Nevada Barcus > Nevada's Quotes

“Dictatorship of the majority over the minority would be an encroachment on the rights of the individual and their prerogative to personal freedom.”
― Newton Lee, Facebook Nation: Total Information Awareness

“As an emotional caretaker of her family, Jackie Kennedy was extraordinary. She defied the instructions of White House social advisers to make time for raising her children in as normal a way as possible. “If you bungle raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do matters very much.” – Jackie Kennedy”
― Anne Michaud, Why They Stay: Sex Scandals, Deals, and Hidden Agendas of Nine Political Wives

“Happiness is knowing that someone, somewhere, really gives a shit.”
― Barry Kirwan, The Eden Paradox

“If I’ve learned one thing in Spain, it’s that we have to fight the Communists just as hard as the Fascists. They’re both evil.”
― Ken Follett, Winter of the World

“Well met, Mistress Lirael. This ragamuffin, as your servant so aptly described him, is His Highness Prince Sameth, the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Hence the bells. But on to more serious matters. Could you please rescue us? Prince Sameth's personal vessel is not quite what I'm used to, and he is eager to catch me a fish before my morning nap.”
― Garth Nix, Lirael

“Too much protocol.”
― Tracy Kidder, The Soul of a New Machine

“Entitled ‘My Country and Its Appeal’, she commented on China’s cultural icon Confucius: ‘His grossest mistake was the failure to regard womankind with due respect. We learn from observation that no nation can rise to distinction unless her women are educated and considered as man’s equal morally, socially, and intellectually … China’s progress must come largely through her educated women.”
― Jung Chang, Big Sister, Little Sister, Red Sister: Three Women at the Heart of Twentieth-Century China

“I could not comprehend the justice of that law, or that religion, which upholds or recognizes the principle of slavery;”
― Solomon Northup, 12 Years a Slave

“A real panic took hold of me. I didn't know where I was going. I ran along the docks, turned into the deserted streets in the Beauvoisis district; the houses watched my flight with their mournful eyes. I repeated with anguish: Where shall I go? where shall I go? Anything can happen. Sometimes, my heart pounding, I made a sudden right about turn: what was happening behind my back? Maybe it would start behind me and when I would turn around, suddenly, it would be too late. As long as I could stare at things nothing would happen: I looked at them as much as I could, pavements, houses, gaslights; my eyes went rapidly from one to the other, to catch them unawares, stop them in the midst of their metamorphosis. They didn't look too natural, but I told myself forcibly: this is a gaslight, this is a drinking fountain, and I tried to reduce them to their everyday aspect by the power of my gaze. Several times I came across barriers in my path: the Cafe des Bretons, the Bar de la Marine. I stopped, hesitated in front of their pink net curtains: perhaps these snug places had been spared, perhaps they still held a bit of yesterday's world, isolated, forgotten. But I would have to push the door open and enter. I didn't dare; I went on. Doors of houses frightened me especially. I was afraid they would open of themselves. I ended by walking in the middle of the street.
I suddenly came out on the Quai des Bassins du Nord. Fishing smacks and small yachts. I put my foot on a ring set in the stone. Here, far from houses, far from doors, I would have a moment of respite. A cork was floating on the calm, black speckled water.
"And under the water? You haven't thought what could be under the water."
A monster? A giant carapace? sunk in the mud? A dozen pairs of claws or fins labouring slowly in the slime. The monster rises. At the bottom of the water. I went nearer, watching every eddy and undulation. The cork stayed immobile among the black spots.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

“I remember Peyton [Manning] called me as soon as I got out to Denver. He started the conversation by asking me, ‘When did you get in?’ We mainly just talked to get familiar with each other.”
― Vernon Davis, Playing Ball: Life Lessons from My Journey to the Super Bowl and Beyond

“The first impressions with the ashram people
are these sparkling interior experiences. The eyeballs can be peepholes into the Milky Way and beyond. You may mumble under your breath that the ashram people could be on something.”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“Edward had used work and accomplishments throughout his life to keep the misery at bay. He’d endured so much heartache in the first eighteen years of life that he’d chosen to run from any further possibility of that happening again. Work was the way he accomplished that.”
― Steven Decker, One More Life to Live

“It is weird that the same two parents can come together and make two such different people.”
― Sara Pascoe, Weirdo

“The beautiful stranger cuddled Cindy, and she rocked the chair slightly as she spoke softly to her. “Suicide is a problem, not a solution. Humans you love would be hurt deeply if you left them. Becky Johnson and her parents would be crushed. Your grandparents in Florida never”
― Shafter Bailey, Cindy Divine: The Little Girl Who Frightened Kings

