Seducing Mr. Knightley - Maya Rodale
Life takes a strange turn upon occasion, does it not?
He would talk. They always did with the hangman's noose swaying in the not-too-far-future.
Funny, the power of an almost kiss.
Cool verging on cold.
Did love really require grand gestures? Wasn't true love to be found in the little things, like holding one's hand or sitting comfortably around a gentle fire?
(Like) the world had met her low expectations.
That was the problem with longstanding friends -- they felt utterly free to go too far and to enjoy every step they took over the line.
He drank, as a man is wont to do when confronted with his innermost emotions, particularly ones pertaining to the heart.
I think you might be absolutely mad, but that is always what they say of the most courageous.
We might as well go for broke.
There was something wild and exciting about a man who might be imprisoned. It meant he was bold, daring, adventurous, as if he could be a hero or a villain in equal measure.
Fools will persist in their madness, will they not?
It involves a lover, of course, as all great gossip does.
Practical Magic - Alice Hoffman
The moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun longs for something dark and deep.
Desire had a way of making people oddly courageous.
The most dangerous thing of all in matters of love was to be granted your heart's desire.
Some people cannot be warned away from disaster.
Real love was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn't let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Goodness, in their opinion, was not a virtue but merely spinelessness and fear disguised as humility.
Sometimes the right thing felt all wrong until it was over and done with.
Crossed knives set out on the dinner table means there's bound to be a quarrel.
Everything goes wrong if you give it enough time.
A white lie doesn't count if you cross your fingers behind your back, or if you tell it so that someone you love will stop crying.
If a woman is trouble, she should always wear blue for protection.
People want to ignore what they can't understand.
Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.
Unrequited love is so boring.
Two sisters cannot live in the same house and ignore each other for long.
It's easy to forget what you do in the dark, if you need to.
Grief is all around; it's just invisible to most people.
Pride is a funny thing; it can make what is truly worthless appear to be a treasure.
You can usually uncover the truth, or a version of it at any rate, if you ask enough questions.
The greatest portion of grief is the one you dish out for yourself.
There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
The easiest kind of lying is when you leave things out of a story rather than make them up.
When someone won't let you in, eventually you stop knocking.
A supernova in miniature.
What an unchallenging life it would be if we always got things right on the first go.
I used to dream about escaping my ordinary life, but my life was never ordinary. I had simply failed to notice how extraordinary it was.
How To Tame Your Duke - Juliana Gray
Beware the man who has nothing at all to say for himself.
Is it not strange that love borders so much open hate? But this wicked love is not like the true virtuous love, to be sure: that and hatred must be as far off, as light and darkness. And how must this hate have been increased, if he had met with such a base compliance, after his wicked will had been gratified.
How To Master Your Marquis - Juliana Gray
Only a man with something to hide kept his face from revealing anything at all.
Pain didn't exist in finite quantities that could be transferred to someone else. Pain was elastic, it stretched and grew.
Perhaps it was true, that in suffering for another's sake you achieved some sort of absolution for your own sins, uncounted and unpunished.
The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton - Miranda Neville
When a gentleman offers advice, pretend to consider it before doing whatever you originally planned.
The tyranny of affection is hard to withstand.
Dismiss the follies of your youth and hope others are equally forgetful.
When it comes to a book, the good bits are always worth reading again.
It's easy to be brave when nothing threatens you.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Child of the 90's
Thank you, Microsoft, for coming up with this extremely wonderful and nostalgic ad.
We will always have the 90's.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Quotedump
Bridget Jones: Mad About The Boy, Helen Fielding
Poleaxed by pain, as though a great stake was ramming me to the bed, straight to the heart, unable to move in case I disturbed the pain and it spread.
KBO: Keep Buggering On.
Better to die of botox than die of loneliness because you're so wrinkly.
It's always nice when things go badly for other people. Especially when they've just been rude to you.
You see, this is the trouble with the modern world. If it was the days of letter-writing, I would never have even started to find a pen, a piece of paper, an envelope, a stamp, and Leatherjacketman's home address and gone outside at 11:30pm with two children asleep in the house to find a postbox. A text is gone at the brush of a fingertip, like a nuclear bomb or Exocet missile.
THE DATING RULES:
* Do not text when drunk
* Always be classy, never be crazy
* Be on time
* Use Authentic Communication
* Do not go to the wrong place
* Do not confuse him. Be rational, congruent, and consistent.
* Do not obsess or fantasize.
* Do not obsess or fantasize when driving.
* Respons to what is actually going on, not what you wish was going on.
* On first date just go along with whatever he suggests (unless Morris dancing, dogfight, obvious booty call, etc.)
* Be sure he makes you feel happy.
* Try to retain some vestige of objectivity.
* When he comes, we welcome. When he goes, we let him go.
* Don't get stoned or pissed out of brain.
* Be calm smiling goddess of light.
* Allow things to unfold like a petal at their own pace, e.g. do not demand to make third date in insecure panic in middle of sex on second date.
* Wear something sexy but that you feel comfortable in.
* Stay calm, confident, and centered re: whole thing -- consider meditation, hypnotherapy, psychotherapy, antipsychotic medication, etc.
* Don't come on too obviously strong, but do do sensual things like stroking stem of wine glass up and down.
* Don't pre-arrange first-time sex.
* Don't try to have sex too soon.
* Don't make him feel caged.
* Never mention any of the following: exes, how fat you are, how insecure you are, problems, issues, money, cellulite, Botox, liposuction, facial peels/ lasers/ microdermabrasion, etc., control undergarments, possible shared parking permits when married, seating plans for wedding reception, babysitters, marriage/ religion (unless you've just realized he's a polygamous Mormon, in which case get blind drunk and bring up all of the previous in one hysterical gabble and excuse yourself because you feel fat and have to get back for the babysitter).
* Create beautiful memories.
* Do not text while drunk.
There's nothing nicer than a friend who claims her own children are more badly behaved than your own.
It's an interesting thing, the ages at which men and women want each other more than the other does:
TWENTIES: Women have the upper hand because pretty much everyone wants to shag them so they have a lot of power. And twenty-something men are super-horny but haven't made it in their careers yet.
THIRTIES: Men definitely have the upper hand. Thirties is the worst possible time for a woman to be dating: whole thing increasingly loaded by biologically unfair ticking clock: a clock which will hopefully soon be transformed, by the perfection of Jude-style egg-freezing, into silent digital clock with no need for an alarm. Meanwhile, men sense it like sharks scenting blood and are also simultaneously perfecting their careers, so the balance tips more and more in their favor until...
FORTIES: Not sure about this because I was with Mark most of the time. Maybe about equal? If you take babies out of the equation. Or maybe men think they're on top because they think they want younger women and think age-equivalent women want them. But actually secretly the women equally want younger men. And the younger men like the older women because they're refreshingly not looking to them to be breadwinners and not thinking about babies any more.
FIFTIES: It used to be the age of Germaine Greer's "Invisible Woman", branded as non-viable, post-menopausal sitcom fodder. But now with the Talitha school of branding combined with Kim Cattrall, Julianne and Demi Moore, etc. is all starting to change!
SIXTIES: Balance completely shifting, as men realize they've got as far as they're going to get in their careers and that they've never really made friends in the way women do, but just talked about golf and stuff. And women take better care of themselves -- look at Helen Mirren and Joanna Lumley!
SEVENTIES: Definitely women have the upper hand, and still do themselves out nicely, and make a nice home and cook and --
Love feeling that there is someone else out there who cares about all the little things you yourself get excited about.
The fantastic thing about texting is that it allows you to have an instant, intimate, emotional relationship giving each other a running commentary on your lives, without taking up any time whatsoever or involving meetings or arrangements or any of the complicated things which take place in the boring old non-cyber world.
After a certain age, people are just going to do what they're going to do and you're either going to accept them as they are or you're not.
There was such a rush of joy and relief that we were back with that secure feeling of knowing someone cares, and understands your sense of humor, and it wasn't all cold and empty and over, we were still there.
We do not wallow. We do not descend into feelings of being crap with men. We do not think that everyone else's life is perfect except ours.
It only takes a really bad thing to nearly happen to make you appreciate what you have.
**
Allegiant, Veronica Roth
She is a woman of muscle twisted around bone.
Chaos and destruction do tend to take away a person's dating possibilities.
When you kill someone you love, the hard part is never over. It just gets easier to distract yourself from what you've done.
Confidence alone can get a person into a forbidden place.
The dauntless serum gives hallucinated realities, Candor's gives truth, Amity's gives peace, Erudite's gives death, Abnegation's resets memory.
Dauntless: brave but cruel
Erudite: intelligent but vain
Amity: peaceful but passive
Candor: honest but inconsiderate
Abnegation: selfless but stifling
People can't really be trusted to lie consistently.
Tricking someone into grief is one of the cruelest tricks a person can play.
Desperation can make a person do surprising things.
Knowledge is power. Power to do evil... or power to do good. Power itself is not evil. So knowledge itself is not evil.
It's not always wise to strike as hard as you can at the first opportunity.
If someone offers you an opportunity to get closer to your enemy, you always take it.
Such a grim view of human nature you have.
When you control information, or manipulate it, you don't need force to keep people under your thumb. They stay there willingly.
I am wary of desperate people.
There's bravery and then there's masochism.
I used to think that when people fell in love, they just landed where they landed, and they had no choice in the matter afterward. And maybe that's true of beginnings, but it's not true of this, now... I fell in love with him. But I don't just stay with him by default as if there's no one else available to me. I stay with him because I choose to, every day that I wake up, every day that we fight or lie to each other or disappoint each other. I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me.
Don't confuse your grief with guilt.
When someone wrongs you, you both share the burden of that wrongdoing -- the pain of it weighs on both of you. Forgiveness, then, means choosing to bear the full weight all by yourself.
It's not often you encounter the real person behind a good-natured mask, the darkest parts of someone. It's not comfortable when you do.
Maybe forgiveness is just the continual pushing aside of bitter memories, until time dulls the hurt and the anger, and the wrong is forgotten.
A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.
Life damages us, every one.
**
Firefly Lane, Kristin Hannah
Drama, she'd learned, was like good punctuation: it underscored your point.
Here's what they didn't teach you in college: Get into the middle of it. Wade in.
You want a lot from this world. Me, I just want you.
No one bruised as easily as a believer.
That was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, making you laugh even in your darkest hours.
They'd loved each other. With the wisdom of time and the passing of years, she knew that. She knew, too, that love didn't evaporate. It faded, perhaps, lost its weight like bones left out in the sun, but it didn't go away.
Keep lighting the world on fire. Those words were both an encouragement and an indictment.
Motherhood at times like this - most times - was about the steel in your spine, not the bend.
That was the sly, ruinous thing about motherhood, the thing that twisted your insides with guilt and made you change your mind and lower your standards: giving in was so damn easy.
**
Let It Snow, John Green Maureen Johnson & Lauren Myracle
Proximity doesn't breed familiarity.
Behind every facade of perfection is a writhing mess of subterfuge and secret sorrows.
He wasn't flawless. He had no single amazing feature. Instead, he had a confluence of agreeable aspects that were accepted by one and all add up to one very attractive whole, perfectly packaged in the right clothes.
Something about me has always liked the drama and inconvenience of bad weather. The worse the better, really.
A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions.
I always had this idea that you should never give up a happy middle in the hopes of a happy ending, because there is no such thing as a happy ending. There is so much to lose.
**
Queen of Babble in the Big City, Meg Cabot
To find out a girl's faults, praise her to her girlfriends. - Benjamin Franklin
Love and Scandal are the best sweeteners of tea. - Helen Fielding
**
Queen of Babble Gets Hitched, Meg Cabot
Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same. - Emily Bronte
It's a really good show, he says, I mean, if you're ever in the mood to examine one of the bleaker examples of the depraved depths to which we as a society have sunk. Or at least the depraved depths to which the entertainment industry is determined to make us think we've sunk.
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.
- John Donne
**
Queen of Babble, Meg Cabot
It's much easier to walk away than it is to have to explain to someone that you never want to see them again.
The dawn of the twentieth century is often referred to as la Belle Epoque, or "the beautiful age".
**
The Sum of All Kisses, Julia Quinn
Hearts didn't sink so much as they did a tight panicky squeeze.
I find awkward conversations to be very diverting.
I have found that happy people are dull.
A man had to take his triumphs where he could.
In general, it was never good to deny something that was indisputably true.
**
Emma, Jane Austen
The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of having too much her own way, and a disposition to think too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.
Success supposes endeavor.
What is passable in youth is detestable in later age.
Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do.
Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief.
A single woman, of good fortune, is always respectable.
One cannot love a reserved person.
I would much rather have been merry than wise.
There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. - You hear nothing but truth from me. - I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.
Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure.
It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble.
**
An Abundance of Katherines, John Green
He wanted to draw out the moment before the moment - because as good as kissing feels, nothing feels as good as the anticipation of it.
That smile could end wars and cure cancer.
Myopia. He was nearsighted. The future lay before him, inevitable but invisible.
The mysterium tremendum et fascinans - that stomach-flipping mix of awestruck fear and entrancing fascination.
They like their coffee like they like their ex-boyfriends: bitter.
Schadenfreud, finding pleasure in others' pain.
The great and terrible awe.
You can never love a person as much as you can miss them.
Books are the ultimate dumpees: put them down and they'll wait for you forever; pay attention to them and they'll always love you back.
Je pense que je t'aime. I think that I like you.
**
Attachments, Rainbow Rowell
Second verse same as the first.
"You're done with the future?" "I'm tightening my focus."
I believe that worrying about a bad thing prepares you for when it comes.
The whole point of clothing is to hide your shame.
Things get better - hurt less - over time. If you let them.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" "I don't know, do you believe in love before that?"
**
Eleanor & Park, Rainbow Rowell
Gym was an extension of hell.
She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.
There are 2 kinds of girls: the smart ones and the ones boys like.
**
Dusk With A Dangerous Duke, Alexandra Hawkins
The dowager did not believe in false praise or coddling. In her opinion, it fostered weakness.
"What lady concerns herself with honor?" "One worth fighting to keep."
There is no such thing as freedom, my girl. Not the sort you are dreaming about. We are all tethered in numerous ways: family, duty, expectations of our neighbors, need to fill you empty belly...
