Stalking Quotes - Page 8

• You can say anything you want, yessir, but it's the words that sing, they soar and descend...I bow to them...I love them, I cling to them, I run them down, I bite into them, I melt them down...I love words so much...The unexpected ones...The ones I wait for greedily or stalk until, suddenly, they drop.

  Pablo Neruda

  Running, Waiting, Say Anything

  Pablo Neruda (1977). “Memoirs”

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• Mexico admits you through an arched stone orifice into the tree-filled courtyard of its heart, where a dog pisses against a wall and a waiter hustles through a curtain of jasmine to bring a bowl of tortilla soup, steaming with cilantro and lime. Cats stalk lizards among the clay pots around the fountain, doves settle into the flowering vines and coo their prayers, thankful for the existence of lizards. The potted plants silently exhale, outgrowing their clay pots. Like Mexico's children they stand pinched and patient in last year's too-small shoes.

  Barbara Kingsolver

  Dog, Prayer, Children

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• Stalking the Angel [Joe]"I could off anybody in this place five times over." [Elvis]"Could you off someone and get away with you here?" [Joe]Head shake. "I'm too good even for me.

  Robert Crais

  Angel, Get Away, Shakes

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• For time and eternity there have been fathers like Nathan who simply can see no way to have a daughter but to own her like a plot of land. To work her, plow her under, rain down a dreadful poison upon her. Miraculously, it causes these girls to grow. They elongate on the pale slender stalks of their longing, like sunflowers with heavy heads. You can shield them with your body and soul, trying to absorb that awful rain, but they'll still move toward him. Without cease they'll bend to his light.

  Barbara Kingsolver

  Girl, Daughter, Father

  Barbara Kingsolver (2008). “The Poisonwood Bible”, p.162, Faber & Faber

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• The photographer is an armed version of the solitary walker reconnoitering, stalking, cruising the urban inferno, the voyeuristic stroller who discovers the city as a landscape of voluptuous extremes. Adept of the joys of watching, connoisseur of empathy, the flâneur finds the world 'picturesque.

  Susan Sontag

  Cities, Empathy, Joy

  Susan Sontag (2011). “On Photography”, p.50, Macmillan

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• In summary, she did jump off a cliff, but she wasn't trying to kill herself. Bella's all about the extreme sports these days." I flushed and turned my eyes straight ahead, looking after the dark shadow that I could no longer see. I could imagine what he was hearing in Alice's thoughts now. Near-drowings, stalking vampires, werewolf friends . . . "Hm," Edward said curtly, and the casual tone of his voice was gone.

  Stephenie Meyer

  Sports, Eye, Dark

  "New Moon". Book by Stephenie Meyer, September 6, 2006.

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• What a luxury a cat is, the moments of shocking and startling pleasure in a day, the feel of the beast, the soft sleekness under your palm, the warmth when you wake on a cold night, the grace and charm even in a quite ordinary workaday puss. Cat walks across your room, and in that lonely stalk you see leopard or even panther, or it turns its head to acknowledge you and the yellow blaze of those eyes tells you what an exotic visitor you have here, in this household friend, the cat who purrs as you stroke, or rub his chin, or scratch his head.

  Doris Lessing

  Lonely, Cat, Eye

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• He had once found himself in a room with Lady Bessborough's long-haired white cat. He happened to be dressed in an immaculate black coat and trousers, and was there thoroughly alarmed by the cat's stalking round and round and making motions as if it proposed to sit upon him. He waited until he believed himself to be unobserved, then he picked it up, opened a window, and tossed it out. Despite falling three storeys to the ground, the cat survived, but one of its legs was never quite right afterward and it always evinced the greatest dislike of gentlemen in black clothes.

  Susanna Clarke

  Fall, Cat, White

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• Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked. ”Enough to accept my apologies?” I suggested in a small voice. ”Heck no,” he said, and pushed off from the wall, stalking forward. When he reached me, he put his hands up and touched the sides of my neck with the tips of his fingers – as if I were something fragile. ”No apologies from you,” he told me, his voice soft enough to melt my knees and most of my other parts.

  Patricia Briggs

  Wall, Love You, Apology

  Patricia Briggs (2011). “The Mercy Thompson Collection”, p.1345, Penguin

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• I saw a crow building a nest, I was watching him very carefully, I was kind of stalking him and he was aware of it. And you know what they do when they become aware of someone stalking them when they build a nest, which is a very vulnerable place to be? They build a decoy nest. It's just for you.

