Chow > Chow's Quotes

“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened”
― Sara Pascoe, Oswald the Almost Famous Opossum

“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

“The political wife came forward and publicly vouched for her straying man. If she could continue to trust and believe in him, the public could too – or so the script went.”
― Anne Michaud, Why They Stay: Sex Scandals, Deals, and Hidden Agendas of Nine Political Wives

“That’s how we are programmed”
― Max Nowaz, The Polymorph

“After wriggling over multiple keys, Anna shut the computer as if locking away an explosive device.”
― Susan Rowland, The Swan Lake Murders

“How could he possibly say the words?”
― J L MARRAIN, The Gridd: Perils of the Lightholder

“Scott glanced at his watch but didn't register what it said. The notion of time had become as absurd as the quietly glowing trees.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Elephant Tree

“I've tried to get the angel to watch MTV so I can learn the vocabulary of your music, but even with the gift of tongues, I'm having trouble learning to speak hip-hop. Why is it that one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere but you must busta cap in someone's ass? Is "ho" always feminine, and "muthafucka" always masculine, while "bitch" can be either? How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that, and do I need to be dope and phat to be da bomb or can I just be "stupid"? I'll not be singing over any dead mothers until I understand.”
― Christopher Moore , Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal

“An unguarded comment often proves every bit as valuable as a response to a direct question.”
― Jeffrey Archer, Be Careful What You Wish For

“She had had the idea that the mineral world was a world of perfect, inanimate forms, with an unchanging mathematical order of crystals and molecules beneath its sprouts and flows and branches. She had thought, when she started thinking, about her own transfiguration as something profoundly unnatural, a move from a world of warm change and decay to a world of cold permanence.But as she became mineral, and looked into the idea of minerals, she saw that there were reciprocities, both physical and figurative.”
― A.S. Byatt, Little Black Book of Stories

“They were black and iridescent green and without number; and in front of Simon, the Lord of the Flies hung on his stick and grinned”
― William Golding, Lord of the Flies

“Writing is a lonely are at times, we spend so much of our time locked in a room and never know if we are reaching anyone...”
― Hubert Selby Jr.

“Damnit! Nationalism should stop at the stratosphere!”
― Robert A. Heinlein, The Man Who Sold the Moon