“  When we’re together, I feel like the sun just came out on a cloudy day.”
― Dawn Chalker, Lost and Found

“Soft skin warm against his nose, her pulse beating strong against his cheek, suddenly clear thinking and being the voice of reason were concepts as foreign as a different language.”
― Lotchie Burton, Gabriel's Fire

“Deliverance is not scary—it is the most beautiful, loving act of Jesus. It is the moment someone finally walks into the freedom that was always meant for them.”
― Kathryn Krick, Unlock Your Deliverance: Keys to Freedom From Demonic Oppression

“He summoned you into the circle, Scott. For whatever reason, I don't know. But now you've left, you've become a loose thread. He won't sit back with the possibility you might cause his whole world to unravel around him.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“Snake Street is an area I should avoid. Yet that night I was drawn there as surely as if I had an appointment. 
The Snake House is shabby on the outside to hide the wealth within. Everyone knows of the wealth, but facades, like the park’s wall, must be maintained. A lantern hung from the porch eaves. A sign, written in Utte, read ‘Kinship of the Serpent’. I stared at that sign, at that porch, at the door with its twisted handle, and wondered what the people inside would do if I entered. Would they remember me? Greet me as Kin? Or drive me out and curse me for faking my death?  Worse, would they expect me to redon the life I’ve shed? Staring at that sign, I pissed in the street like the Mearan savage I’ve become.
As I started to leave, I saw a woman sitting in the gutter. Her lamp attracted me. A memsa’s lamp, three tiny flames to signify the Holy Trinity of Faith, Purity, and Knowledge.  The woman wasn’t a memsa. Her young face was bruised and a gash on her throat had bloodied her clothing. Had she not been calmly assessing me, I would have believed the wound to be mortal. I offered her a copper. 
She refused, “I take naught for naught,” and began to remove trinkets from a cloth bag, displaying them for sale.
Her Utte accent had been enough to earn my coin. But to assuage her pride I commented on each of her worthless treasures, fighting the urge to speak Utte. (I spoke Universal with the accent of an upper class Mearan though I wondered if she had seen me wetting the cobblestones like a shameless commoner.) After she had arranged her wares, she looked up at me. “What do you desire, O Noble Born?”
I laughed, certain now that she had seen my act in front of the Snake House and, letting my accent match the coarseness of my dress, I again offered the copper.
 “Nay, Noble One. You must choose.” She lifted a strand of red beads. “These to adorn your lady’s bosom?”
            I shook my head. I wanted her lamp. But to steal the light from this woman ... I couldn’t ask for it. She reached into her bag once more and withdrew a book, leather-bound, the pages gilded on the edges. “Be this worthy of desire, Noble Born?”
 I stood stunned a moment, then touched the crescent stamped into the leather and asked if she’d stolen the book. She denied it. I’ve had the Training; she spoke truth. Yet how could she have come by a book bearing the Royal Seal of the Haesyl Line? I opened it. The pages were blank.
“Take it,” she urged. “Record your deeds for study. Lo, the steps of your life mark the journey of your soul.”
  I told her I couldn’t afford the book, but she smiled as if poverty were a blessing and said, “The price be one copper. Tis a wee price for salvation, Noble One.”
  So I bought this journal. I hide it under my mattress. When I lie awake at night, I feel the journal beneath my back and think of the woman who sold it to me. Damn her. She plagues my soul. I promised to return the next night, but I didn’t. I promised to record my deeds. But I can’t. The price is too high.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“All around us were people I had spent ten years avoiding--shapeless women in wool bathing suits, dull-eyed men with hairless legs and self-conscious laughs, all Americans, all fearsomely alike. These people should be kept at home, I thought; lock them in the basement of some goddamn Elks Club and keep them pacified with erotic movies; if they want a vacation, show them a foreign art film; and if they still aren't satisfied, send them into the wilderness and run them with vicious dogs.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary

“And then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me.”
― Bram Stoker, Dracula

“creative entitlement simply means believing that you are allowed to be here, and that—merely by being here—you are allowed to have a voice and a vision of your own.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

“I want to be gone out of myself, and you to be lost to yourself, so we are found different.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Women in Love

“I don’t want anyone else to understand it, because you only understand it when you have been welcomed into a club only the saddest people can enter. The cost of admission is the death of your loved one at the hands of someone else.”
― Dave Cullen, Columbine

“We give all we have, lives, property, safety, skill...we fight, we die, for a simple thing. Only that a man can stand up.”
― Esther Forbes, Johnny Tremain