Patricia Mccright

“Does this look like a dystopia to you?”
The answer, implicit in the man’s question, was that a dystopia doesn’t look like anything; indeed, that it can look like anywhere else.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, To Paradise

“So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality. Do you know the legend of Hercules and Antaeus, the giant wrestler, whose strength was incredible so long as he stood firmly on the earth. But when he was held, rootless, in mid-air, by Hercules, he perished easily. If there isn't something in that legend for us today, in this city, in our time, then I am completely insane. Well, there we have the first thing I said we needed. Quality, texture of information.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“The Anti-Stereotype Sonnet

Black is not evil.
White is not trash.
Brown is not illegal.
Muslims don’t crash.
Women ain't weak.
Jews ain't greedy.
Men ain't playboys.
Queer ain't sickly.
Hijab is not oppression.
Hourglass ain't beauty.
Faith is not delusion.
Atheists don't lack morality.
Assumptions only reveal shallowness.
Beyond stereotypes lies humaneness.”
― Abhijit Naskar, I Vicdansaadet Speaking: No Rest Till The World is Lifted

“I suppose you think I should be thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.'

'I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.'

'Poetic.'

A low snarl.

Too easy. It was far too easy to bait him, rile him. And though I reminded myself of the wall, of the peace we needed, I said, 'You saved my mate's life on several occasions. I will always be thankful for that.'

I knew the words found their mark. My mate.

Low. It was a low blow. I had everything- everything I'd wished for, dreamed of, begged the stars to grant me.

He had nothing. Had been given everything and squandered it. He didn't deserve my pity, my sympathy.

No, Tamlin deserved what he'd brought upon himself, this husk of a life.

He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Frost and Starlight