#jim

The glory of science is to imagine more than we can prove. ↗

— Freeman John Dyson

#immanuel-velikovsky #jim-carter #lord-kelvin #margaret-wertheim #physics-on-the-fringe

Jim had spent most of his life alone. The solitary nature of his disability and the constant moving had made it difficult for him to make friends. With his mother’s death, his last connection to a person was severed. He existed in Broughton like a ghost, doing his odd jobs, too silent for anyone to notice. ↗

— Bonnie Dee

#bonnie-dee #jim #death

That day, that day when I can gaze at the sea--both of us calm--and I, trusting, having poured my whole heart into my Life Work....when death--black waves!--no longer courts me and I can smile, constantly, at everything because, my bones, there will be so little of myself left to give it. ↗

— Juan Ramón Jiménez

#life-work #nature-writing #poetry #death

Who snitched?" "We have people monitoring police radio frequencies. They gave Jim a heads-up in case our security had to storm PAD offices and bust you out of there. I found out when I saw Jim walking down the hallway snickering to himself. ↗

— Ilona Andrews

#ilona-andrews #jim #kate #kate-daniels #magic-slays

Yes - en I's rich now, come to look at it. I owns myself, en I's wuth eight hund'd dollars. I wisht I had de money, I wouldn' want no mo'. ↗

— Mark Twain

#wisdom #money

When he finally broke off the kiss and moved his lips to her neck, then her breast again, sucking her nipples back to hard peaks, Catherine broke from her trance. “No. I really must go. We haven’t time to do this again.” She pushed against his restraining hands and wiggled beneath his body. “Let me up now.” He pulled away from her neck and looked up, his eyes as poignant as a spoken plea. Her heart wrenched and she wished she could spend the rest of the day with him, making love in their secret nest in the loft. She sighed. “Don’t give me puppy dog eyes. I’ve got to go. ↗

— Bonnie Dee

#bonnie-dee #catherine #jim #love

All of a sudden, she was there, breaking away from the little group of women and running toward him. She raced across the space between them and threw her arms around his neck. The force of her body knocked him back a few steps as she wrapped around him like a trumpet vine on a cornstalk. He regained his footing and snaked his arms around her, holding her close. His exhaustion disappeared in a moment, erased by the incredible fact that Catherine was in his arms right here on the street in front of half the town, lifting her face to kiss him. He couldn’t refuse her offer and bent his head to cover her soft lips with his. The heat and pressure of her mouth took away all the residual anxiety and fear still floating in him and filled him with wild elation instead. After several long minutes of feasting on her mouth like a starving man, he pulled away and his eyes opened. Her tear-streaked face filled his vision. His stomach dropped. Why was she crying? What had happened to her? He was aware of the crowd of people around them. Glancing up, he saw many eyes focused on him and Catherine, mouths talking, expressions of surprise and shock. He let go of her and stepped back, although it was far too late to protect her reputation. Catherine cupped his face, drawing his attention back to her, and her lips were moving. “…don’t you? Never again!” She frowned and signed as she spoke. “Never! Understand? I love you.” Her graceful hands made the love sign, which looked as though she was offering her heart to him. At last Jim realized she was upset with him for putting himself in danger. If he’d doubted that she cared, those doubts evaporated under the force of her fury. He nodded and promised. ↗

— Bonnie Dee

#bonnie-dee #catherine #jim #love

He who lives for nothing costs the lives of many, but he who lives for something greater than himself preserves those he loves. ↗

— Christopher Hopper

#christian-science-fiction #elves #grimwarden #jimmy #jimmy-gresham

My weakness consists in not having a discriminating eye for the incidental --- for the externals, --- no eye for the hod of the rag-picker or the fine linen of the next mean. Next man---that's it. I have met so many men." he pursued, with momentary sadness--- "met them too with a certain, certain impact, let us say; like this fellow, for instance--- and in each case all I could see was merely a human being. A confounded democratic quality of vision which may be better than total blindness, but has been of no advantage to me-- I can assure you. Men expect one to take into account their fine linen. But I never could get up any enthusiasm about these things. Oh! It's a failing; and then comes a soft evening; a lot of men too indolent for whist-- and a story...." [p.44] ↗

— Joseph Conrad

#naivety #point-of-view #storytellers #men

I refuse to believe that Hendrix had the last possessed hand, that Joplin had the last drunken throat, that Morrison had the last enlightened mind. ↗

— Patti Smith

#inspiration #janis-joplin #jim-morrison #music #originality