Greedy hostesses are reluctant to allow wealthy bachelors to slip through their fingers.
Only a weak-minded fool would allow a woman to dictate his life.
Truth is as deadly as a double-edged sword.
You would provoke the devil himself to violence.
Your confidence in your fellow man astounds me.
**
Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn
My eyes flipped open at exactly six a.m. This was no avian fluttering of the lashes, no gentle blink toward consciousness. The awakening was mechanical. A spooky ventriloquist-dummy click of the lids: the world is black and then, showtime! 6-0-0 the clock said - in my face, first thing I saw. 6-0-0. It felt different. I rarely woke at such a rounded time. I was a man of jagged risings: 8:43, 11:51, 9:26. My life was alarm less.
Should I remove my soul before I come inside?
The late 90's, the last gasp of the glory days, although no one knew it then.
My kind of writers: aspiring novelists, ruminative thinkers, people whose brain don't work quick enough to blog or link or tweet, basically old, stubborn blowhards.
Suicide is painless.
There's something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.
Oh, here is the rest of my life. It's finally arrived.
I contain and I compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.
My wife had a brilliant, popping brain, a greedy curiosity. But her obsessions tended to be fueled by competition: she needed to dazzle men and jealous-ify women.
Dad is always a proponent of a good indulgent sulk.
Most beautiful, good things are done by women people scorn.
The bankruptcy matched my psyche perfectly. For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child's boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself a derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time.
The thing that makes me want to blow my brains out is: the second hand experience is always better.
It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless automat of characters.
In the space of a vengeful second.
The worst feeling: when you just have to wait and prepare yourself for the lie.
Lovesick words, hateful intentions.
All those things that spineless women say, confusing their weakness with morality.
Most men have sports as the lingua-franca of dudes.
The iceman melteth!
You sleep the sleep of the damned.
Unconditional love is an undisciplined love, and as we all have seen, undisciplined love is disastrous.
Poleaxed by pain, as though a great stake was ramming me to the bed, straight to the heart, unable to move in case I disturbed the pain and it spread.
KBO: Keep Buggering On.
Better to die of botox than die of loneliness because you're so wrinkly.
It's always nice when things go badly for other people. Especially when they've just been rude to you.
You see, this is the trouble with the modern world. If it was the days of letter-writing, I would never have even started to find a pen, a piece of paper, an envelope, a stamp, and Leatherjacketman's home address and gone outside at 11:30pm with two children asleep in the house to find a postbox. A text is gone at the brush of a fingertip, like a nuclear bomb or Exocet missile.
THE DATING RULES:
* Do not text when drunk
* Always be classy, never be crazy
* Be on time
* Use Authentic Communication
* Do not go to the wrong place
* Do not confuse him. Be rational, congruent, and consistent.
* Do not obsess or fantasize.
* Do not obsess or fantasize when driving.
* Respons to what is actually going on, not what you wish was going on.
* On first date just go along with whatever he suggests (unless Morris dancing, dogfight, obvious booty call, etc.)
* Be sure he makes you feel happy.
* Try to retain some vestige of objectivity.
* When he comes, we welcome. When he goes, we let him go.
* Don't get stoned or pissed out of brain.
* Be calm smiling goddess of light.
* Allow things to unfold like a petal at their own pace, e.g. do not demand to make third date in insecure panic in middle of sex on second date.
* Wear something sexy but that you feel comfortable in.
* Stay calm, confident, and centered re: whole thing -- consider meditation, hypnotherapy, psychotherapy, antipsychotic medication, etc.
* Don't come on too obviously strong, but do do sensual things like stroking stem of wine glass up and down.
* Don't pre-arrange first-time sex.
* Don't try to have sex too soon.
* Don't make him feel caged.
* Never mention any of the following: exes, how fat you are, how insecure you are, problems, issues, money, cellulite, Botox, liposuction, facial peels/ lasers/ microdermabrasion, etc., control undergarments, possible shared parking permits when married, seating plans for wedding reception, babysitters, marriage/ religion (unless you've just realized he's a polygamous Mormon, in which case get blind drunk and bring up all of the previous in one hysterical gabble and excuse yourself because you feel fat and have to get back for the babysitter).
* Create beautiful memories.
* Do not text while drunk.
There's nothing nicer than a friend who claims her own children are more badly behaved than your own.
It's an interesting thing, the ages at which men and women want each other more than the other does:
TWENTIES: Women have the upper hand because pretty much everyone wants to shag them so they have a lot of power. And twenty-something men are super-horny but haven't made it in their careers yet.
THIRTIES: Men definitely have the upper hand. Thirties is the worst possible time for a woman to be dating: whole thing increasingly loaded by biologically unfair ticking clock: a clock which will hopefully soon be transformed, by the perfection of Jude-style egg-freezing, into silent digital clock with no need for an alarm. Meanwhile, men sense it like sharks scenting blood and are also simultaneously perfecting their careers, so the balance tips more and more in their favor until...
FORTIES: Not sure about this because I was with Mark most of the time. Maybe about equal? If you take babies out of the equation. Or maybe men think they're on top because they think they want younger women and think age-equivalent women want them. But actually secretly the women equally want younger men. And the younger men like the older women because they're refreshingly not looking to them to be breadwinners and not thinking about babies any more.
FIFTIES: It used to be the age of Germaine Greer's "Invisible Woman", branded as non-viable, post-menopausal sitcom fodder. But now with the Talitha school of branding combined with Kim Cattrall, Julianne and Demi Moore, etc. is all starting to change!
SIXTIES: Balance completely shifting, as men realize they've got as far as they're going to get in their careers and that they've never really made friends in the way women do, but just talked about golf and stuff. And women take better care of themselves -- look at Helen Mirren and Joanna Lumley!
SEVENTIES: Definitely women have the upper hand, and still do themselves out nicely, and make a nice home and cook and --
Love feeling that there is someone else out there who cares about all the little things you yourself get excited about.
The fantastic thing about texting is that it allows you to have an instant, intimate, emotional relationship giving each other a running commentary on your lives, without taking up any time whatsoever or involving meetings or arrangements or any of the complicated things which take place in the boring old non-cyber world.
After a certain age, people are just going to do what they're going to do and you're either going to accept them as they are or you're not.
There was such a rush of joy and relief that we were back with that secure feeling of knowing someone cares, and understands your sense of humor, and it wasn't all cold and empty and over, we were still there.
We do not wallow. We do not descend into feelings of being crap with men. We do not think that everyone else's life is perfect except ours.
It only takes a really bad thing to nearly happen to make you appreciate what you have.
**
Allegiant, Veronica Roth
She is a woman of muscle twisted around bone.
Chaos and destruction do tend to take away a person's dating possibilities.
When you kill someone you love, the hard part is never over. It just gets easier to distract yourself from what you've done.
Confidence alone can get a person into a forbidden place.
The dauntless serum gives hallucinated realities, Candor's gives truth, Amity's gives peace, Erudite's gives death, Abnegation's resets memory.
Dauntless: brave but cruel
Erudite: intelligent but vain
Amity: peaceful but passive
Candor: honest but inconsiderate
Abnegation: selfless but stifling
People can't really be trusted to lie consistently.
Tricking someone into grief is one of the cruelest tricks a person can play.
Desperation can make a person do surprising things.
Knowledge is power. Power to do evil... or power to do good. Power itself is not evil. So knowledge itself is not evil.
It's not always wise to strike as hard as you can at the first opportunity.
If someone offers you an opportunity to get closer to your enemy, you always take it.
Such a grim view of human nature you have.
When you control information, or manipulate it, you don't need force to keep people under your thumb. They stay there willingly.
I am wary of desperate people.
There's bravery and then there's masochism.
I used to think that when people fell in love, they just landed where they landed, and they had no choice in the matter afterward. And maybe that's true of beginnings, but it's not true of this, now... I fell in love with him. But I don't just stay with him by default as if there's no one else available to me. I stay with him because I choose to, every day that I wake up, every day that we fight or lie to each other or disappoint each other. I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me.
Don't confuse your grief with guilt.
When someone wrongs you, you both share the burden of that wrongdoing -- the pain of it weighs on both of you. Forgiveness, then, means choosing to bear the full weight all by yourself.
It's not often you encounter the real person behind a good-natured mask, the darkest parts of someone. It's not comfortable when you do.
Maybe forgiveness is just the continual pushing aside of bitter memories, until time dulls the hurt and the anger, and the wrong is forgotten.
A fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.
Life damages us, every one.
**
Firefly Lane, Kristin Hannah
Drama, she'd learned, was like good punctuation: it underscored your point.
Here's what they didn't teach you in college: Get into the middle of it. Wade in.
You want a lot from this world. Me, I just want you.
No one bruised as easily as a believer.
That was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, making you laugh even in your darkest hours.
They'd loved each other. With the wisdom of time and the passing of years, she knew that. She knew, too, that love didn't evaporate. It faded, perhaps, lost its weight like bones left out in the sun, but it didn't go away.
Keep lighting the world on fire. Those words were both an encouragement and an indictment.
Motherhood at times like this - most times - was about the steel in your spine, not the bend.
That was the sly, ruinous thing about motherhood, the thing that twisted your insides with guilt and made you change your mind and lower your standards: giving in was so damn easy.
**
Let It Snow, John Green Maureen Johnson & Lauren Myracle
Proximity doesn't breed familiarity.
Behind every facade of perfection is a writhing mess of subterfuge and secret sorrows.
He wasn't flawless. He had no single amazing feature. Instead, he had a confluence of agreeable aspects that were accepted by one and all add up to one very attractive whole, perfectly packaged in the right clothes.
