Pieces Quotes - Page 40

• He splayed a hand out over the photographs, trembling fingers not quite touching the shiny surface, and then he turned and leaned toward me, slowly, with the improbable grace of a tall tree falling. He buried his face in my shoulder and went very quietly and thoroughly to pieces.

  Diana Gabaldon

  Fall, Hands, Tree

  Diana Gabaldon (2015). “The Outlander Series 8-Book Bundle: Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber, Voyager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross, A Breath of Snow and Ashes, An Echo in the Bone, Written in My Own Heart's Blood”, p.1700, Dell

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• She's afraid to tell me anything important, knowing I'll only turn around and write about it. In my mind, I'm like a friendly junkman, building things from the little pieces of scrap I find here and there, but my family's started to see things differently. Their personal lives are the so-called pieces of scrap I so casually pick up, and they're sick of it. More and more often their stories begin with the line "You have to swear you'll never repeat this." I always promise, but it's generally understood that my word means nothing.

  David Sedaris

  Writing, Mean, Knowing

  "Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim". Book by David Sedaris, June 1, 2004.

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• It used to be just CIA agents with ear-pieces who walked round with preoccupied, faraway expressions, and consequently regarded all the little people as irrelevant scum. Now, understandably, it's nearly everybody.

  Lynne Truss

  Expression, Cia Agents, People

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• When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear..." -Albus Dumbledore

  J. K. Rowling

  Lasts, Jigsaw, Clear

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• How could you make appeal to the future when not a trace of you, not even an anonymous word scribbled on a piece of paper, could physically survive?

  George Orwell

  Paper, Appeals

  George Orwell, A.M. Heath (2003). “Animal Farm and 1984”, p.129, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• We so seldom understand each other. But if understanding is neither here nor there, and the universe is infinite, then understand that no matter where we go we will always be smack dab in the middle of nowhere. All we can do is share some piece of ourselves, and hope that it’s remembered. Hope that we meant something to someone

  Shane Koyczan

  Understanding, Dabs, Middle Of Nowhere

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• when the fierce, burning winds blow over our lives-and we cannot prevent them-let us, too, accept the inevitable. And then get busy and pick up the pieces.

  Dale Carnegie

  Blow, Wind, Burning

  Dale Carnegie (2004). “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living”, p.244, Simon and Schuster

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• "I'm sure it is," she replied. Her expression turned fierce, making her look far different from the scattered teacher I knew. "But listen to me when I say this. You are exceptional, talented, and brilliant young woman. Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you're less. Do not ever let anyone make you feel invisible. Do not let anyone - not even a teacher who constantly sends you for coffee - push you around." She put her glasses back on and began randomly lifting up pieces of papers. At last, she found a pen and grinned triumphantly. "Now, then. What is your brother's name?"

  Richelle Mead

  Teacher, Brother, Coffee

  "Bloodlines". Book by Richelle Mead, August 23, 2011.

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• As Val jumped down onto the litter-strewn concrete after them, she thought how insane it was to follow two people she didn't know into the bowels of the subway, but instead of being afraid, she felt glad. She would make all her own decisions now, even if they were ruinous ones. It was the same pleasurable feeling as tearing a piece of paper into tiny, tiny pieces.

  Holly Black

  Two, People, Decision

  Holly Black (2012). “Valiant”, p.32, Simon and Schuster

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• I figure the world is basically a machine. I don't know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or the capital-G god or whatever. But it chugs along the way it's supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break off and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly... things happen for a reason.

  Rick Riordan

  Fate, Break Off, Littles

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• Thinking that it would console him, she took a piece of charcoal and erased the innumerable loves that he still owed her for, and she voluntarily brought up her own most solitary sadnesses so as not to leave him alone in his weeping.

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez

  Sadness, Thinking, Solitary

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez (2014). “One Hundred Years of Solitude”, p.339, Penguin UK

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• She had died peacefully, in her sleep, after an evening of listening to all of her favorite Fred Astaire songs, one crackling record after another. Once the last chord of the last piece had died out, she had stood up and opened the French doors to the garden outside, perhaps waiting to breathe in the honeysuckle one more time.

  Anne Fortier

  Song, Sleep, Garden

  Anne Fortier (2010). “Juliet: A Novel”, p.7, Ballantine Books

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• We do not accept a religion because it offers us certain rewards. The only thing that a religion can offer us is to be just what it, in itself, is: a greater meaning in ourselves, in our lives, and in our grasp of the nature of things...a religion exists for us only if, like a piece of poetry, it carries us away. It is not in any sense a 'hypothesis.

