Took Quotes (page 49)
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Some junk novels were all about airports. Some junk novels were even called things like Airport. Why, then you might ask, was there no airport called Junk Novel? …Junk novels have been around for at least as long as non-junk novels, and airports haven’t been around for very long at all. But they both really took off at the same time. Readers of junk novels and people in airports wanted the same thing: escape, and quick transfer from one junk novel to another junk novel and from one...
Martin Amis
You see, he was going for the Holy Grail. The boys all took a flier at the Holy Grail now and then. It was a several years' cruise. They always put in the long absence snooping around, in the most conscientious way, though none of them had any idea where the Holy Grail really was, and I don't think any of them actually expected to find it, or would have known what to do with it if he had run across it.
Mark Twain
I didn’t know what to say to that. I just stared at him. He was right, of course he was right, but… “I can’t do my job like this.”
“No,” he said, “you can’t.”
Then suddenly I felt the first tear slide down my face.
“No crying,” he said.
Another tear joined the first. I fought not to wipe at them.
His hand dropped to his side and he took a deep breath. “That’s not fair. Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but you’re right, I think. I’m pregnant, damn it, not...
Laurell K. Hamilton
I found a Bill Evans record in the bookcase and was listening to it while drying my hair when I realized that it was the record I had played in Naoko's room on the night of her birthday, the night she cried and I took her in my arms. That had happened only six months earlier, but it felt like something from a much remoter past. Maybe it felt that way because I had thought about it so often-too often, to the point where it had distorted my sense of time.
Haruki Murakami
The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled - Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments.
Jack Kerouac
PANDARUSYou are such a woman! A man knows not at what ward youlie. CRESSIDAUpon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defendmy wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, todefend my beauty; and you, to defend all these; and at all thesewards I lie at, at a thousand watches. PANDARUSSay one of your watches. CRESSIDANay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of thechiefest of them too. If I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the...
William Shakespeare
It took a day to dismantle Lily's existence . . .striking the set of a play, humble, one-handed domestic drama, without permission from the cast. . . But her life, all lives, seemed tenuous when he saw how quickly, with what ease, all the trappings, all the fine details of a lifetime could be packed and scattered, or junked. . . Objects became junk as soon as they were separated from their owner and their pasts . . . As the shelves and drawers emptied, and the boxes and bags filled, he saw...
Ian Mcewan
Mama's love had always been the kind that acted itself out with soup pot and sewing basket. But now that these things were taken away, the love seemed as whole as before. She sat in her chair at the window and loved us. She loved the people she saw in the street-- and beyond: her love took in the city, the land of Holland, the world. And so I learned that love is larger than the walls which shut it in.
Corrie Ten Boom
The church and the whorehouse arrived in the Far West simultaneously. And each would have been horrified to think it was a different facet of the same thing. But surely they were both intended to accomplish the same thing: the singing, the devotion, the poetry of the churches took a man out of his bleakness for a time, and so did the brothels.
John Steinbeck