Something about me has always liked the drama and inconvenience of bad weather. The worse the better, really.
A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions.
I always had this idea that you should never give up a happy middle in the hopes of a happy ending, because there is no such thing as a happy ending. There is so much to lose.
**
Queen of Babble in the Big City, Meg Cabot
To find out a girl's faults, praise her to her girlfriends. - Benjamin Franklin
Love and Scandal are the best sweeteners of tea. - Helen Fielding
**
Queen of Babble Gets Hitched, Meg Cabot
Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same. - Emily Bronte
It's a really good show, he says, I mean, if you're ever in the mood to examine one of the bleaker examples of the depraved depths to which we as a society have sunk. Or at least the depraved depths to which the entertainment industry is determined to make us think we've sunk.
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.
- John Donne
**
Queen of Babble, Meg Cabot
It's much easier to walk away than it is to have to explain to someone that you never want to see them again.
The dawn of the twentieth century is often referred to as la Belle Epoque, or "the beautiful age".
**
The Sum of All Kisses, Julia Quinn
Hearts didn't sink so much as they did a tight panicky squeeze.
I find awkward conversations to be very diverting.
I have found that happy people are dull.
A man had to take his triumphs where he could.
In general, it was never good to deny something that was indisputably true.
**
Emma, Jane Austen
The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of having too much her own way, and a disposition to think too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.
Success supposes endeavor.
What is passable in youth is detestable in later age.
Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do.
Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief.
A single woman, of good fortune, is always respectable.
One cannot love a reserved person.
I would much rather have been merry than wise.
There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart.
If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. - You hear nothing but truth from me. - I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.
Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure.
It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble.
**
An Abundance of Katherines, John Green
He wanted to draw out the moment before the moment - because as good as kissing feels, nothing feels as good as the anticipation of it.
That smile could end wars and cure cancer.
Myopia. He was nearsighted. The future lay before him, inevitable but invisible.
The mysterium tremendum et fascinans - that stomach-flipping mix of awestruck fear and entrancing fascination.
They like their coffee like they like their ex-boyfriends: bitter.
Schadenfreud, finding pleasure in others' pain.
The great and terrible awe.
You can never love a person as much as you can miss them.
Books are the ultimate dumpees: put them down and they'll wait for you forever; pay attention to them and they'll always love you back.
Je pense que je t'aime. I think that I like you.
**
Attachments, Rainbow Rowell
Second verse same as the first.
"You're done with the future?" "I'm tightening my focus."
I believe that worrying about a bad thing prepares you for when it comes.
The whole point of clothing is to hide your shame.
Things get better - hurt less - over time. If you let them.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" "I don't know, do you believe in love before that?"
**
Eleanor & Park, Rainbow Rowell
Gym was an extension of hell.
She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.
There are 2 kinds of girls: the smart ones and the ones boys like.
**
Dusk With A Dangerous Duke, Alexandra Hawkins
The dowager did not believe in false praise or coddling. In her opinion, it fostered weakness.
"What lady concerns herself with honor?" "One worth fighting to keep."
There is no such thing as freedom, my girl. Not the sort you are dreaming about. We are all tethered in numerous ways: family, duty, expectations of our neighbors, need to fill you empty belly...
Greedy hostesses are reluctant to allow wealthy bachelors to slip through their fingers.
Only a weak-minded fool would allow a woman to dictate his life.
Truth is as deadly as a double-edged sword.
You would provoke the devil himself to violence.
Your confidence in your fellow man astounds me.
**
Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn
My eyes flipped open at exactly six a.m. This was no avian fluttering of the lashes, no gentle blink toward consciousness. The awakening was mechanical. A spooky ventriloquist-dummy click of the lids: the world is black and then, showtime! 6-0-0 the clock said - in my face, first thing I saw. 6-0-0. It felt different. I rarely woke at such a rounded time. I was a man of jagged risings: 8:43, 11:51, 9:26. My life was alarm less.
Should I remove my soul before I come inside?
The late 90's, the last gasp of the glory days, although no one knew it then.
My kind of writers: aspiring novelists, ruminative thinkers, people whose brain don't work quick enough to blog or link or tweet, basically old, stubborn blowhards.
Suicide is painless.
There's something disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.
Oh, here is the rest of my life. It's finally arrived.
I contain and I compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.
My wife had a brilliant, popping brain, a greedy curiosity. But her obsessions tended to be fueled by competition: she needed to dazzle men and jealous-ify women.
Dad is always a proponent of a good indulgent sulk.
Most beautiful, good things are done by women people scorn.
The bankruptcy matched my psyche perfectly. For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child's boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself a derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time.
The thing that makes me want to blow my brains out is: the second hand experience is always better.
It's a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless automat of characters.
In the space of a vengeful second.
The worst feeling: when you just have to wait and prepare yourself for the lie.
Lovesick words, hateful intentions.
