyebrows rose. "That ain't right."t"No, I love this flower," I corrected.tHe glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, "Seriously?"t"What?" You don't believe me?"t"Sure, I believe you. It's just weird."t"I'll tell you why, but only if you promise not to laugh," I said.tHe nodded.tTaking a cleansing breath, I rested my head against the seat, closed my eyes, and took that scary first step.t"This flower stays in the mud and muck all night long."tI peeked at him without moving my head. His face had become set in the smooth lines of one who listens intently.t"Then, at sunrise, it climbs toward the light and opens into a pristine bloom. After the sun goes down, the bloom sinks into the mire. Even though it spends the whole night underwater, the flower emerges every morning as beautiful as the day before." Smiling, I swiveled in my seat to face him. "I love this flower because it reminds me that we get second chances every day, no matter what muck life drags us through.

K.D. Wood

Sometimes you gotta say what's in your heart... And you have to stand for what you believe. No matter what." ~'Dr. Michael C. Anders,

Stephanie Osborn

I believe the Lord has chosen me to spread His word through my words and who am I to question His plans for me?

If it's any consolation, Princess, I think he's a supercilious, salacious sap.""You've been reading the dictionary!""My only hope of comprehending your conversation, my petite sesquipedalian.

Did somebody die?”“Yes,” I replied.“Who?” he asked, starting to freak out. I pulled out my notepad and asked him if he knew a Marcie Tucker. “Marcie? Hm, Marcie, it doesn't ring a bell but… Oh yeah, the temp who's filling in while my regular assistant is out, I think her name is Marcie. In fact, she was supposed to be here today. I was actually starting to worry that… Wait. Is she…”“Unfortunately yes,” I said, “Marcie was found in her apartment late last night uh… no longer alive.” My bedside manner has never been my strong suit.Dr. Taggart looked distressed and began to ramble incoherently for a minute. I let him work through it though, I figured it was his way of grieving. I wouldn't have even paid attention to it except for the fact that it was kind of goofily, ineptly… well, poignant:"Oh, uh, Oh my God. That's terrible. I uh… I hope she didn't have any family. I mean, I don't hope she didn't have any family, what I mean is, if she uh… if she didn't have any family then there would be nobody to get all bummed out about this and uh… you know, when something like this happens, you always think about the poor, heartbroken family, so uh… if she doesn't have any family then uh… the bright side would be that nobody would, you know, have to be all bummed out."Hm. I guess I never thought of it that way. Awkward wording aside, he's kind of got a point there.

Come in." The kid turned and walked toward the house. "I'll help you if I can." He paused, his brown eyes turned toward Stacy who now stood open-mouthed. "But you'll have to do something for me in return."tI frowned. "Like what?"t"Hide me from my mother," he said. His eyes were shiny with fresh tears.tI snorted. "Do you mean your mother, the beauty queen?"t"No," he said softly. His face suddenly seemed older. "I mean my mother, the monster.

K.D. Wood

Well, sir to say that when the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth, is to make the assumption, usually justified, that everything that is to be considered has indeed been considered. Let us suppose we have considered ten factors. Nine are clearly impossible. Is the tenth, however improbable, therefore true? What if there were an eleventh factor, and a twelfth, & a thirteenth...

God puzzled her and she was too ashamed of Him to say so.

Well, it is generally considered— though not always true— that the wife of a man so honoured is likely also to be worthy of the honour, and so it is accorded her. In the event it is false, and I have known that to be so in more than one circumstance , it is still accorded her in deference to her husband."~Sherlock Holmes, with respect to aristocratic titles

Stephanie Osborn

Watson fully comprehended the fact that occasionally it is useful for one’s adversaries to underestimate one’s abilities.”~Sherlock Holmes

Stephanie Osborn

I am looking forward to fully understanding what is occurring. Other than the fact that we are well over a century in my future—if it is MY future; in America, in an underground government facility of some sort near the Colorado Rocky Mountains, specifically Pikes Peak, so I assume the nearest city of any import to be Colorado Springs…I am afraid I have little grasp of your project.”~Sherlock Holmes

Stephanie Osborn

Suddenly the images in the center of the room became more than images. They solidified.

Stephanie Osborn

Death lurked everywhere. Death was alive and well.

That’s our cue,” Dr. Chadwick noted, managing to approximate a cheerful smile, addressing the room at large. “Everyone please stand behind the yellow line until the doors open. No food, drink, flash photography, or video cameras are permitted. Once aboard the ride, please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times until we come to a full and complete stop. Otherwise, they’re apt to end up in another universe somewhere without ya, and wouldn’t that fry your noggin?