  Michael Polanyi

  Rewards, Accepting, Hypothesis

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• No matter how clear things might become in the forest of story, there was never a clear-cut solution, as there was in math. The role of a story was, in the broadest terms, to transpose a problem into another form. Depending on the nature and the direction of the problem, a solution might be suggested in the narrative. Tengo would return to the real world with that solution in hand. It was like a piece of paper bearing the indecipherable text of a magic spell. It served no immediate practical purpose, but it contained a possibility.

  Haruki Murakami

  Real, Cutting, Math

  "Town of Cats" by Haruki Murakami, www.newyorker.com. September 5, 2011.

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• And anyway, the truth isn't all that great. I mean, what's the truth? Planes falling out of the sky. Buses blowing up and ripping little kids into millions of pieces. Twelve-year-olds raping people and then shooting them in the head so they can't tell. I can't watch the news anymore or look at the papers. It's like whoever sits up there in Heaven has this big bag of really crappy stuff, and once or twice a day she or he reaches in and sprinkles a little bit of it over the world and makes everything crazy, like fairy dust that's past its expiration date.

  Michael Thomas Ford

  Crazy, Fall, Mean

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• His words were still clear in her mind from that first meeting. "Whoever eats this will love you." She looked into the mirror, at her birthmark, bright as blood, at her kiss-stung lips, at the absurd smile stretching across her face. Carefully separating out the crushed pieces of shell, she pulled the dried pulp free from its cage of veins. Piece by piece, she put the sweet brown fruit in her own mouth and swallowed it down.

  Holly Black

  Sweet, Love You, Kissing

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• There was a pause. I was still scared by every gap in our conversation, fearing that this was it, the point where we had nothing left to say. I was still trying to impress you, and I still wanted to be impressed by you, so I could pass along pieces of your impressiveness to my friends, convincing myself this was possible.

  David Levithan

  Trying, Gaps, Scared

  David Levithan (2011). “The Lover's Dictionary: A Novel”, p.15, Macmillan

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• It was a confirmation of a connection that already existed. And it was a bond that extended far beyond the borders of a shared living space. We would have stayed together even without a marriage certificate . . . but I believed in the permanence it represented. It was a piece of paper you could build a life on.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Space, Together, Connections

  Lisa Kleypas (2009). “Smooth Talking Stranger: A Novel”, p.362, Macmillan

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• When someone was so poor that he couldn't afford a horse, a tent or a blanket,
  he would, in that case, receive it all as a gift.

  John Fire Lame Deer

  Horse, Native American, Tents

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• That whole week, we started to divide things into those two categories: anything or something. A piece of jewelry bougth at a department store: anything. A piece of jewelry made by hand: something. A dollar: anything. A sand dollar: something. A gift certificate: anything. An IOU for two hours of starwatching: something. A drunk kiss at a party: anything. A sober kiss alone in a park: something.

  David Levithan

  Party, Kissing, Hands

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• Everything has two endings- a horse, a piece of string, a phone call. Before a life, air. And after. As silence is not silence, but a limit of hearing.

  Jane Hirshfield

  Horse, Two, Phones

  Jane Hirshfield (2011). “Come, Thief: Poems”, p.47, Knopf

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• Men do what is called a good action, as some piece of courage or charity, much as they would pay a fine in expiation of daily non-appearance on parade. Their works are done as an apology or extenuation of their living in the world. I do not wish to expiate, but to live. My life is not an apology, but a life.

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Apology, Men, Wish

  Ralph Waldo Emerson (2009). “Essays: Easyread Super Large 18pt Edition”, p.48, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• The thing about Wes," Delia said to me, unwrapping another package of turkey, "is that he thinks he can fix anything. And if he can't fix it, he can at least do something with the pieces of what's broken.

  Sarah Dessen

  Thinking, Turkeys, Broken

  Sarah Dessen (2006). “The Truth About Forever”, p.68, Penguin

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• Time really is one big continuous cloth, no? We habitually cut out pieces of time to fit us, so we tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on.

  Haruki Murakami

  Cutting, Thinking, Goes On

  FaceBook post by Haruki Murakami from Jul 07, 2015

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• All right, then. Emergency medical situation, take two.” He leaped to his feet, staggered, keeled over, then lifted his head weakly. “Chloe? Is that you?” He coughed. “Do you have my insulin?” I placed it in his outstretched hand. “You saved my life,” he said. “How can I ever repay you?” “Undying servitude sounds good. I like my eggs scrambled.” He held up a piece of fruit. “Would you settle for a bruised apple?” I laughed.

  Kelley Armstrong

  Hands, Eggs, Two

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