Jess Koth > Jess's Quotes

“Love is described like GOD.”
― Sara Pascoe

“To insinuate that I would break an oath that I made to the ALMIGHTY for my own personal gain is an insult. An insult to me and an insult to the Order. An insult, worthy of death.”
― J.B. Lion, The Seventh Spark: Volume One – Knights of the Trinity

“Let a sleeping dragon lie.”
― Andri E. Elia, Borealis: A Worldmaker of Yand Novel

“It was all about the G.I.s overseas. As the war became more of a reality and blue stars on windows were turning to gold stars indicating a soldier’s death, the tensions at home were increasing. Giving what little they could for the war effort was often an act of desperation. Some people made pacts with God to bring their men home hoping beyond hope that it made a difference.”
― A.G. Russo, The Cases Nobody Wanted

“I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. 
I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the crime I planned. He chose what I have to offer.
We were almost to the cemetery before he asked where we were going. I answered with another question. “Do you like living in the High Lord’s kitchens?”
He, of course, replied, “No.”
“Well, we’re going to a better place.”
When we reached the edge of the Wood, I pushed aside a branch to see the Temple of Loric and Calec’s cottage. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and I assumed the old man was yet abed. His pony was grazing in the field of graves. The sun hid behind a bank of clouds.
Malison moved beside me. “It’s a graveyard.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” I asked.
“My father’s a ghost,” he whispered.
I asked if he wanted to learn how to throw a knife. He said, “Yes,” as I knew he would.  He untucked his shirt, withdrew the knife he had stolen and gave it to me. It was a thick-bladed, single-edged knife, better suited for dicing celery than slitting a young throat. But it would serve my purpose. That I also knew. I’d spent all night projecting how the morning would unfold and, except for indulging in the tea, it had happened as I had imagined. 
Damut kissed her son farewell. Malison followed me of his own free will. Without fear, he placed the instrument of his death into my hand. We were at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The stolen knife was warm from the heat of his body. I had only to use it. Yet I hesitated, and again prayed for Sythene to show me a different path.
“Aren’t you going to show me?” Malison prompted, as if to echo my prayer.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“Time is the narrator of life. Without Time speaking, nothing would exist.”
― Frank Lambert, Ghost Doors

“Hungry stomachs growl the same tune.”
― John Rachel, Love Connection: Romance in the Land of the Rising Sun

“He had a peanut the shape of a peanut on his back too and so was nutty through and through.”
― Molly Arbuthnott, Peanut the Hamster

“Particular patterns of thought get attached to particular movements or activities, and before you know it, it’s impossible to approach that movement or activity without dislodging an avalanche of prethought thoughts.”
― Susanna Kaysen, Girl, Interrupted

“FIFTH GRADE WAS different. That was the year to get ready for middle school. Fifth grade meant passing classes. It meant no morning recess. It meant real letter grades on your report cards. But most of all, it meant Mrs. Granger.”
― Andrew Clements, Frindle

“America, you are full of nothing but bad ideas. Great intentions but awful ideas.”
― Kiera Cass, The One

“Art is as useful as bread.”
― Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

“Tu sais… quand on est tellement triste on aime les couchers de soleil…

-Le jour des quarante-trois fois tu étais donc tellement triste? Mais le petit prince ne répontit pas.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince