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1 " Aunt Mercy put down her tiles, one at a time. I-T-C-H-I-N.Aunt Grace leaned closer to the board, squinting. " Mercy Lynne, you're cheatin' again! What kinda word is that? Use it in a sentence." " I'm itchin' ta have some a that white cake." " That's not how you spell it." At least one of them could spell. Aunt Grace pulled one of the tiles off the board. " There's no T in itchin'." Or not. "
2 " In itself a wall on which a panoramic view of a non-existent world is drawn does not change. But for a great deal of money you can buy a view from the window with a painted sun, a sky-blue bay and a calm evening. Unfortunately the author of this fragment will again be Ed—but even this is not important, because the very window the view is bought for is also only drawn in. Then perhaps the wall on which it is drawn is a drawing too? But drawn by whom and on what?He raised his eyes to the wall of the toilet as though in hopes of an answer there. Traced on the tiles in red felt-tip pen were the jolly, rounded letters of a brief slogan: " Trapped? Masturbate! "
3 " He let himself into the house and sat down with his back against the door, where the tiles were cool on his legs and he tried to hear, as he had earlier imagined, every single thing that his wife was not doing in their home on this Sunday night. He could hardly keep track of it all, she was so busy being absent. She was not pouring water into a glass or a pitcher. She was not kicking his shoes out of the hall. She was not switching the laundry into the dryer. She was not opening the screen door and going outside barefoot and calling for him to come look at the sunset. She was not putting lotion on her elbows or flattening the newspaper or picking up the ringing telephone, which would go on calling out the absence of Petra in nine-ring sequences dozens of times every day. "
― Ramona Ausubel , A Guide to Being Born: Stories
4 " Why don’t you just go run to your room and cry little girl or better yet kill yourself?” Cora spat out ferociously. “Oh honey, if I was going to kill myself I’d do it right here out of spite just to see you get down on your knees and wash the blood off the tiles and haunt your ass til kingdom come.” Sienna spat back with even more ferocity. "
― Ali Harper , Breaking Bedlam (Beautiful Bedlam #2)
5 " Who in their right mind counts the tiles on the floor when they go visiting a neighbor? "
― Tom Upton , Just Plain Weird
6 " He wanted to roar like a lion on a cement floor. And bellow like a polar bear with yellow fur worn down to pink skin against the tiles of an enclosure in a zoo. The disgust must come. Let it drip down the walls. Scorch the ceiling black with hatred. Liberate rage. "
― Adam Nevill , Apartment 16
7 " My child, I know you're not a childBut I still see you running wildBetween those flowering trees.Your sparkling dreams, your silver laughYour wishes to the stars above Are just my memories.And in your eyes the oceanAnd in your eyes the seaThe waters frozen overWith your longing to be free.Yesterday you'd awokenTo a world incredibly old.This is the age you are brokenOr turned into gold.You had to kill this child, I know.To break the arrows and the bowTo shed your skin and change.The trees are flowering no moreThere's blood upon the tiles floorThis place is dark and strange.I see you standing in the stormHolding the curse of youthEach of you with your storyEach of you with your truth.Some words will never be spokenSome stories will never be told.This is the age you are brokenOr turned into gold.I didn't say the world was good.I hoped by now you understoodWhy I could never lie.I didn't promise you a thing. Don't ask my wintervoice for springJust spread your wings and fly.Though in the hidden gardenDown by the green green laneThe plant of love grows next toThe tree of hate and pain.So take my tears as a token.They'll keep you warm in the cold.This is the age you are brokenOr turned into gold.You've lived too long among usTo leave without a traceYou've lived too short to understandA thing about this place.Some of you just sit there smokingAnd some are already sold. This is the age you are brokenOr turned into gold.This is the age you are broken or turned into gold. "
― Antonia Michaelis , The Storyteller
8 " Home is not where you have to go but where you want to go; nor is it a place where you are sullenly admitted, but rather where you are welcomed – by the people, the walls, the tiles on the floor, the followers beside the door, the play of life, the very grass. "
9 " After an eternity she tries to rise. When was it that she had slunk and crouched on the tiles like a haggard waif? Black crows fly down to feast on her eyes. Trembling, her body summons its strength to stand against the swirling mass around her. A long strand of hair falls across her face. She does not bother to brush it back. Instead it stays there like a fly stuck in ointment, strands glued to her tear stained face. Steadying herself on the kitchen bench she edges her way toward the sink to fill a glass of water. Breathe Lisa! Her troubled mind instructs. "
― Felicity Chapman , Connected
10 " Master Dongguo asked Zhuangzi, " This thing called the Way - where does it exist?" Zhuangzi said, " There's no place it doesn't exist." " Come," said Master Dongguo, " you must be more specific!" " It is in the ant." " As low a thing as that?" " It is in the panic grass." " But that's lower still!" " It is in the tiles and shards." " How can it be so low?" " It is in the piss and shit! "
11 " Firstly, though we have to clean this blood up off the tiles before it dries. It is far easier to clean the blood up while it's still wet." " How do you know this stuff?" Grace said completely baffled." Dexter," Angela said shrugging and thinking that was as good an explanation as any. "
12 " Nan is the mortar that holds the tiles of their family together. "
― William Paul Young , The Shack