Eighteen Quotes
Eighteen luscuios scrumpitous flavors, Chocolate, Lime and CherryCoffee, Pumpkin, Fudge-Banana, Caramel Cream and boysenberry. Rocky Road and Toasted Almond, Butterscotch, Vanilla Dip, Butter Brinkle, Apple Ripple, Coconut, and Mocha Chip, Brandy Peach and Lemon Custard. Each scoop lovely. smooth and round. Tallest cream cone in town lying there on the ground.
Shel Silverstein
Halfway through April Naoko turned twenty. She was seven months older than I was, my own birthday being in November. There was something strange about Naoko's becoming twenty. I felt as if the only thing that made sense, whether for Naoko or for me, was to keep going back and forth between eighteen and nineteen. After eighteen would come nineteen, and after nineteen, eighteen. Of course. But she turned twenty. And in the fall, I would do the same. Only the dead stay seventeen forever.
Haruki Murakami
This is nine! Nine! This is nine! Nine! This is ten! Ten! We have killed your friends! Every friend is now dead! This is six! Six!"[...]"Eighteen! This is now eighteen! Take cover when the siren sounds! This is four! Four!"[...]"Five! This is five! Ignore the siren! Even if you leave this room, you can never leave this room! Eight! This is eight!"[...]"Six!' the phone screamed. 'Six, this is six, this is goddam fucking SIX!
Stephen King
In this way, his unhappy soul struggled with its anguish. Eighteen hundred years before this unfortunate man, the mysterious Being, in whom all the sanctities and all the sufferings of humanity come together, He too, while the olive trees trembled in the fierce breath of the Infinite, had brushed away the fearful cup that appeared before him, streaming with shadow and running over with darkness, in the star-filled depths. (pg. 236)
Victor Hugo
We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no longer, we believe in the war." - All Quiet On The Western Front, Ch. 5
Erich Maria Remarque
Not to me," I said. Kafka wrote his first story in one night. Stendhal wrote TheCharterhouse of Parma in forty-nine days. Melville wrote Moby-Dick in sixteen months. Flaubert spent five years on MadameBovary. Musil worked for eighteen years on The Man WithoutQualities and died before he could finish. Do we care about anyof that now?
Paul Auster