Bernard Linegar > Bernard's Quotes

“A French lieutenant was asked by the commander of the French forces, “Jean, it seems to me that many people are only saying the things they think that I want to hear. Accordingly, what I am getting is not information, it is fucking bullshit!”
― Michael G. Kramer, A Gracious Enemy & After the War Volume One

“Gabe suffers from survivor’s remorse. He won’t admit it because he doesn’t see it. Can’t recognize it in himself. He overcompensates for coming back alive, when so many didn’t. He’s got issues. You’ve got issues. Everyone has issues. But issues are a part of life. And whether we like it or not, even bad things happen for a reason.”
― Lotchie Burton, Gabriel's Fire

“On the end of my bed. He’s short, round and bald, with a tartan loin cloth, and what looks like a spout on the top of his head,’ Bryony said. ‘You flatter me,’ came the snide male voice. ‘But it’s a valve.”
― Sara Pascoe, Being a Witch, and Other Things I Didn't Ask For

“Snake Street is an area I should avoid. Yet that night I was drawn there as surely as if I had an appointment. 
The Snake House is shabby on the outside to hide the wealth within. Everyone knows of the wealth, but facades, like the park’s wall, must be maintained. A lantern hung from the porch eaves. A sign, written in Utte, read ‘Kinship of the Serpent’. I stared at that sign, at that porch, at the door with its twisted handle, and wondered what the people inside would do if I entered. Would they remember me? Greet me as Kin? Or drive me out and curse me for faking my death?  Worse, would they expect me to redon the life I’ve shed? Staring at that sign, I pissed in the street like the Mearan savage I’ve become.
As I started to leave, I saw a woman sitting in the gutter. Her lamp attracted me. A memsa’s lamp, three tiny flames to signify the Holy Trinity of Faith, Purity, and Knowledge.  The woman wasn’t a memsa. Her young face was bruised and a gash on her throat had bloodied her clothing. Had she not been calmly assessing me, I would have believed the wound to be mortal. I offered her a copper. 
She refused, “I take naught for naught,” and began to remove trinkets from a cloth bag, displaying them for sale.
Her Utte accent had been enough to earn my coin. But to assuage her pride I commented on each of her worthless treasures, fighting the urge to speak Utte. (I spoke Universal with the accent of an upper class Mearan though I wondered if she had seen me wetting the cobblestones like a shameless commoner.) After she had arranged her wares, she looked up at me. “What do you desire, O Noble Born?”
I laughed, certain now that she had seen my act in front of the Snake House and, letting my accent match the coarseness of my dress, I again offered the copper.
 “Nay, Noble One. You must choose.” She lifted a strand of red beads. “These to adorn your lady’s bosom?”
            I shook my head. I wanted her lamp. But to steal the light from this woman ... I couldn’t ask for it. She reached into her bag once more and withdrew a book, leather-bound, the pages gilded on the edges. “Be this worthy of desire, Noble Born?”
 I stood stunned a moment, then touched the crescent stamped into the leather and asked if she’d stolen the book. She denied it. I’ve had the Training; she spoke truth. Yet how could she have come by a book bearing the Royal Seal of the Haesyl Line? I opened it. The pages were blank.
“Take it,” she urged. “Record your deeds for study. Lo, the steps of your life mark the journey of your soul.”
  I told her I couldn’t afford the book, but she smiled as if poverty were a blessing and said, “The price be one copper. Tis a wee price for salvation, Noble One.”
  So I bought this journal. I hide it under my mattress. When I lie awake at night, I feel the journal beneath my back and think of the woman who sold it to me. Damn her. She plagues my soul. I promised to return the next night, but I didn’t. I promised to record my deeds. But I can’t. The price is too high.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“This faulty light fitting at the front door with the dangerously flickering bulb looks rather festive. Who says I don't do Christmas?”
― R.D. Ronald

“I ended up sitting right next to Sexy Patty. The placement wasn’t on purpose. (I needed the hands of God, not a girlfriend.) Since I was dealing with my own issues, I failed to notice that she was clenching a napkin and sweating profusely from head to toe. Nonetheless, she looked hotter than a fever.”
― Harold Phifer, Surviving Chaos: How I Found Peace at A Beach Bar

“When oppressed and lost people see your supernatural life shining so bright, they are attracted! They are attracted to the Jesus in you.”
― Kathryn Krick, Unlock Your Deliverance: Keys to Freedom From Demonic Oppression

“2. Alice Ereldon was in her late twenties, unmarried, and she had a reputation. She was an attractive twenty-eight-year-old. Her long brown hair hung down over her shoulders and she could conveniently sweep it over her face, partially hiding her dazzling amber eyes. The eyes were her secret weapon; she could look like a cat lining up its prey, and her prey was usually young male courtiers.”
― Robert Reid, The Empress

“My grandmother said, ‘It doesn’t really matter where you had to go, where you got the ring, or where you played the Super Bowl, all that matters is that you put in the work, you deserved it, and you earned it.”
― Vernon Davis, Playing Ball: Life Lessons from My Journey to the Super Bowl and Beyond

“More about Howl? Sophie thought desperately. I have to blacken his name! Her mind was such a blank that for a second it actually seemed to her that Howl had no faults at all. How stupid! 'Well, he's fickle, careless, selfish, and hysterical,' she said. 'Half the time I think he doesn't care what happens to anyone as long as he's alright--but then I find out how awfully kind he's been to someone. Then I think he's kind just when it suits him--only then I find out he undercharges poor people. I don't know, Your Majesty. He's a mess.”
― Diana Wynne Jones, Howl’s Moving Castle

“In other words: Whatever the problem, be part of the solution. Don't just sit around raising questions and pointing out obstacles.”
― Tina Fey, Bossypants

“In the English language there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for the parents who lose a child.”
― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

“I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape.”
― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

“On the other hand, everyday language would soon prove inadequate for designating all the olfactory notions that he had accumulated within himself. Soon he was no longer smelling mere wood, but kinds of wood: maple-wood, oak-wood, pine-wood, elm-wood, pear-wood, old, young, rotting, mouldering, mossy wood, down to single logs, chips and splinters – and could clearly differentiate them as objects in a way that other people could not have done by sight. It was the same with other things. For instance, the white drink that Madame Gaillard served her wards each day, why should it be designated uniformly as milk, when to Grenouille’s senses it smelled and tasted completely different every morning depending on how warm it was, which cow it had come from, what that cow had been eating, how much cream had been left in it and so on … Or why should smoke possess only the name ‘smoke’, when from minute to minute, second to second, the amalgam of hundreds of odours mixed iridescently into ever new and changing unities as the smoke rose from the fire … or why should earth, landscape, air – each filled at every step and every breath with yet another odour and thus animated with another identity – still be designated by just those three coarse words. All these grotesque incongruities between the richness of the world perceivable by smell and the poverty of language were enough for the lad Grenouille to doubt that language made any sense at all; and he grew accustomed to using such words only when his contact with others made it absolutely necessary.”
― Patrick Süskind, Perfume: The Story of a Murderer

“A lot of people—young and old— have not done a very good job of taking care of our country so we can enjoy living in it. Almost everywhere today you see the marks of the stupid and the careless who are ruining what we should all take care of for our own pleasure—and our own good.”
― Munro Leaf, Who Cares? I Do.

“The early women rise before I do. Their lamps splinter the gloom of the kitchens. They chatter in whispers as they brew tea for the cooks. Windows are open to counter the heat of the ovens. Outside, the sky is as black as my soul.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“Still, in 1877, Engels wanted to protect us from false socialism. Still then, in Anti-Dühring, he wrote that not any nationalization is socialist, because in the contrary case both Bismarck and Napoleon would have to be arranged among the founders of socialism.”
― Todor Bombov, Socialism Is Dead! Long Live Socialism!: The Marx Code-Socialism with a Human Face

“The Earl of Lancaster loudly spoke, “Piers Gaveston, this court finds you guilty of treason, of sodomy and sedition as well as many other crimes against God! You shall be taken to Blacklow Hill, which shall by your place of execution, and you shall be put to death by two of my Welsh soldiers! May God have mercy upon your soul!”
― Michael G. Kramer, Isabella Warrior Queen

“Dogs lounged beneath half the tables, bowls of water set out by the staff as though they were regulars too.”
― D.L. Maddox, The Dog Walker: Stolen

“The fear was taking my breath away when God’s spirit gently whispered to me these words: “Just stand up.”
― Octavia Yvonne Webb, Mixed Bloodline: The story of a young biracial boy overcoming racism growing up in the South doing the 1930's Jim Crow Era

“And every little burg had the same building hierarchy: banks, churches, insurance companies, and hardware stores.”
― Gary Clemenceau, Banker's Holiday: A Novel of Fiscal Irregularity

