Edwin Semmes > Edwin's Quotes

“Winston, how’s she going b’y?” asked Herb in the familiar Newfoundland greeting.
Windflower gave the appropriate response. “She’s going good, b’y.”
― Mike Martin, Too Close For Comfort

“Fame to an artist is like light to a vampire.”
― Rebecca Harlem, The Pink Cadillac

“The endless void of space stretched out before it. Millennia had passed
as it roared through the plane of the Milky Way galaxy. The awesome
ellipse of its original path was continually altered by intermittent proximity
to myriad stars.
It gave off minute bits of itself as it rocketed silently through the
vacuum of space, but still, after all these millennia it was counted large
as such things were measured, and the fact that it had never collided
with anything else after such a tremendous interval of travel was a mute
testimony to the vastness and comparative emptiness of the universe.
Much as humans, on a molecular level, are comprised mostly of space
not of matter, so the universe, for all its galaxies and solar systems, is
comprised primarily of interconnecting emptiness.
Dark, colossal, mindless, and mighty in its mass and velocity, it came
on and on through space. The great alignment had set it on a new path.
Now, one last nudge from the Red Giant in the previous solar system
had fixed its new course, on a fateful rendezvous. Though it was oblivious
to its own destination and nothing in the universe with awareness
had yet detected it . . . Its path was set.”
― Jody Summers, The Mayan Legacy

“When the hatred stops will the love begin? When there is no more greed will there then be peace?”
― Sherman Kennon, My Thoughts

“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

“One thing that became very clear during my own war service is that those who are actively taking part in war-like activities very seldom hate their former enemies. The reverse is the case with a great respect developing among the veterans, even if they happened to be on opposing sides.”
― Michael G. Kramer, A Gracious Enemy & After the War Volume One

“The fire on the mountain.” That was Anna. “Alchemy,” she said. “I feel it singing in my bones.”
“Singing?” Mary would never understand Anna. The young woman turned away.
Wiseman’s reply was tinged with respect.
“That great pair of alchemists, Francis Ransome and Roberta Le More, believed the work they did affected the world’s spirit, the anima mundi. The Native Americans they met believed they too could and should interact with the Great Spirit. They lived with reverence for the land and all its peoples, the ancestors, the animals, the rocks, the trees, mountains.” 
Mary’s jaw dropped; Caroline glowed; Anna pretended not to listen. Wiseman nodded, then continued.
“You mean…?” began Mary.
“Yes, it could have been so different, a meeting of like-minded earth-based spiritualities. Just imagine, what could have been?”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“The real skill is to manage and reward the people who are smarter than you in some technical area. That is why companies have a board of directors.”
― Robert T. Kiyosaki, Rich Dad Poor Dad

“One day, Liesel.' he said, 'you'll be dying to kiss me.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

“All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen.”
― Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

“So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can't prove the question either way, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?”
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

“You know, friend, this is a goddamn bitch of a unsatisfactory situation.”
― Annie Proulx, Brokeback Mountain

“Láska je přechodné šílenství, vybuchne jako sopka a potom opadne. A když opadne, musíš se rozhodnout. Musíš zjistit, zdali je vaše kořeny propletený takovým způsobem, že váš rozchod není vůbec myslitelný. Protože právě tohle je láska. Láska není ta bezdechnost, není to vzrušení, nejsou to halasné sliby věčné vášně, není to touha pářit se čtyřiadvacet hodin denně a není to, když v noci zůstaneš vzhůru a představuješ si, že líbá každý záhyb tvého těla. Ne, nečervenej se, já ti teď říkám náramné pravdy. To je jenom zamilovanost, to svede každý hlupák. Láska samotná je to, co zbude, když se zamilovanost vyčerpá, a to je jak umění, tak šťastná náhoda. Mně a tvé mamince se to povedlo, měli jsme kořeny, které kdesi v podzemí srostly k sobě, a když nám z větvi opadaly všechny ty krásné květy, zjistili jsme, že jsme jeden strom, ne dva. Ale někdy korunní plátky opadnou a ty zjistíš, že kořeny nesrostly. Představ si, že opustíš domov a svůj lid, jen abys po šesti měsících, roce, třech letech zjistila, že strom tvé lásky nezapustil kořeny a vyvrátil se. Představ si to zoufalství, představ si, jak by tě to dusilo.”
― Louis de Bernières, Corelli’s Mandolin