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She may die, and her eyes look into that abyss and feed her with a terror of extinction, of un-being, that is perhaps the legacy of all life.
“To me, that is beauty. Not the gleam of prefabricated perfection, but the road-worn beauty of individuality, time, and wisdom.”
― The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music
― The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music
“Religion may be the most ephemeral eddy of them all. It persists with a name and a building where the faithful congregate over generations. The faith the first generation embraced might be unrecognizable to the last, even though the building and the name have remained unchanged.”
― The Summer Dragon
― The Summer Dragon
“No woman should be made to fear that she was not enough.”
― The Priory of the Orange Tree
― The Priory of the Orange Tree
“Whachoo want, white boy? Burn cream? A Band-Aid?
Then he raised his own enormous palms to me, brought them up real close so I could see them properly; the hideous constellation of water-filled blisters, angry red welts from grill marks, the old scars, the raw flesh where steam or hot fat had made the skin simply roll off. They looked like the claws of some monstrous science-fiction crustacean, knobby and calloused under wounds old and new. I watched, transfixed, as Tyrone - his eyes never leaving mine - reached slowly under the broiler and, with one naked hand, picked up a glowing-hot sizzle-platter, moved it over to the cutting board, and set it down in front of me.
He never flinched.”
― Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly
Then he raised his own enormous palms to me, brought them up real close so I could see them properly; the hideous constellation of water-filled blisters, angry red welts from grill marks, the old scars, the raw flesh where steam or hot fat had made the skin simply roll off. They looked like the claws of some monstrous science-fiction crustacean, knobby and calloused under wounds old and new. I watched, transfixed, as Tyrone - his eyes never leaving mine - reached slowly under the broiler and, with one naked hand, picked up a glowing-hot sizzle-platter, moved it over to the cutting board, and set it down in front of me.
He never flinched.”
― Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly
“And there is no love like a mother’s love. It is life’s greatest song. We are all indebted to the women who have given us life. For without them, there would be no music.”
― The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music
― The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music
ModCloth's Shelf Life
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— last activity Jun 14, 2016 12:49PM
ModCloth is always on the lookout for new and exciting books but we love reliving the classics, too. Everyone is welcome to share with us their thou ...more
Ash’s 2025 Year in Books
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