Page 22 Quotes

“Iron Sisters also badass at recycling!”
― Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter's Codex

“That's the girl...that's the girl--" Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat. "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend.”
― Rick Riordan, The Sea of Monsters

“Don't be afraid. There is no more to fear. Do not fear rejection. If you fear rejection by another you do not love the other, though you may profess it. You are only being anxious for his love of you. The free man does not seek the love of others, nor fear that his love will be rejected, for rejection - as is known from the night Christ was betrayed - does not destroy love, and it does not destroy the one who loves. Don't be afraid, you are not alone.”
― William Stringfellow

“People who get his kind of result are...She looks over her shoulder like she expects someone to appear behind her...are called...Divergent.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent

“How ironic. You are a dream; I hope I never meet you.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“He muttered, "ow," and burst into a cloud of green flame, which I figured was going to make Babycakes pretty upset.”
― Rick Riordan, The Sea of Monsters

“She described people, scenes, and objects she had never seen with the detail and precision of a Flemish master. Her words evoked textures and echoes, the color of voices, the rhythm of footsteps.”
― Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

“Perhaps you're right," I said. "But how can one avoid the desire the genuine desire to help our fellow men?"
"How do you think one can help them?"
"By alleviating their burden. The lease one can do for our fellow men is to try to change them. You yourself are involved in doing that. Aren't you?"
"No. I'm not. I don't know what to change or why to change anything in my fellow men."
"What about me, don Juan? Weren't you teaching me so I could change?"
"No. I'm not trying to change you. It may happen that one day you may become a man of knowledge--there's no way to know that--but that will not change you. Some day perhaps you'll be able to 'see' me in another mode and then you'll realize that there's no way to change anything about them.”
― Carlos Castaneda, A Separate Reality: Further Conversations with Don Juan

“...My happiness streams from having wrenched a piece out of my life, a piece of hurt and beauty, and transformed it to typewritten words on paper.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“...I am justifying my life, my keen emotion, my feeling, by turning it into print.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“Man, I love you. I'm reaching out to you. I love you.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“Tasarımın “bir şeyin işleyişi ve kullanımıyla ilgili problemlerin çözümü” ve “bir şeyin görünüşüyle ilgili problemlerin çözümü” olmak üzere iki yönü vardır. Genel anlamda birincisi mühendislerin alanına girer ve teknik buluşlar gerektirir. İkincisi ise biçimsel sorunları ele alır ve estetik bir görünüm yaratmaya çalışır. İyi tasarım bu ikisi arasındaki ilişkiyi bir bütün olarak ele alır ve kullanıcılar için en uygun çözümü araştırır.”
― Ardan Ergüven, İyi Tasarım Nedir?

“She's so near that I feel the heat of her next to me, and I warn myself not to make it more than it is. I haven't done
this often, but I've done it enough to know how this ends. All the girls in the rainbow T-shirts who kiss girls to impress boys but would die if anyone called them a dyke. The girls with the careless smiles and thirsty hearts who draw lines only they can see and move goalposts when I'm not looking. All
those things said and unsaid, never to be spoken of again. All the times I said "okay" when I really wanted to say "I don’t want to be friends."

The ghost girls who are there, then not there, who let themselves give in to that itch of curiosity, just for a moment,
and make me feel something, only to conclude that it isn't for them. The ones who are bored or scared or both, who'd rather tell me that they were drunk than let me know that they felt something as well because all they want is a quiet life. Someone they can love without it being brave. Someone they can invite
over for Sunday lunch and go with to prom.

I am the first and last and nothing in between. The mad one. The wild one. The one who sees things that aren't there. I am to be unloaded on, to be bled on and cried all over. I am the
one they experiment with. 'The one they can let go with because I'll never tell. The keeper of secrets and soother of
guilt. But I am never the one. I am not to be loved. Not out loud, anyway. Maybe, one day, if I'm lucky, I'll be a what if? Or worse, the one before the one. The one that made them realize that it wasn't just a phase. But, for the most part, I will barelv be a footnote in the book of that quiet life they want so much.”
― Tanya Byrne, Afterlove

“As Vinnie listens to these facts, and under friendly interrogation supplies a few of her own, she wonders why citizens of the United States who have nothing in common and will never see one another again feel it necessary to exchange such information. It can only clog up their brain cells with useless data, and is moreover often invidious, tending to estrange casual acquaintances.”
― Alison Lurie, Foreign Affairs

“Then without a sound of approach, the rounded shadow of a small head advanced timorously across it; cast from somewhere behind him, rising upward from below. A neck, two shoulders, followed it. Then the graceful indentation of a waist.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Waltz into Darkness

“There was the light touch of a hand upon his shoulder. No exacting weight, no compulsive stroke; velvety and gossamer as the alighting of a butterfly.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Waltz into Darkness

“A figure swept around before him, as on a turntable, pivoting to claim the center of his eyes; though it was he and not the background that had shifted.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Waltz into Darkness

“Her limpid brown eyes came up to the turn of Durand’s shoulder. Her face held an exquisite beauty he had never before seen, the beauty of porcelain, but without its cold stillness, and a crumpled rose petal of a mouth.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Waltz into Darkness

“She was no more than in her early twenties, and though her size might have lent her added youth, the illusion had very little to subtract from the reality.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Waltz into Darkness

“Tight-spun golden curls clung to her head like a field of daisies, rebelling all but successfully at the conventional coiffure she tried to impose upon them.”
― Cornell Woolrich, Waltz into Darkness

“I go up the stairs, past the presidents, directly to the bathroom even though I’m already wearing my uniform. It’s empty. I catch myself in the mirror over the sink. It’s tilted away from the wall for people in wheelchairs so that I’m at a slightly unfamiliar angle to myself. I look beat up, like someone who has gotten ill and aged a decade in a few months. I look into my eyes, but they aren’t really mine, not the eyes I used to have. They’re the eyes of someone very tired and very sad, and once I see them I feel even sadder and then I see that sadness, that compassion, for the sadness in my eyes, and I see the water rising in them. I’m both the sad person and the person wanting to comfort the sad person. And then I feel sad for that person who has so much compassion because she’s clearly been through the same thing, too. And the cycle keeps repeating. It’s like when you go into a dressing room with a three-paneled mirror and you line them up just right to see the long narrowing hallway of yourselves diminishing into infinity. It feels like that, like I’m sad for an infinite number of my selves.”
― Lily King, Writers & Lovers