Shalanda Riehm > Shalanda's Quotes

“Alisha was now sitting in a shabby armchair with her face buried in a tissue. ‘It’s when someone is kind,’ she whispered, ‘You can keep going until someone is kind.”
― Elizabeth Tebby Germaine, A MAN WHO SEEMED REAL: A story of love, lies, fear and kindness

“In a popular state the inhabitants are divided into certain classes,” Montesquieu affirmed in a Marxian manner a century before Marx! So, the popular state is a fiction; it is transient, fleeting, and for this reason — imaginable only. In its rigorous scientific sense of a class instrument, it is practically an empty matter sophism, a complete commonplaceness, an offspring of mental weakness. There is no such state! If it is a state, it is not popular! If it is popular, it is not a state yet! The State is a violent institution for social injustice generated by two main classes, which are main ones because they are at enmity… Any people closed in a state, are divided into classes. “For indeed any city, however small, is in fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich.”(Plato, The Republic).  Not Marx, still Plato said the truth!”
― Todor Bombov, Socialism Is Dead! Long Live Socialism!: The Marx Code-Socialism with a Human Face

“Guests began drifting toward the edge of the lawn.
Jane heard the shift around her as someone whispered,
“Graham’s here.”
― D.L. Maddox, Secrets

“The very impulse to write springs from an inner chaos crying for order - for meaning.”
― Arthur MIller

“And when he had crossed the bridge, the phantoms came to meet him.”
― Bram Stoker, Dracula

“Nobody's strong enough to be a parent. We just do it, blindly, going forward on faith and love and hope. That's all it is...Being afraid...and going on.”
― Kristin Hannah, Firefly Lane

“Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?”
― Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women

“In the language of the day it is customary to describe a certain sort of book as “escapist” literature. As I understand it, the adjective implies, a little condescendingly, that the life therein depicted cannot be identified with the real life which the critic knows so well in W.C.1: and may even have the disastrous effect on the reader of taking him happily for a few hours out of his own real life in N.W.8. Why this should be a matter for regret I do not know; nor why realism in a novel is so much admired when realism in a picture is condemned as mere photography; nor, I might add, why drink and fornication should seem to bring the realist closer to real life than, say, golf and gardening.”
― A.A. Milne