Stephanie Osborn

Oh my God," Mrs. McIntire screamed. She'd dropped to her knees, the dark sand and water soaking into her jeans. "Neely!"tMr. McIntire held his wife while she screeched her daughter's name over and over. "She's going to be fine, sweetie," he kept saying.tI really wanted to believe him.t"Is she on the other side?" I paced the shore. I couldn't see anything except a piece of driftwood lying at the water's edge. "I don't see her."tMr. McIntire didn't answer, only pointed across the rolling water.tA log had washed up on the shore. It looked like maybe the water had rubbed all the bark off and left a naked, saturated trunk behind.t"Tell me where she is." Aggravated, I stared until my eyes blurred with stress. "All I see is a damn log."t"Son," Sheriff Mills said from behind me. "That ain't a log.

K.D. Wood

So much for the bimbo alert; if she read books like that, then there was a light on upstairs, above the splendid front porch.

She came through the door the moment my beer arrived. Fortyish, salon-blonde, spray tan, fake boobs and real diamonds. Anywhere else it would be a bimbo alert, but in Florida it was just protective coloration.

Quote taken from Chapter 1:"Alma idly wondered if he'd blow his nose, too.He did. Twice. He made it honk, the sound reminding Alma of Harpo Marx squeezing his bulb horn.Isabel darted a look at Alma, giving her the don’t-you-dare-giggle squint.Alma dug her fingernails into her palm, the inappropriate laugh rising from her throat as she looked up at the ceiling. Blue refolded his handkerchief and returned it to inside his seersucker jacket. Thankfully, Alma’s urge to laugh subsided.

I'd spent my whole career dealing with badasses taking care of my nine-month-old boy should be a lark.

If all goes well, we will be back in time for a proper memorial service [for your father], Ben. I promise."Ben looked up, and all the bitterness was gone from his eyes, replaced somehow by both resignation and determination."And if all doesn't go well?" he asked, tightening his grip on Coralee's trusting hand as he led her outside to the driveway.Kira's flawless features morphed into something like a smile, yet wholly without happiness or humor."Then you'll all be meeting up with [your father] soon enough, I expect. Either that, or you shall wish it was so.

Covert operations relied on the unguarded slip, the unconscious choosing of one word over another.

Rosy’s mummy hands Franny a clear plastic bag full of reject biscuits, then Rosy holds her cheek out for Franny’s wet kiss. Rosy wipes the slime from her face and Franny cackles, then shows them both into the lounge.There on Franny’s coffee table is a biscuit tin with a Christmas picture on the lid. Proper shop-bought biscuits, not factory rejects.“Please, may I have a biscuit?” Rosy says.“Oh, there are no biscuits in that my darling,” Franny says, and pulls the tin from Rosy’s prying fingers. Franny holds open the bag of crumb-speckled chocolate digestives. “Help yourself, my wee hen.”Rosy settles for a reject.Franny puts the Christmas tin up high, way up high, way out of reach.

Rosy waited as long as she dared then sat forward and let her eye rove Franny’s lounge, up and down the shelves, looking for something, not even sure she could bring herself to act if she saw it again, already convinced this was her worst ever idea

She loves mysteries so much, she became one.

The good thing about the aristocracy – German or English – was that they were easily traced, Mirabelle thought.

This investigation felt difficult, like driving in fog.

Soon he would be able to touch her, to feel the warmth of her blood. When the time came, nothing would stop him.

Caroline Mitchell

If I was in deep shit with Lilian before, I was snorkeling at the waste treatment plant now.

No wonder Thanksgiving was my favorite—you can't buy it, wrap it, or put it under a tree, and even the greeting card companies can't seem to make a buck off of it. It's just a meal, with people who you love and who love you back, no matter what.

Mirabelle was always an enigma, and he had the sense that if he pushed her, she’d bolt.

mysterious like the moon, she would delight you in her glow, her light alone can make you question yourself.. & who was she? She will never let you know.

It was said by Epicurus, and he was probably right, that all philosophy takes its origin from philosophical wonder. The man who has never at any time felt consciously struck by the extreme strangeness and oddity of the situation in which we are involved, we know not how, is a man with no affinity for philosophy - and has, by the way, little cause to worry. The unphilosophical and philosophical attitudes can be very sharply distinguished (with scarcely any intermediate forms) by the fact that the first accepts everything that happens as regards its general form, and finds occasion for surprise only in that special content by which something that happens here today differs from what happened there yesterday; whereas for the second, it is precisely the common features of all experience, such as characterise everything we encounter, which are the primary and most profound occasion for astonishment; indeed, one might almost say that it is the fact that anything is experienced and encounter at all.

