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1 " Sometimes, it's important to turn off the noise from the outside world. Sometimes, it's critical to stop the banter even within oneself. Intentional solitude and quiet can make us strong for tomorrow. "
― David Paul Kirkpatrick
2 " My youth was the most stubborn, peremptory part of myself. In my most relaxed moments, it governed my being. It pricked up its ears at the banter of eighteen-year-olds on the street. It frankly examined their bodies. It did not know its place: that my youth governed me with such ease didn't mean I was young. It meant I was divided as if housing a stowaway soul, rife with itches and yens which demanded a stern vigilance. I didn't live thoughtlessly in my flesh anymore. My body had not, in its flesh, fundamentally changed quite so much as it now could intuit the change that would only be dodged by an untimely death, and to know both those bodies at once, the youthful, and the old, was to me the quintessence of being middle-aged. Now I saw all my selves, even those that did not yet exist, and the task was remembering which I presented to others. "
― Susan Choi , My Education
3 " Why do you want to do this?" he asked curiously. " Why is this woman so important to you?" Saint-Germain blinked in surprise. " Have you ever loved anyone?" he asked." Yes," Tamnuz said cautiously, " I had a consort once, Inanna..." " But did you love her? Truly love her?" The Green Man remained silent." Did she mean more to you than life itself?" Saint-Germain persisted." They do not love that do not show their love," Shakespeare murmured very softly.The French immortal stepped closer to the Elder. " I love my Jeanne," he said simply. " I must go to her." " Even though it will cost you everything?" Tamnuz persisted, as if the idea was incomprehensible." Yes. Without Joan, everything I have is worthless." " Even your immortality?" " Especially my immortality." Gone were the banter and the jokes. This was a Saint-Germain whom neither Shakespeare nor Palamedes had ever seen before. " I love her," he said, "
4 " At paces that might stun and dismay the religious jogger, the runners easily kept up all manner of chatter and horseplay. When they occasionally blew by a huffing fatty or an aging road runner, they automatically toned down the banter to avoid overwhelming, to preclude the appearance of show boating (not that they slowed in the slightest). They in fact respected these distant cousins of the spirit, who, among all people, had some modicum of insight into their own days and ways. But the runners resembled them only in the sense that a puma resembles a pussy cat. It is the difference between stretching lazily on the carpet and prowling the jungle for fresh red meat. "
