Dee Bridwell > Dee's Quotes

“This adultery crap had gotten monotonous. Natalie craved cold-blooded offenses to solve, use her brain, test her mettle. The grittier the better.”
― Nancy Mangano, Running Stop Signs

“You shall address me as ‘My Dearest’,’ he repeated in a mocking voice, trying to copy her tone. ‘You will forget all about this conversation when you leave this room.’ It was interesting that tone; it had a sort of hypnotising ring to it.”
― Max Nowaz, The Three Witches and the Master

“You need them. Mother’s words ring through my mind.”
― Tricia Copeland, To be a Fae Guardian

“Mead.
O sweet elixir,
Ye bless the lips and steal the wits.
 ”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“You are about to enter an arena, brimming with the darkest moments you will ever experience.”
― A.R. Merrydew, The Dumb Dumb's Handbook: To Twin Flame Relationships

“The captain saluted and left, and Alix heard him shouting orders to men to form a firing squad and then orders for the prisoners to be brought out and lined up. There seemed to be some kind of altercation going on. Someone was protesting vocally.
‘I am a British airman and I demand to be treated as a prisoner of war!’
The sound of the voice struck her somewhere in the middle of her chest and she jumped to her feet and ran out of the house. A ragged line of prisoners was drawn up on the far side of the clearing with a dozen Partisans carrying rifles facing them. Her eyes went along the line. Every face was heavily bearded, unrecognisable at a distance, but then a difference in the way the men were dressed struck her. All wore tunics that had some suggestion of a uniform but on one man the trousers that protruded below it, though ragged and faded, were unmistakably Air Force blue.
‘Ready!’ shouted the captain. ‘Take aim.’
‘No!’ Alix tore across the clearing and flung herself between the firing line and the prisoners. ‘No! I know this man! He is an American, but with the British RAF. He is not an enemy.’
‘Not an enemy?’ the captain queried. ‘Then what is he doing fighting alongside the Chetniks?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alix said breathlessly. ‘But you can’t shoot him without finding out. If you shoot a British serviceman you could jeopardise any help we might get.’
The captain looked uneasy. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll let Comrade Tito decide about this.’ He called to one of the men guarding the prisoners. ‘Bring that man over here. The one who’s been causing all the trouble.’
The man in the blue trousers was shoved roughly forward.
‘Alix!’ he gasped hoarsely. ‘Thank god!’
She caught hold of his arm. ‘Steve? It is you, isn’t it?’
‘What’s left of him,’ he responded, with an effort at a smile.
 ”
― Holly Green, A Call to Home

“You see, there are no pretty pink flowers in the woods at night.”
― J.K. Franko, Eye for Eye

“central imperative of liberation theology—to provide a preferential option for the poor—seemed like a worthy life’s goal to him. Of course, one could pursue it almost anywhere, but clearly the doctrine implied making choices among degrees of poverty. It would make sense to provide medicine in the places that needed it most, and there was no place needier than Haiti, at least in the Western Hemisphere, and he hadn’t seen any place in Haiti needier than Cange. He didn’t stick around in Léogâne to see the blood bank get installed. He’d found out that the hospital would charge patients for its use. He told me he had these thoughts, as he headed back toward the central plateau: “I’m going to build my own fucking hospital. And there’ll be none of that there, thank you.”
― Tracy Kidder, Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, a Man Who Would Cure the World

“We have no choice of what color we're born or who our parents are or whether we're rich or poor. What we do have is some choice over what we make of our lives once we're here”
― Mildred Taylor

“Siddhartha stopped fighting his fate this very hour, and he stopped suffering.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“My dear Elinor, you were obviously born into the wrong story,” said Dustfinger at last.”
― Cornelia Funke, Inkheart

“It was from Granny's conversations, year after year, that the meager details of Grandpa's life came to me. When the Civil War broke out, he ran off from his master and groped his way through the Confederate lines to the North. He darkly boasted of having killed "mo'n mah fair share of those damn rebels" while en route to enlist in the Union Army. Militantly resentful of slavery, he joined the Union Army... Mustered out, he returned to the South and, during elections, guarded ballot boxes with his army rifle so that Negroes could vote. But when the Negro had been driven from political power, his spirit had been crushed. He was convinced that the war had not really ended, that it would start again.”
― Richard Wright, Black Boy

“Before she knew it the afternoon was done, and the trainees were taking their new mounts to the stables for grooming. Daine, Onua, Buri, and Sarge helped then too, though Daine couldn't see how she could ever be comfortable telling a twenty-year-old man he was missing spots on the pony he was grooming. She did try it: "Excuse me, trainee what did you say your name was?"
Blue gray eyes twinkled at her over his cream-colored mare's back.
"I didn't. It's Farant. "
His blond hair curled thickly over his head, almost matching the pony's in color.
"Thank you. Trainee Farant, you're missing spots. "
"Not at all, sweetheart. I'm just combing too fast for you to see. " "Trainee Farant, you're missing spots!" Sarge boomed just behind Daine. She thought later she actually might have levitated at that moment certainly Farant had. Next time the assistant horsemistress tells you something, don't flirt correct it!" He moved on, and Daine pressed her hands against her burning cheeks. Farant leaned on his mare and sighed.
"Yes, Assistant Horsemistress. Right away. " He winked at her and went back to work. Daine went to Sarge as the trainees were finishing up.
"Sarge, I-" He shook his head. Daine thought if he leaned against the stable wall any harder, it would collapse. How did a human, without bear blood in him, get to be so large?
"Not your fault. These city boys see you, you're young, sweet-lookin'",he winked at her,"they're gonna try to take advantage. If they can't keep their minds on the job after I've had them two weeks already in my patty-paws, then I ain't been doing my job right. "
His grin was wolfish. "But that can be fixed. "
Seeing her open mouthed stare, he asked, "Something the matter, my lamb?" She closed her jaw.
"No, sir. I just never met nobody like you. "
"And if you're lucky, you won't again, " muttered Buri, passing by.”
― Tamora Pierce, Wild Magic