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Handful Quotes (page 72)

My favorite “trick” is to stop writing at a point where I know that I can pick up easily the next day. I’ll stop in mid-paragraph, often in midsentence. It makes getting out of bed so much easier, because I know that all I’ll have to do to be productive is complete the sentence. And by then I’ll be seated at my desk, coffee and Oreo cookie at hand, the morning’s inertia overcome. There’s an added advantage: The human brain hates incomplete sentences. All night my mind will have secretly... Erik Larson
Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn’t a mask, it couldn’t be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn’t a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher’s knife. It was the knife that, a... Robert Bloch
One of the methods used by statists to destroy capitalism consists in establishing controls that tie a given industry hand and foot, making it unable to solve its problems, then declaring that freedom has failed and stronger controls are necessary.”=Ayn Rand Ayn Rand
There's no point in comforting words, in telling her she'll be all right. She's no fool. Her hand reaches out and I clutch it like a lifeline. As if it's me who's dying instead of Rue. Suzanne Collins
Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim's place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means... Suzanne Collins
I was scared. Do you know what it's like to hold someone else's life inyour hands? It's like playing God. Can you think of anything scarier thanthat? Sidney Sheldon
First draft: let it run. Turn all the knobs up to 11. Second draft: hell. Cut it down and cut it into shape. Third draft: comb its nose and blow its hair. I usually find that most of the book will have handed itself to me on that first draft. Terry Prachett
For all my love little monsters i am your mom you are my child in my hand i protect you like my eyes but dont worry ill cacth you if you fall. Lady Gaga
I went, and knelt, and scooped my hand. As if to drink, into the brook, And a faint figure seemed to stand. Above me, with the bygone look. Thomas Hardy
PAVILIONS OF SUN"Swans do fly High above you All the time. Prince of Sun From his pavilion Makes you shine Come, come, come into my garden, lady love Maybe I can hold your gold hand Glide within my gold grove, lady love Know the earth and you'll understand Marc Bolan
I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me."His pupils contract to pinpoints, dialate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs. Suzanne Collins
One day a hummingbird flew in--It fluttered against the window til I got it down where I could reach it with an open umbrella----When I had it in my hand it was so small I couldn't believe I had it--but I could feel the intense life--so intense and so tiny--...You were like the humming bird to me...And I am rather inclined to feel that you and I know the best part of one another without spending much time together----It is not that I fear the knowing--It is that I am at this moment willing to... Georgia O'Keeffe
Ian Mcewan quote: "beauty, she had discovered occupied a narrow band. Ugliness,..."
...beauty, she had discovered occupied a narrow band. Ugliness, on the hand, had infinite variation. Ian Mcewan
She is older than the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for strange webs with Eastern merchants, and, as Leda, was the mother of Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary; and all this has been to her but as the sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only in the delicacy with which it has molded the changing... Walter Pater
The sick do not ask if the hand that smoothes their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin. Oscar Wilde

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