All those things that spineless women say, confusing their weakness with morality.
Most men have sports as the lingua-franca of dudes.
The iceman melteth!
You sleep the sleep of the damned.
Unconditional love is an undisciplined love, and as we all have seen, undisciplined love is disastrous.
Monday, November 25, 2013
On Millennials
"I am a millennial. Generation Y, born between the birth of aids and 9/11 give or take. They call us the Global Generation. We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. Some say it’s because we’re the first generation where every kid gets a trophy just for showing up. Others think it’s because social media allows us to post whenever we fart or have a sandwich for all the world to see. But it seems that our one defining trait is a numbness to the world, an indifference to suffering. I know that I did anything I could to not feel — sex, drugs, booze. Just take away the pain. Take away my mother and my asshole father and the press. Take away the boys I loved who wouldn’t love me back. Hell, I was gang-raped, two days later I was back in class like nothing happened. I mean that must have hurt like hell, right? Most people never get over stuff like that, and I was like, ‘Let’s go for Jamba Juice.’ I would give everything I have or have ever had just to feel pain again. To feel hurt." - AHS
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Vainglory
"The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one."
- The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger.
Shaming those who are posting selfies (of which I am not a fan) is counterproductive. Who are you to say that this person is self-centered? How do you know he or she isn't just posting a photo of his or her self post volunteering for 12 hours?
Silence does not equate to apathy. Just because some people are not as vocal about their volunteer work does not mean that they do not care.
Labels:
Alessandra Pamandanan,
Essa Pamandanan,
Haiyan,
Les Pamandanan,
Manila,
Philippines,
Storm,
tragedy,
typhoon,
Yolanda
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Quotedump: House of hades
'Choices' said Hecate. 'You stand at the crossroads, Hazel Levesque. And I am the Goddess of Crossroads.'
'He would have you believe that all choices are black or white, yes or no, in or out. In fact, it's not that simple. Whenever you reach the crossroads, there are always at least three ways to go... four, if you count going backwards.'
Spes, Goddess of Hope.
The greatest heroes didn't get happy endings.
Cocytus. The river of lamentation.
In the old days, people called the seventh month the ghost month. That's when the spirit world and the human world were closest.
All great warriors are afraid. Only the stupid and the delusional are not.
There wasn't much difference between longing and greed.
Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work - a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you - especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards. - Cupid
Love was the most savage monster of all.
'Oh, I wouldn't say Love always makes you happy.' His voice sounded smaller, much more human. 'Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad.'
Misery is eternal.
The woman was beautiful in a timeless, regal way -- like a statue you might admire but could never love. Her eyes sparkled with malice.
'He would have you believe that all choices are black or white, yes or no, in or out. In fact, it's not that simple. Whenever you reach the crossroads, there are always at least three ways to go... four, if you count going backwards.'
Spes, Goddess of Hope.
The greatest heroes didn't get happy endings.
Cocytus. The river of lamentation.
In the old days, people called the seventh month the ghost month. That's when the spirit world and the human world were closest.
All great warriors are afraid. Only the stupid and the delusional are not.
There wasn't much difference between longing and greed.
Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work - a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you - especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards. - Cupid
Love was the most savage monster of all.
'Oh, I wouldn't say Love always makes you happy.' His voice sounded smaller, much more human. 'Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad.'
Misery is eternal.
The woman was beautiful in a timeless, regal way -- like a statue you might admire but could never love. Her eyes sparkled with malice.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Number 2
What's it like being number 2?
No one asks that question. I guess it's taboo to make someone aware that they aren't top pick. I guess it isn't kind to point to someone that they just didn't make the cut. Or were too late. Or were just not reason enough to wait. No one asks that question, and therefore no one ever gets to answer it.
Well, here it is.
Being number 2 is not so much as being the 2nd winner, as it is being the 1st loser. Being number 2 is a series of heartbreaks. Take it from me.
Loving someone who has already loved - really loved - someone before you feels like being the second wife. It's a lot like being in a relationship with someone just recently divorced. You get a version of the great person they are, deep down in their bones, only you get it second-hand. You get it with the minor scratches that no one really notices until inspected up close. You get it with the bumps and cracks that were painstakingly covered with smiles and laughter. You get it with the lingering feeling of not really owning it, not possessing it. You get it with the knowledge that this wasn't - isn't - really yours. Not really. This was not made for you, it is not a perfect fit. And slowly, the realization that you will never ever be their first choice, that some time in the past they have decided to forfeit even the possibility of meeting someone like you, and they made it willingly and, deep breath here, happily dawns on you. You were not worth the wait. You weren't their first choice, even if they hadn't even known about you then. The person you were dreaming of... well, that person didn't dream about you back. And that's your first heartbreak.
Nothing hurts like the first heartbreak.