“Where’s everybody? I thought you had started production.”
“They’ve got a day off, but don’t worry you’ll see the machinery is here.”
But Brown was worried. As they entered the canteen, the lights came on
automatically. There was nobody there.
“What’s going…...” but he never finished the sentence. Brown felt a sharp pain on the
side of his head and everything went black.”
― Max Nowaz, The Arbitrator

“
There are some sins that can never be forgiven, for to do so would be to commit a far greater sin.”
― Ashby Jones, The Little Bird

“You can use all the hundred dollar words you want,” said Vic, “women like that are like TNT. You go after their man, they’d sooner kill you than look at you.”
― A.G. Russo, The Cases Nobody Wanted

“- Мистър Бог понякога е съвсем малък, нали? Иначе как ще знае, как живеят калинките?
Разбира се. Беше като с Алиса в страната на чудесата. Анна хапваше от баницата и ставаше толкова малка или голяма, колкото искаше.
- Когато си точно такъв, изобщо не го знаеш - каза тя изведнъж, без преход.
- Не знаеш какво?
- Не знаеш, че си мил и добър.
Каза го с глас, сякаш се подразбираше, в пренебрегнато полуизречение. Познавах тази интонация. Когато говореша така, очакваше въпроси. Нещо непременно се опитваше да ми каже.
- Добре, дребосъчке, я ми го обясни.
Тя се ухили.
- Ако знаеш, че си добър, изобщо не си като Мистър Бог, ама никак.
Почувствах се като двойкаджията на класа и само поптах:
- Защо?
- Да не мислисш, че Мистър Бог знае, че е добър и мил и милосърден?
- Дребосъчке, никога не съм мислил за това. Може би изобщо не му трябва да го знае?
Един Господ знае, в какъв диалектичен спор се опитваше да ме оплете Анна. По-добре беше да не прекалявам с въпросите. Нещо се опитваше да нацели. Търсеше идея, израз, който да задоволи и двама ни. Накрая енергично отсече:
- Мистър Бог изобщо си няма представа, че е добър или мил, Мистър Бог е съвсем... празен.
Що се отнася до Анна, съм готов на всичко. Но "Мистър Бог е съвсем празен" - това надхвърли всички граници. Това изречение съкруши всичко, което някога бях учил, защото Мистър Бог беше пълен, натъпкан като коледна гъска със знание, любов, съчувствие. По дяволите, така беше! "Мистър Бог е съвсем празен" - колко нелепо!
Днес не получих повече сведения от Анна, нито през следващите няколко дена. Остави ме да се пържа в собствен сос. Идеята за един съвършено празен Бог не ми излизаше от главата. Беше нелепо, но просто не можех да се отърва от нея.”
― Fynn, Mister God, This is Anna

“According to Kierkegaard, rather than searching for the Truth with a capital T, it is more important to find the kind of truths that are meaningful to the individual's life. It is important to find `the truth for me`.”
― Jostein Gaarder, Sophie’s World

“It's not easy losing someone," she said. "It never goes away, does it?" "The Phantom Pain, they call it," I said. "Like amputees get when they can still feel their missing limbs.”
― John Boyne, The Heart's Invisible Furies

“There are no gods, we are told, so I must make my own salvation.”
― Ian M. Banks

“Mais… chanter
Rêver, rire, passer, être seul, être libre,
Avoir l’œil qui regarde bien, la voix qui vibre,
Mettre, quand il vous plaît, son feutre de travers,
Pour un oui, pour un non, se battre, — ou faire un vers
Travailler sans souci de gloire ou de fortune,
A tel voyage, auquel on pense, dans la lune !
N’écrire jamais rien qui de soi ne sortît,
Et modeste, d’ailleurs, se dire : « Mon petit,
Sois satisfait des fleurs, des fruits, même des feuilles
Si c’est dans ton jardin à toi que tu les cueilles ! »
Puis, s’il advient d’un peu triompher, par hasard,
Ne pas être obligé d’en rien rendre à César,
Vis-à-vis de soi-même en garder le mérite,
Bref, dédaignant d’être le lierre parasite,
Lors même qu’on n’est pas le chêne ou le tilleul,
Ne pas monter bien haut, peut-être, mais tout seul…”
― Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac / The Romancers / Chantecler / L'Aiglon: Four Plays

“A lot of blood has gone under the bridge since then, and we have all learned a hell of a lot about the realities of Politics in America. Even the politicians have learned – but, as usual, the politicians are much slower than the people they want to lead.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72