Yanover Esrogim Quotes & Sayings

Don't try to write to the trend of the moment. — Alan Dean Foster

Reading a novel of a private experience, very, very different, the nature of it is very different. — Sydney Pollack

Emma looked across the room and met Clary's green gaze with her own. She thought of Clary kneeling in front of her in Idris, holding her hands, complimenting Cortana. She thought of how the kindnesses that were shown to children were things they never forgot. — Cassandra Clare

In case I'm not around to save your luscious ass, I wanted to know about the garage."
She tipped her head, then said with a straight face devoid of humor, "You think my ass is luscious?"
He fought off another grin and shrugged. "Even for a man with hands my size, it's big enough for a handful. But it's not out of proportion with your equally notable rack."
That must not have been the sweet talk Priss wanted, given her darkening expression.
Both hands fisted. "Pig."
"You asked. — Lori Foster

When you feel complete, you don't need to get married, and you don't think about it. — Shakira

I was raised Catholic, but my father's people were Methodist, so we went to both churches. — Aaron Neville

Jealousy always gets the best of me. — Eric Halvorsen

I'm just a different machine than I used to be, where now I've taken my diet more serious than I ever have in my life, and I've gotten way small. My physique is just completely different to the way it used to be. — Jon Jones

Excerpted From Chapter Eighteen
Pacific Coast Highway ends with a sharp right turn onto Sepulveda. Approaching that intersection, I saw several cars pulled to the shoulder of the road and two fresh, black skid marks leading straight to the edge of the beach beyond Sepulveda. Halfway between the road and the water, a big red Caddy convertible lay upside down on the sand.
I parked and jogged to the wreckage. The windshield and the cloth top had collapsed, so the car was resting on its hood and trunk lid. A young man in swimming trunks and an older fellow in a suit were pulling at the driver's side door, trying to get it open. The twisted metal was resisting their efforts, but the door finally came loose just as I got there. Through the opening I could see Diana Dean sprawled across the shredded remains of her convertible top. From where I stood, she looked to be in about the same shape as her mangled red Caddy. Maybe worse. — H.P. Oliver

Let us say in passing that since (philosophical) remedies are often worse than the malady, our age, in order to be cured of the Plato sickness, has swallowed such doses of a relativist, vaguely skeptical, lightly spiritualist and insipidly moralist medicine, that it is in the process of gently dying, in the small bed of its supposed democratic comfort. — Alain Badiou