Nanci Reckers > Nanci's Quotes

“Love is its root of existence, the living energy that is felt but not seen.”
― Raz Mihal, Just Love Her

“GLOBAL TEMPERATURES HAVE LOWERED BY ONE DEGREE. GLOBEWIDE NATURAL INGREDIENT SHORTAGE IN EFFECT AS OF THIS MESSAGE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE ”
― Adam Scott Huerta, Motive Black

“There’s something… I can’t really explain it. Best not to try.’ ‘I’m so sorry. Must be so disturbing for you. But can’t you tell him about it?’  ‘No.’  ‘Is it affecting him?’  ‘I can’t really say. It’s complicated. He’s strong, he can overcome it, it’s going to take time. It’s something he has to face, something very difficult and complex. I can’t go there to be with him and I can’t say anything. I have to do what I have to do.”
― Elizabeth Tebby Germaine, A MAN WHO SEEMED REAL: A story of love, lies, fear and kindness

“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

“Charlie said your friend’s disappeared,” chirped Wendy.
“No, he hasn’t.” Adam denied it. “He’s in the house. Now, look, what’s all this you’ve been telling them?”
“Nothing, I haven’t told them anything.” Charlie looked drunk.
“He said you’ve turned your friend into a crayfish,” insisted Wendy.
“He’s always making little jokes like that, and you fell for it. How am I supposed to do that, for heaven’s sake?” Adam was angry.
“With your little book you found. What’s that under your arm?”
― Max Nowaz, Get Rich or Get Lucky

“Yeah, you almost got yourself killed, you idiot,” she said smiling. She
was well aware of his daredevil tendencies and to the extent possible,
comfortable with them.
“No, it was something stranger than that. When I was underwater,
my life did flash before my eyes. You know, just like everyone says it
does. But there was . . . something else . . . something that wasn’t part
of my life. It was like it was stuck right there at the end, just before I
popped to the surface, and I can’t imagine what it was.”
Val slowly turned her head back toward the road then asked, “Well,
what was it you saw?”
― Jody Summers, The Mayan Legacy

“There was no going back now. Rubber and metal could only take so much. The car could shatter and send its passengers into an elemental distillation of rock, flesh, blood, and ash. Alchemy, thought Mary, grimly. Too much bloody alchemy.”
― Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder

“All the energy of their frustration and fear going into their laughter.”
― Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream

“I don't know who I am. Or maybe I do know who I am and I just don't want to be her anymore.”
― Gayle Forman, Just One Day

“I am old enough to know only too well my good and bad qualities, which were often one in the same.”
― Lisa See, Snow Flower and the Secret Fan

“Better to have trouble with man than trouble with God.”
― Francine Rivers, An Echo in the Darkness

“There should be two main objects in ordinary prose writing: to convey a message, and to include in it nothing that will distract the reader’s attention or check his habitual pace of reading—he should feel that he is seated at ease in a taxi, not riding a temperamental horse through traffic.”
― Robert Graves, The Reader Over Your Shoulder: A Handbook for Writers of English Prose

“I hate it as one hates sin or pestilence or--the color work in a ten-cent magazine.”
― O. Henry, Strictly Business: More Stories of the Four Million