eel QUOTES

1 " Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie. (Jace Wayland) "

― Cassandra Clare , City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments, #1)

2 " Here's the thing: this eel spends its entire life trying to find a home, and what do you think women have inside them? Caves, where the eels like to live...when they find a cave they like, the wriggle around inside it for a while to be sure that...well, to be sure it's a nice cave, I suppose. And when they've made up their minds that it's comfortable, they mark the cave as their territory...by spitting. "

― Arthur Golden , Memoirs of a Geisha

3 " Finally the homeless eel marked its territory, I suppose, and the Doctor lay heavily upon me, moist with sweat. "

4 " The funny thing about mundies," Jace said, to nobody in particular, " is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means." I know what it means," Clary snapped.No, you don't, you just think you do. Magic is a dark elemental force, not just a lot of sparkly wands and crystal balls and talking goldfish." I never said it was a lot of talking goldfish, you-" Jace waved a hand, cutting her off. " Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie. "

5 " Hate PoemI hate you truly. Truly I do.Everything about me hates everything about you.The flick of my wrist hates you.The way I hold my pencil hates you.The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.Look out! Fore! I hate you.The blue-green jewel of sock lint I’m diggingfrom under by third toenail, left foot, hates you.The history of this keychain hates you.My sigh in the background as you explain relational databaseshates you.The goldfish of my genius hates you.My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.A closed window is both a closed window and an obvioussymbol of how I hate you.My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.My pleasant “good morning”: hate.You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my headunder your arm? Hate.The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My witpractices it.My breasts relaxing in their holster from morningto night hate you.Layers of hate, a parfait.Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each oneindividually and at leisure.My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validityof my hate, which can never have enough of you,Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine. "

6 " If I were to sit on the ocean floor and look toward the sky,
I might see a whale or electric eel or octopus pass by.

And if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open arms,
I might feel the pleasure of ocean flight propel me ’mid their swarms.

But if I were seated upon the shore and looking toward the stars,
I might see a comet or falling star near Mercury or Mars.

Then if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open hands,
I might feel despair when my feet refused to leave the shoreline sand.

And so I return to the ocean depths where swimming creatures fly,
For there I can soar with the whales and fish that daily touch the sky. "

― Richelle E. Goodrich , Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year

7 " «Such is the irony of life,» Kruppe proclaimed, raising one pastry-filled hand over his head, «that one learns to distrust the obvious, surrendering instead to insidious suspicion and confused conclusion. But, is Kruppe deceived? Can an eel swim? Hurrah, these seeming muddy waters are home to Kruppe, and his eyes are wide with wonder.» "

― Steven Erikson , Gardens of the Moon (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #1)

8 " I am not eccentric. It's just that I am more alive than most people. I am an unpopular electric eel set in a pond of catfish. "

― Edith Sitwell

9 " Where mermaids live looks a bit like your pool.' said Bernard. 'Except they build houses out of whale bones and the wreckage of sunken ships. They play chess with seahorses. They wear capes of fish scales and sleep on beds made from seaweed.'

As we listened, I thought I heard a slight splashing from the far end of the pool.

'At night,' Bernard continued, 'they turn on an electric eel for a night-light, and they light a fire, and the smoke goes up a chimney made from coral.'

'Wait a minute,' interupted Zoe, clearly immersed in Bernard's description. 'If they live underwater, how could they have a fire?'

'You should ask them,' said Bernard.

Zoe and I open our eyes.

Now, look, I know the light was just playing tricks on us. And I know we'd all probably inhaled too much sequin glue. But for the briefest moment, the blue of Zoe's pool gave way to deeper, darker aqua-colored water. The few plants and rocks were replaced with a lagoon and a waterfall where several mermaids lounged half in the water, half in the sun. They splashed and dove, their laughter making the same sound as the water. "

― Michelle Cuevas , Confessions of an Imaginary Friend

10 " Earlier that day, a typewriter bomb had exploded at a black market skin house over on Eel Street, sending words raining through the cardboard walls of the boudoirs and tattooing copies of the Machinist’s ‘Twelve Terms’ on the bodies of whores and patrons alike. Forty pieces of merch ruined. Their bodies had been obliterated by language, all traces of their sexuality buried beneath a storm of words. There was something horrific about the sight of those who had survived a typewriter attack. Their faces scarred with text, as if they had become hostages to some awful advertisement. A few of the victims took to working the streets around the library where bibliophiles sometimes paid them to satisfy their fantasies amid the desolate hush of the reading rooms and the deserted stacks where the only witnesses to this erotic pantomime of the blank body and its printed partner were other words. "