Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman. – D.H. Lawrence, Sons and Lovers

Recklessness is almost a man’s revenge on his woman.

–
D.H. Lawrence,

Sons and Lovers

When we were almost to the other campus, I felt the weird nausea hit me. I called a warning to Christian, just as a Strigoi grabbed him. But

When we were almost to the other campus, I felt the weird nausea hit me. I called a warning to Christian, just as a Strigoi grabbed him. But Christian was fast. Flames wreathed the Strigoi’s head. He screamed and released Christian, trying frantically to put the flames out. The Strigoi never saw me coming with the stake. The whole thing took under a minute. Christian and I exchanged looks.

Yeah. We were badasses.

–
Richelle Mead,

Shadow Kiss

Almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so. – Robert A.

Almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so.

–
Robert A. Heinlein

Grace has to be the loveliest word in the English language. It embodies almost every attractive quality we hope to find in others. Grace is a

Grace has to be the loveliest word in the English language. It embodies almost every attractive quality we hope to find in others. Grace is a gift of the humble to the humiliated. Grace acknowledges the ugliness of sin by choosing to see beyond it. Grace accepts a person as someone worthy of kindness despite whatever grime or hard-shell casing keeps him or her separated from the rest of the world. Grace is a gift of tender mercy when it makes the least sense.

–
Charles R. Swindoll

Being dropped by your stalker is pretty bad. I mean he watches you week-in, week-out for almost a year, and then you have sex and he s like

Being dropped by your stalker is pretty bad. I mean he watches you week-in, week-out for almost a year, and then you have sex and he s like wham, bam, thank you, ma am. We no longer require your position as victim. Don t call us; we ll call you. It s not you it s me. We re just at different stages of our stalker/stalkee relationship. I need space.
How pathetic are you You re actually ticked off that your stalker is no longer skulking around in the shadows. That s just pitiful.

–
Belle Aurora,

Raw

The lives of scientists, considered as Lives, almost always make dull reading. For one thing, the careers of the famous and the merely

The lives of scientists, considered as Lives, almost always make dull reading. For one thing, the careers of the famous and the merely ordinary fall into much the same pattern, give or take an honorary degree or two, or in European countries an honorific order. It could be hardly otherwise. Academics can only seldom lead lives that are spacious or exciting in a worldly sense. They need laboratories or libraries and the company of other academics. Their work is in no way made deeper or more cogent by privation, distress or worldly buffetings. Their private lives may be unhappy, strangely mixed up or comic, but not in ways that tell us anything special about the nature or direction of their work. Academics lie outside the devastation area of the literary convention according to which the lives of artists and men of letters are intrinsically interesting, a source of cultural insight in themselves. If a scientist were to cut his ear off, no one would take it as evidence of a heightened sensibility; if a historian were to fail as Ruskin did to consummate his marriage, we should not suppose that our understanding of historical scholarship had somehow been enriched.

–
Peter Medawar

He swallowed and shifted his weight a little uneasily, and then said, very quietly, his lips almost touching hers, ‘Promise me you’ll marry

He swallowed and shifted his weight a little uneasily, and then said, very quietly, his lips almost touching hers, ‘Promise me you’ll marry me. Not now. Someday. Because I need to know.’
Claier felt a flutter inside, like a bird trying to fly, and a ruch of heat that made her dizzy. And something else, something fragile as a soap bubble, and just as beautiful. Joy, in the middle of all this horror and heartbreak.
‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘I promise.’
And she kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, while the sun came up and bathed Morganville in one last, shining day.

–
Rachel Caine,

Last Breath