#nine

She was every inch the skeletal goddess that had been promised by the bones of her feet. ↗

— Jefferson Smith

#body-image #bones #dieting #fantasy #feet

I think we're in the beginning of a bull market. When a bull market begins, nine months later the economy turns around. ↗

— Sumner Redstone

#beginning #begins #bull #bull market #economy

I would defy people to find a more beautifully developed character than Seven of Nine. ↗

— Jeri Ryan

#character #defy #developed #find #i

The nineteenth century was the Age of Romanticism; for the first time in history, man stopped thinking of himself as an animal or a slave, and saw himself as a potential god. All of the cries of revolt against 'God' - De Sade, Byron's "Manfred", Schiller's "Robbers", Goethe's "Faust", Hoffmann's mad geniuses - are expressions of this new spirit. Is this why the 'spirits' decided to make a planned and consistent effort at 'communication'? It was the right moment. Man was beginning to understand himself. ↗

— Colin Wilson

#man #nineteenth-century #romanticism #spirit #age

Things on the essential list: vodka, Nine Inch Nails, a steady supply of mortal men, and an all-purpose bitchy attitude. ↗

— Richelle Mead

#humor #nin #nine-inch-nails #paranormal-romance #succubus

She was so intelligent that she could think herself into beauty. Intelligence...they don't talk about it much, the poets, but when a woman is intelligent and passionate and good... ↗

— Eva Ibbotson

#feminine #inspirational #love #magical #beauty

She is so bright and glorious that you cannot look at her face or her garments for the splendor with which she shines. For she is terrible with the terror of the avenging lightning, and gentle with the goodness of the bright sun; and both her terror and her gentleness are incomprehensible to humans.... But she is with everyone and in everyone, and so beautiful is her secret that no person can know the sweetness with which she sustains people, and spares them in inscrutable mercy. ↗

— Hildegard of Bingen

#beauty

I grew up with the white picket fence. My dad went to work nine to five, and he had a station wagon. ↗

— Matt Dillon

#fence #five #grew #had #i

Emerson, I am trying to live, as you said we must, the examined life. But there are days I wish there was less in my head to examine, not to speak of the busy heart. ↗

— Mary Oliver

#business

Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33) ↗

— Tim Willocks

#apple #asymmetry #atlantic #autumn #blind-man