  Tom Waits

  Crow, Nests, Saws

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• Why were you even there?" Kami asked. "Were you following me home?" "Are you asking me if I was stalking you?" "Maybe," said Kami. "Were you?" "Yeah," said Jared. "Little bit.

  Sarah Rees Brennan

  Home, Asking, Littles

  Sarah Rees Brennan (2013). “Untold”, p.104, Simon and Schuster

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• The fans, the vampire groupies, love the idea of this androgynous, preternatural figure stalking the night, and craving aesthetic pleasure just as he craves blood, wearing only the best velvet clothes, and savoring red roses.

  Anne Rice

  Night, Blood, Ideas

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• I make bean stalks, I'm A builder, like yourself.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Work, Garden, Essentials

  Edna St Vincent, Edna St. Vincent Millay (2013). “The Edna St. Vincent Millay Collection”, p.159, eBookIt.com

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• The wind that makes music in November corn is in a hurry. The stalks hum, the loose husks whisk skyward in half-playing swirls, and the wind hurries on.... A tree tries to argue, bare limbs waving, but there is no detaining the wind.

  Aldo Leopold

  Fall, Autumn, Wind

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• I've learned that you can't make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they'll panic and give in.

  Emo Philips

  Love, Giving, Panic

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• Don't play his game. Play yours.

  Rachel Caine

  Games, Play, Claire Danvers

  Rachel Caine (2013). “Fall of Night: The Morganville Vampires”, p.66, Penguin

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• Bast crouched down and began making weird chittering noises. Uh-oh. She was imitating birds. I'd seen enough cats do this when they were stalking. Suddenly my own obituary flashed in my head: Carter Kane, 14, tragically died in Paris wen he was eaten by his sister's cat, Muffin.

  Rick Riordan

  Cat, Paris, Bird

  Rick Riordan (2010). “The Red Pyramid (The Kane Chronicles Book 1): The Red Pyramid”, p.183, Penguin UK

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• The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men.

  Raymond Chandler

  Men, Forests, Nasty

  Raymond Chandler (2011). “The Big Sleep & Farewell, My Lovely”, p.13, Modern Library

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• Then all at once in late August's heat, tall leafless stalks crowned with iridescent pink and purple blossoms burst from the purgatory in the earth. This arcane act of nature, though perceived by us as ordinary, is a manifestation of Maya's phantom play, the great immensity expressed in every way. My garden is the universe. I am the universe. I am my garden. All things are the same.

  Duane Michals

  Garden, Purple, August

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• You must bind up any wounds you give the earth and you must feed her to replace what you take from her. Every gift she gives, every tree, every stalk of grain, costs her. Only if you repay your debts will she continue to provide.

  Morgan Llywelyn

  Giving, Tree, Cost

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• She had been so wicked that in all her life she had done only one good deed-given an onion to a beggar. So she went to hell. As she lay in torment she saw the onion, lowered down from heaven by an angel. She caught hold of it. He began to pull her up. The other damned saw what was happening and caught hold of it too. She was indignant and cried, "Let go-it's my onion," and as soon as she said, "my onion," the stalk broke and she fell back into the flames.

  E. M. Forster

  Letting Go, Angel, Flames

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• Chance in music doesn't have to involve the I Ching or rolling dice or throwing yarrow stalks. It can involve an out-of-tune guitar, or other impossible-to-replicate moments of awkwardness - even more so than an awkward, out-of-tune live performance, because there's something incredible about the way that an out-of-tune guitar becomes part of the song on a record. I won't be precious and say it's part of the composition - that's nonsensica l - but chance occurrences are so crucial to what's distinctive. It's the fingerprints all over so many of these recordings.

  David Grubbs

  Song, Awkward, Chance

  Source: pitchfork.com

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• Fate stalks us with depressing monotony from womb to tomb, and, when we are least expecting it, deals us a series of crushing blows from behind.

  Hesketh Pearson

  Crush, Depressing, Fate

  Hesketh Pearson (1926). “The whispering gallery: being leaves from a diplomat's diary”

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• I am still a learner, not a teacher, feeding somewhat omnivorously, browsing both stalk & leaves

  Henry David Thoreau

  Education, Teacher, Feeding

  Henry David Thoreau (2012). “The Portable Thoreau”, p.371, Penguin

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• Someone had my number and they started text-stalking me. I've never replied to them. It was tempting to write back, but I resisted.

  Sophie Ellis Bextor

  Writing, Stalking Me, Numbers

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