Lillianne Plumeria Quotes & Sayings

There's no real objection to escapism, in the right places ... We all want to escape occasionally. But science fiction is often very far from escapism, in fact you might say that science fiction is escape into reality ... It's a fiction which does concern itself with real issues: the origin of man; our future. In fact I can't think of any form of literature which is more concerned with real issues, reality. — Arthur C. Clarke

It'll be like a game of chess. We can let the game unfold as it did before, but if we want to avoid checkmate, we'll have to readjust the pieces a few moves shy of the finish. — Darren Shan

You're an intensely attractive woman. You do know that, don't you?" To her silence, he replied, "You'd believe me if you could see yourself."
"I have seen myself. That's the snag, you see."
He shook his head. "No, no. Not in a mirror. I know how mirrors work. They're all in league with the cosmetics trade. They tell a woman lies. Drawing her gaze from one imagined flaw to another, until all she sees is a constellation of imperfections. If you could get outside yourself, borrow my eyes for just an instant ... There's only beauty. — Tessa Dare

He held her gaze, let everything he felt for her show in his eyes. "Love you, darlin'." She rewarded him with a tremulous smile and reached up to touch his face. "Show me. — Kaylea Cross

[Propaganda] does not have multiple shadings; it has a positive and a negative; love or hate, right or wrong, truth or lie, never half this way and half that way ... — Adolf Hitler

If we could combine Starbucks spirit with the spirit of the artisan, we knew we could achieve something special. — Kengo Kuma

When your diary is full and your life is empty, get a date — Benny Bellamacina

You'll have to forgive me. I'm a refugee from the past, and like other refugees I go over the customs and habits of being I've left or been forced to leave behind me, and it all seems just as quaint, from here, and I am just as obsessive about it. Like a White Russian drinking tea in Paris, marooned in the twentieth century, I wander back, try to regain those distant pathways; I become too maudlin, lose myself. Weep. Weeping is what it is, not crying. I sit in this chair and ooze like a sponge. — Margaret Atwood