Slowly, you learn to accept that. Slowly, you learn to come to terms with the fact that you just weren't at the right place at the right time. Or you think you have. Or you fool your partner into thinking you have while it festers inside you like cancer. And making your partner feel secure is really the best choice you have right now. It's the only choice you have. So you pick yourself up from the heartbreak and you dust your weary heart off. Until, one day, you are confronted with more than just the little theoretical knowledge that you are second best. You begin to find old pieces of dear number 1 in your life, your house, your partner. You begin to notice that your greatest humiliation -- that you aren't first choice -- isn't just being witnessed by you. It's being witnessed by your partner too. He knows. And you thought that of the little pride you had left, it would at least end in only YOU knowing you're a phony. But you couldn't have even that.
I guess it's unfair to demand to be someone's first real love. Feelings are feelings and forcing them out of the way never ends well, take it from the books. I've just always felt like it was a sort of unspoken agreement between all feeling beings of the world that love -- that tiny tiny thing that keeps us from literally just losing it (whatever it is) -- is a sacred act given only once. You can love someone, sure. We all have pasts, right? But isn't it sort of a rule that after having your heart trampled on, you write that entire relationship off as "I thought it was love, but it wasn't. It was just something like it."? If not, then it really should be. In my past, I thought I had been in love, but after each broken heart, I realized that love is not painful. NOT EVER. And so I don't consider myself as having ever been in love. And meeting someone, being committed to someone, who so adamantly and wholly admits to loving someone - someone who is most definitely and decidedly NOT you - is like taking a bullet. Again and again and again.
And after all of that, you begin to doubt yourself. You stop seeing yourself in that light that can come from being the only true person to know all of your feelings and goodness.
Being someone's second love is a very tough act. I will always applaud people who can get into relationships with divorcees, because take it from me, being number 2 is a mind-numbingly painful thing to be.
No one asks that question. I guess it's taboo to make someone aware that they aren't top pick. I guess it isn't kind to point to someone that they just didn't make the cut. Or were too late. Or were just not reason enough to wait. No one asks that question, and therefore no one ever gets to answer it.
Well, here it is.
Being number 2 is not so much as being the 2nd winner, as it is being the 1st loser. Being number 2 is a series of heartbreaks. Take it from me.
Loving someone who has already loved - really loved - someone before you feels like being the second wife. It's a lot like being in a relationship with someone just recently divorced. You get a version of the great person they are, deep down in their bones, only you get it second-hand. You get it with the minor scratches that no one really notices until inspected up close. You get it with the bumps and cracks that were painstakingly covered with smiles and laughter. You get it with the lingering feeling of not really owning it, not possessing it. You get it with the knowledge that this wasn't - isn't - really yours. Not really. This was not made for you, it is not a perfect fit. And slowly, the realization that you will never ever be their first choice, that some time in the past they have decided to forfeit even the possibility of meeting someone like you, and they made it willingly and, deep breath here, happily dawns on you. You were not worth the wait. You weren't their first choice, even if they hadn't even known about you then. The person you were dreaming of... well, that person didn't dream about you back. And that's your first heartbreak.
Nothing hurts like the first heartbreak.
Slowly, you learn to accept that. Slowly, you learn to come to terms with the fact that you just weren't at the right place at the right time. Or you think you have. Or you fool your partner into thinking you have while it festers inside you like cancer. And making your partner feel secure is really the best choice you have right now. It's the only choice you have. So you pick yourself up from the heartbreak and you dust your weary heart off. Until, one day, you are confronted with more than just the little theoretical knowledge that you are second best. You begin to find old pieces of dear number 1 in your life, your house, your partner. You begin to notice that your greatest humiliation -- that you aren't first choice -- isn't just being witnessed by you. It's being witnessed by your partner too. He knows. And you thought that of the little pride you had left, it would at least end in only YOU knowing you're a phony. But you couldn't have even that.
I guess it's unfair to demand to be someone's first real love. Feelings are feelings and forcing them out of the way never ends well, take it from the books. I've just always felt like it was a sort of unspoken agreement between all feeling beings of the world that love -- that tiny tiny thing that keeps us from literally just losing it (whatever it is) -- is a sacred act given only once. You can love someone, sure. We all have pasts, right? But isn't it sort of a rule that after having your heart trampled on, you write that entire relationship off as "I thought it was love, but it wasn't. It was just something like it."? If not, then it really should be. In my past, I thought I had been in love, but after each broken heart, I realized that love is not painful. NOT EVER. And so I don't consider myself as having ever been in love. And meeting someone, being committed to someone, who so adamantly and wholly admits to loving someone - someone who is most definitely and decidedly NOT you - is like taking a bullet. Again and again and again.
And after all of that, you begin to doubt yourself. You stop seeing yourself in that light that can come from being the only true person to know all of your feelings and goodness.
Being someone's second love is a very tough act. I will always applaud people who can get into relationships with divorcees, because take it from me, being number 2 is a mind-numbingly painful thing to be.
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