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I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no... ↗


— J.R.R. Tolkien


#description

What! Would I be turned back from doing a thing that I had determined to do, and that I knew to be right, by the airs and interference of such a person, or any person I may say? No, I have no idea of being so easily persuaded. When I have made up my mind, I have made it. ↗


— Jane Austen


#empowerment #independence #interference #judgment #persuasion

You know, you really don't have to kill anyone over this. I'll get an annulment. It will be like never happened" His eyes came to her, briefly meeting her gaze before dropping to her mouth. "You'll have to make that a divorce instead" "No you don't understand. An annulment will be much easier to obtain" His gaze locked with hers now. Cassie became slightly breathless with the intensity of his stare. "Not after tonight, it won't." He said in his mesmerizing drawl. "Why?" She barely got the word out. "Because i'm in the mood to play husband" "You're what?" He started toward her. She was too stunned to move, so he was there and reaching for her before she had time to think about running. "We're having a wedding night," he said as he lifted her off her feet.-- ↗


— Johanna Lindsey


#cassie #western #divorce

Wars make history seem deceptively simple. They provide clear turning points, easy distinctions.: before and after, winner and loser, right and wrong. True history, the past, is not like that. It isn't flat or linear. It has no outline. It is slippery, like liquid; infinite and unknowable, like space. And it is changeable: just when you think you see a pattern, perspective shifts, an alternate version is proffered, a long-forgotten memory resurfaces. ↗


— Kate Morton


#memory #war #perspective

When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon. ↗


— James Crumley


#detective-novel #mystery #alcohol

Some people think mental illness is a matter of mood, a matter of personality. They think depression is simply a form of being sad, that OCD is a form of being uptight. They think the soul is sick, not the body. It is, they believe, something that you have some choice over. I know how wrong this is. When I was a child, I didn't understand. I would wake up in a new body and wouldn't comprehend why things felt muted, dimmer. Or the opposite--I'd be supercharged, unfocused, like a radio at top volume flipping quickly from station to station. Since I didn't have access to the body's emotions, I assumed the ones I was feeling were my own. Eventually, though, I realized these inclinations, these compulsions, were as much a part of the body as its eye color or its voice. Yes, the feelings themselves were intangible, amorphous, but the cause of the feelings was a matter of chemistry, biology. It is a hard cycle to conquer. The body is working against you. And because of this, you feel even more despair. Which only amplifies the imbalance. It takes uncommon strength to live with these things. But I have seen that strength over and over again. ↗


— David Levithan


#mental-illness #biology

Son of a motherfucking, ass-reaming, shit-eating, hell-dodging soulless bitch! ↗


— Rachel Vincent


#hilarious

1918 წლის 10 აგვისტოს ლენინი სურსათით მომარაგების "ნარკომს" (სახალხო კომისარს), ციურუპას, სთავაზობს დეკრეტის პროექტს: "...მარცვლეულის მწარმოებელ ყველა რეგიონში შეძლებულთა ფენიდან შეარჩიეთ 25-30 მძევალი, რომლებიც საკუთარი სიცოცხლით აგებენ პასუხს რეკვიზიციის გეგმის შეუსრულებლობისთვის". ციურუპამ, იმის მომიზეზებით, რომ მძევლების შერჩევის ორგანიზება ძნელი იყო, წაუყრუა. მაშინ ლენინმა მას მეორე, სრულიად არაორაზროვანი მითითება გაუგზავნა: "მე მძევლების აყვანას კი არ გთავაზობთ, არამედ მათ დანიშვნას თითოეულ ოლქში. ამ დანიშვნის მიზანია, რომ მდიდრებმა, რომლებიც თავიანთ კონტრიბუციაზე აგებენ პასუხს, ასევე საკუთარი სიცოცხლით აგონ პასუხი თავიანთსავე ოლქში რეკვიზიციის გეგმის დაუყოვნებლივ შესრულებაზე. ↗


— Stéphane Courtois


#lenin #requisition #communism

My face breaks into a huge smile and i start walking in Peeta's direction. Then, as if i can't stand it another second, I start running.He catches me and spins me around and then he slips-he still isn't entirely in command of his artificial leg-and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that's where we have our first kiss in months.It's full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I'm not alone.As badly as I've hurt him, he won't expose me in front of the cameras. Won't condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He's still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way. ↗


— Suzanne Collins


#snow

Jon:'What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?' Tyrion: 'Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine', the dwarf told him. 'I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother. ↗


— George R.R. Martin


#alcohol #drunk #dwarf #feast #jon-snow






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