#it

Apparently, my hopes, dreams and aspirations were no match against my poor spelling, punctuation and grammar. ↗

— Red Red Rover

#dreams #editing #grammar #hopes #ideas

Will!” he shouted. “Will, she bit me!” “Did she, Henry?” Will, looking amused as usual, appeared like a summoned spirit from the chaos of smoke and flames. . .Will raised an eyebrow in Tessa’s direction. “It’s bad form to bite,” he informed her. “Rude, you know. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?” “It’s also rude to go about grabbing at ladies you haven’t been introduced to,” Tessa said stiffly. “Hasn’t anyone told you that? ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#bitting #grabbing #rude #spirit

A Native American elder once described his own inner struggles in this manner: Inside of me there are two dogs. One of the dogs is mean and evil. The other dog is good. The mean dog fights the good dog all the time. When asked which dog wins, he reflected for a moment and replied, The one I feed the most. ↗

— George Bernard Shaw

#good-and-evil #humanity #native-americans #self-determination #fighting

Don't you understand that we need to be childish in order to understand? Only a child sees things with perfect clarity, because it hasn't developed all those filters which prevent us from seeing things that we don't expect to see. ↗

— Douglas Adams

#understanding #understanding

On the fifth day, which was a Sunday, it rained very hard. I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty. ↗

— Mark Haddon

#perspective #rain #silence #white-noise #dog

To his dog, every man is Napoleon; hence the constant popularity of dogs. ↗

— Aldous Huxley

#constant #dog #dogs #every #every man

Yes, she believed God loved her. But if this whole fiasco was His idea of love . . . ↗

— Lauraine Snelling

#god #love #trials #dreams

The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself. ↗

— Albert Camus

#writers #writing #civilization

Why are you always trying to get yourself killed?" "It's my job." "It's a hazard of your job. At least for most Shadowhunters. For you it seems to be the purpose. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#jace-lightwood #simon-lewis #purpose

Jace set what he was holding down on the windowsill and reached out to her. She came to lean against him, and his hand slid up under her t-shirt and rested caressingly, possessively, on the small of her back. He bent to kiss her, gently at first, but the gentleness went quickly and soon she was pressed up against the glass of the window, his hands at the hem of her shirt — his shirt — “Jace.” She moved a little bit away. “I’m pretty sure people down there in the street can see us.” “We could …” He gestured toward the bed. “Move…over there.” She grinned. “You said that like it took you a while to come up with the idea.” When he spoke, his voice was muffled against her neck. “What can I say, you make my thought processes slow down. Now I know what it’s like to be a normal person.” “How … is it?” The things he was doing with his hands under the t-shirt were distracting. “Terrible. I’m already way behind on my quota of witty comments for the day. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#clary-fray #jace-wayland #witty