21
" He had gone again and, emboldened by his first successful trip, had chosen a different sort of world to enter, that of THE MONK. He had studied the book with great care and finally selected a passage that was purely descriptive.The result was the same. The instant he closed the top of the showcase, he was transported to the world described in the open pages. He found himself standing - and shivering - in a dank corridor that, he knew, was far underground. Feeble candlelight flickered in the distance, off to his left. Water dripped down the gleaming walls and startled rats scurried past his feet. The air was stale and unpleasant. Down the corridor to his left, he could hear singing but could not make out the words. Then suddenly, from his right, he heard a woman's high-pitched scream, its sound caroming off the wet, stone walls of the passageway. He jumped, his skin crawling at the back of his neck.And found himself back in his warm and familiar room.(" I Shall Not Leave England Now" ) "
23
" Hey!” The male voice sliced through the noise. Terri ignored him, determined to get back to the bar for her next order. A harsh hand gripped her arm, jerking her back into a firm chest. “I asked your name.” Hot breath reeking of stale beer permeated her sinuses, making her stomach turn, as the tenor of his voice burrowed into her ear.
Fear gripped her. Memories of the way Randy would grab her, and where it always ended, slammed into her, making her head spin. Shaking it off, Terri narrowed her eyes and whirled around, jabbing a red lacquered nail into his powder blue polo. “Back off,” she warned, snatching her arm back.
He advanced on her, his large frame towering over her. “Just wanna know your name, sweetheart,” he said with a sleazy smile. “No need to get testy.”
“You haven’t seen me testy.”
As she turned her back on him and continued on her way, he called out to her.
“Yet.”
Terri--from Spring Cleaning--Coming Summer 2012 "
― Brandi Salazar , Spring Cleaning
25
" Who are you, Martin Eden? he demanded of himself in the looking-
glass, that night when he got back to his room. He gazed at
himself long and curiously. Who are you? What are you? Where do
you belong? You belong by rights to girls like Lizzie Connolly.
You belong with the legions of toil, with all that is low, and
vulgar, and unbeautiful. You belong with the oxen and the drudges,
in dirty surroundings among smells and stenches. There are the
stale vegetables now. Those potatoes are rotting. Smell them,
damn you, smell them. And yet you dare to open the books, to
listen to beautiful music, to learn to love beautiful paintings, to
speak good English, to think thoughts that none of your own kind
thinks, to tear yourself away from the oxen and the Lizzie
Connollys and to love a pale spirit of a woman who is a million
miles beyond you and who lives in the stars! Who are you? and what
are you? damn you! And are you going to make good? "
― Jack London , Martin Eden
29
" Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most outre results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable. "
― Arthur Conan Doyle , The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes, #3)
34
" Fear holds us back from living the lives we want. Use your 20s to make bold decisions, follow different paths, learn from heartbreak, and figure out who you are. When you’re 30, do you want to look back at the same boring job, the stale relationship that isn’t working, and no stamps in your passport? If you want something different, if you want a life that is filled with experiences, if you want to learn and grow, if you want to make a difference…conquer the fears, believe in yourself, and just do it. You may be questioning something right now. You may be battling thoughts in your mind about taking a leap. Ask yourself what you have to lose if you leap. Ask yourself what kind of stories you want to have. Ask yourself if you’re worth it, if you deserve it. "
39
" A book about books is like a poem about poetry:
Books are knowledge, paid for, all.
Readers - horses in a stall.
Stallions should always run.
Lest they stale become, in turn.
Running waters are most clear.
In some books, you disappear –
lose yourself, and track of time.
How I wish that one was mine...
Mine, to have, to write, to read...
Mine, just like a flying steed.
Mine, forever, - to improve.
Would I then, of me, approve?
I would not, I can't... myself.
I'm but dust, swept off a shelf.
Fly, can I, just 'til I'm settled,
down, beside my flower, petalled. "
― , Nothing is here...