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Florine
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Can I just say I loved living in your lines and that’s where I want to live now forever?
“There is in us an instinct for newness, for renewal, for a liberation of creative power. We seek to awaken in ourselves a force which really changes our lives from within. And yet the same instinct tells us that this change is a recovery of that which is deepest, most original, most personal in ourselves. To be born again is not to become somebody else, but to become ourselves.”
― Choosing to Love the World: On Contemplation
― Choosing to Love the World: On Contemplation
“He woke each dawn at 5:30, without need for an alarm, though he set one anyway just to be sure. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he lifted. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he jogged. Down along the Charles. Beneath the sagging boughs of honey locusts fat with fruit. Following his workout, he prepared a shake. After, he showered beneath the rainwater showerhead in the third-story bath-room, water beating down his back, the radio blaring classical music from its place on the marble vanity.
Classical, not rock or country or top forty, because he'd been raised on Handel and Tchaikovsky and because sometimes, when he was very tightly wound, the instrumentals were the only things that eased the tension in his chest. When that was done, he dressed, made his bed--tucking his corners in with the militaristic precision his nanny had demanded of him when he was still small and belligerent and went downstairs to make eggs. Over easy, paired with whole-grain toast and a glass of orange juice.
He had his routine down to a science, and he did the same thing every morning.”
― The Whispering Dark
Classical, not rock or country or top forty, because he'd been raised on Handel and Tchaikovsky and because sometimes, when he was very tightly wound, the instrumentals were the only things that eased the tension in his chest. When that was done, he dressed, made his bed--tucking his corners in with the militaristic precision his nanny had demanded of him when he was still small and belligerent and went downstairs to make eggs. Over easy, paired with whole-grain toast and a glass of orange juice.
He had his routine down to a science, and he did the same thing every morning.”
― The Whispering Dark
“My observation is that the doers are the major thinkers. The people that really create the things that change this industry are both the thinker and doer in one person. And if we really go back and we examine, you know, did Leonardo have a guy off to the side that was thinking five years out in the future what he would paint or the technology he would use to paint it? Of course not. Leonardo was the artist, but he also mixed all his own paints. He also was a fairly good chemist. He knew about pigments, knew about human anatomy. And combining all of those skills together, the art and the science, the thinking and the doing, was what resulted in the exceptional result. And there is no difference in our industry. The people that have really made the contributions have been the thinkers and the doers.”
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“Remind me what it was Thomas Edison said about failure."
He knew Price would know. The boy was a walking encyclopedia. unforgivably smug in the understanding that he was, more often than not, the smartest person in the room. "I have not failed ten thousand times," he said, speaking over the muffled clash of swords, "Tve successfully found ten thousand ways that won't work.”
― The Whispering Dark
He knew Price would know. The boy was a walking encyclopedia. unforgivably smug in the understanding that he was, more often than not, the smartest person in the room. "I have not failed ten thousand times," he said, speaking over the muffled clash of swords, "Tve successfully found ten thousand ways that won't work.”
― The Whispering Dark
“And what word do you have for me," she whispered.
He regarded her for a long moment before bringing a hand to his chest. Before tapping it against his sternum. Once. Twice. The sign for mine.
Her breath caught. Leaning in close, he pressed a kiss to the pulse beneath her ear. Her body arched instantly into his, like they were strung all together. Twin marionettes, their strings hopelessly twisted.
A creature who walked with the dead and a woman who drew them close. He would never not be caught in her orbit.
"Mine," he said aloud. The word came out serrated.
"Mine." It felt so good to finally say it. His hands slid around her back, and then she was flush against him, her hands twisting in the curls at the nape of his neck, her mouth seeking his in the dark.”
― The Whispering Dark
He regarded her for a long moment before bringing a hand to his chest. Before tapping it against his sternum. Once. Twice. The sign for mine.
Her breath caught. Leaning in close, he pressed a kiss to the pulse beneath her ear. Her body arched instantly into his, like they were strung all together. Twin marionettes, their strings hopelessly twisted.
A creature who walked with the dead and a woman who drew them close. He would never not be caught in her orbit.
"Mine," he said aloud. The word came out serrated.
"Mine." It felt so good to finally say it. His hands slid around her back, and then she was flush against him, her hands twisting in the curls at the nape of his neck, her mouth seeking his in the dark.”
― The Whispering Dark
The Bookish Circle
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— last activity Jun 28, 2016 08:16PM
Hello booklovers! If you love fangirling and sharing your thoughts about books then this bookclub is for you! We will be reading one book each mont ...more
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