Willy Ostroot > Willy's Quotes

“I suppose knowing where you are is better than having you skulk around, popping out of dark alleys and doorways. It eliminates the possibility of shooting you by accident. If I know where you are, I can shoot you on purpose.”
― Lotchie Burton, Gabriel's Fire

“Visitors are not permitted to see me twice. You will have to join the cult in order to do so. If the visitor sees me for the second time, he does not recognize me.”
― Rebecca Harlem, The Pink Cadillac

“Water continued to explain about the life of the tree. “Trees can be as big below the ground as they are above it. And there are mother trees in the forests—these are the oldest trees. They have the most connections with the other trees. Trees communicate with each other and look after the young trees by sending them nutrients through their roots.”
― Ellen J. Lewinberg, Joey and His Friend Water

“Mary’s hands clenched. She’d been through fire, what with a murder, and white supremacists. And what about Caroline, who had gone undercover to rescue the Scroll’s Key Keeper? Where were the College’s thanks for that?”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“Making it to the Super Bowl is something few and far between. Many football players never get the opportunity to make it that far.”
― Vernon Davis, Playing Ball: Life Lessons from My Journey to the Super Bowl and Beyond

“Various large trees— willowy peppers and especially the pines—seem to be reaching down to hold your hand.”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“The prince of darkness is a gentleman!”
― William Shakespeare, King Lear

“It seems wrong and unfair that Christmas, with its stressful and unmanageable financial and emotional challenges, should first be forced upon one wholly against one’s will, then rudely snatched away just when one is starting to get into it.”
― Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones's Diary

“I can understand the ignorant masses loving to soak themselves in drink—oh, yes, it's very shocking that they should, of course—very shocking to us who live in cozy homes, with all the graces and pleasures of life around us, that the dwellers in damp cellars and windy attics should creep from their dens of misery into the warmth and glare of the public-house bar, and seek to float for a brief space away from their dull world upon a Lethe stream of gin. But think, before you hold up your hands in horror at their ill-living, what "life" for these wretched creatures really means. Picture the squalid misery of their brutish existence, dragged on from year to year in the narrow, noisome room where, huddled like vermin in sewers, they welter, and sicken, and sleep; where dirt-grimed children scream and fight and sluttish, shrill-voiced women cuff, and curse, and nag; where the street outside teems with roaring filth and the house around is a bedlam of riot and stench. Think what a sapless stick this fair flower of life must be to them, devoid of mind and soul. The horse in his stall scents the sweet hay and munches the ripe corn contentedly. The watch-dog in his kennel blinks at the grateful sun, dreams of a glorious chase over the dewy fields, and wakes with a yelp of gladness to greet a caressing hand. But the clod-like life of these human logs never knows one ray of light. From the hour when they crawl from their comfortless bed to the hour when they lounge back into it again they never live one moment of real life. Recreation, amusement, companionship, they know not the meaning of. Joy, sorrow, laughter, tears, love, friendship, longing, despair, are idle words to them. From the day when their baby eyes first look out upon their sordid world to the day when, with an oath, they close them forever and their bones are shoveled out of sight, they never warm to one touch of human sympathy, never thrill to a single thought, never start to a single hope. In the name of the God of mercy; let them pour the maddening liquor down their throats and feel for one brief moment that they live!”
― Jerome K. Jerome, Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow

“Ye've a furtive look in your eye - a furtive, sneakin', poachin' look in your eye, that 'ud ruin the reputation of an archangel!”
― Rudyard Kipling, The Complete Stalky and Co.

“L'olezzo di una carneficina, credono alcuni, può aleggiare su un luogo per anni. Dicono che s'infiltri nel suolo e venga lentamente assorbito dall'intrico delle radici finché, col passare del tempo, tutto ciò che vi cresce, dal più piccolo lichene all'albero più alto, ne viene impregnato.”
― Nicholas Evans, The Loop