Erwin Schrödinger

Do it once and do it right and do it quickly

Lee Child

Mystical experience needs some form of dogma in order not to dissipate into moments of spiritual intensity that are merely personal, and dogma needs regular infusions of unknowingness to keep from calcifying into the predictable, pontificating, and anti-intellectual services so common in mainstream American churches. So what does all this mean practically? It means that congregations must be conscious of the persistent and ineradicable loneliness that makes a person seek communion, with other people and with God, in the first place. It means that conservative churches that are infused with the bouncy brand of American optimism one finds in sales pitches are selling shit. It means that liberal churches that go months without mentioning the name of Jesus, much less the dying Christ, have no more spiritual purpose or significance than a local union hall. It means that we -- those of us who call ourselves Christians -- need a revolution in the way we worship. This could mean many different things -- poetry as liturgy, focused and extended silences, learning from other religious traditions and rituals (this seems crucial), incorporating apophatic language. But one thing it means for sure: we must be conscious of language as language, must call into question every word we use until we refine or remake a language that is fit for our particular religious doubts and despairs -- and of course (and most of all!) our joys.

Christian Wiman

What's the best place to hide a car? In an airport long-term lot. Like where's the best place to hide a grain of sand? On the beach

Lee Child

Do you get a percentage for every soul you corrupt or is this just how you get your kicks?” I enquired.“Take it as a compliment. I only try to corrupt people I like.

I would appreciate it if they would call a halt on all their devoted efforts to find a way to abolish war or eliminate disease or run trains with atoms or extend the span of the human life to a couple of centuries, and everybody concentrate for a while on how to wake me up in the morning without my resenting it.

Rex Stout

...every life is like a snowflake: individual existences might look identical from afar, but to understand one´s own eternally mysterious uniqueness one had only to plot the mysteries of one´s own snowflake.

Will there be cheese?" asked Chisolm.

I’m after a mugger,” said Scout.“A hugger?” said Clyde. He was a little deaf. “I would imagine you receive plenty of hugs. They probably come to you. Why would you have to go after them?”“NO!” said Ike. “MMMMugger, you nitwit.” He made m-m-m-m noises with his lips.

From Chapter 11 "Rainy Day Puppy" ("The Missing Tulip Bulbs"): The next few days were hard on the family. It rained. It was cold. Winter had returned. The puppy grew and gained energy equal to a neutron bomb. He bounced and chewed and barked.Everyone was exhausted, except for the puppy. -

Maybe life isn't for everyone,Sometimes you do things to start anew life.But the new paths will always bring you back to the old ones or just show a glimpse of it so that you again go through those thousand memories.and no matter how much you try to get rid of the old shoe, Life will bring you to a certain point where you would want to throw off the new shoe and wear the old one back again..and Maybe, maybe you would or maybe you would not.For who knows, We re mysterious beings in these mysterious world trying to figure out our existence.

Alamvusha

The people through which the Tradition of the Sun spoke were people just like anyone else, and who, one morning or one evening, looked at the world and felt the presence of something greater. They had unwittingly plunged into an unknown sea, and, for the most part, they did not do so again. Everyone, at least once in each incarnation, possessed the secret of the Universe.

what are you thinking, Amy? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we ddone to each other? What will we do?

The tale of a righteous leftist - THE BRAND DEMAND

Spooky things, people, places, scents and sounds together or alone can create a powerful adrenalin rush and it floods the senses.

Buddy ran down the road, turned into another street, and vanished as if he had never been there, like another ghost from New Orleans's past.

Madness is loving the unsolvable puzzle of your soul and replacing the lost pieces with my own.

Shannon L. Alder

Jackson watched in amazement that she had convinced the driver to handle the vehicle in such a way. Tourists began taking pictures of Imogene, standing tall in the seat while the driver guided the horse with the reins. She kept her eye trained on Catfish, describing his every step as if the driver couldn’t see the runner for himself … Catfish stopped at the “T” in the road up ahead. He was heaving air, and Imogene said, “We’ve worn him out, son. Keep on him. He’s ours for the catchin’.

It's goddamned funny in this police racket how an old woman can look out of a window and see a guy running and pick him out of a line-up six months later, but we can show hotel help a clear photo and they just can't be sure.''That's one of the qualifications for good hotel help,' I said.

Raymond Chandler

Sometimes people do misguided things for the most honorable of reasons.

You are an exceedingly beautiful mystery, one that intrigues me and one that I plan to solve.

Lucy in the sky. Without her I am the walrus, likely to lose myself in dark gibberish and fade away.” Lance Underphal, Cut-Throat Syndrome.

Michael Allan Scott

It is another unsolved mystery in a world full of unsolved mysteries.Now stand up and walk out the way you came, and the moment that fresh air caresses your face, you will realize that that is what makes the world so beautiful. All those unsolved mysteries. And you won't ever want to interfere with that beauty again.

Matt Haig

He had an overwhelming urge to take possession of her lips, silencing any mention of another man’s name.

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