Damask Bedding Quotes & Sayings

It is not usually possible in a poem or a story to make the relationship between particular and universal fully explicit. Those who try to do so end up writing parables. — John Berger

The answer almost unmanned me. — Wilkie Collins

Stories only happen to those who are able to tell them. — Paul Auster

Peer review was an excellent system by which academics could either anonymously censor others with whom they disagreed, or hide from controversy after they signed off on truth that the public couldn't stomach. — B.C. Chase

She was sitting on the floor, naked, in a skitter of green bills. Beyond her was the custodian, still simpering in death. She was scooping up handfuls of the green money and dropping it on top of her head so that it came sliding down along the cream-colored hair, slipping down along her shoulders and body. She was making a noise I never heard come out of a human being. It was a scream that was a whisper and a laugh that was a cry. Over and over. The noise and the scooping. The slippery, sliding bills against the rigid body. She — Elliott Chaze

It is not in numbers, but in unity, that our great strength lies; yet our present numbers are sufficient to repel the force of all the world — Thomas Paine

Dr. Ryley. Mrs. Schneider looked a little surprised, then took on the role of hostess, pouring my coffee, offering sugar, cream. She pressed cookies on me, — John Connolly

When I played with the Knicks, I was just as important or just as smart as any other of the guards I played with. I still had to call out plays, notice schemes, know the systems, do everything they had to do. — Patrick Ewing

You drive, walk, eat, look at television, read, and all the while, beyond you and the cozy circle created by your lady around herself and you, like the natural emanations of stars, other lives circle yours, seeds still winged and wind-borne, looking for sympathetic soil. You feel the juices and solids of your body in attempted rearrangement, or, more disturbing, making an effort to create a stillness that approximates death, beyond which the body does become soil, receptive to all wind-borne seeds. In a not especially prolonged stillness, as though no chances could be taken that you might decide to become perpetual motion, words fall out of the air, a random fall from which you might be tempted to make selection, and as you do not move, cannot, a string of words falls onto you, and from you, onto the paper: winter rye greening up, smoothing the old brown earth with a fine new plane: Carpenter Rye, neighbor. — Coleman Dowell

I know we're still here, who knows for how long, ablaze with our care, its ongoing song. — Maggie Nelson

I stepped into the shadows, telling myself not to be afraid. Yet I knew I would either find something worth living for or I would stay dead. — Zachary Koukol

Mikael had rarely managed to surprise Berger. This time she was silent for nearly ten seconds. — Stieg Larsson