#t

It's Nathaniel Hawthorne Month in English. Poor Nathaniel. Does he know what they've done to him? We're reading The Scarlet Letter one sentence at a time, tearing it up and chewing on its bones. It's all about SYMBOLISM, says Hairwoman. Every word chosen by Nathaniel, every comma, every paragraph break -- these were all done on purpose. To get a decent grade in her class, we have to figure out what he was really trying to say. Why couldn't he just say what he meant? Would they pin scarlet letters on his chest? B for blunt, S for straightforward? ↗

— Laurie Halse Anderson

#scarlet-letter #symbolism #poor

Thankfully the rest of the world assumed that the Irish were crazy, a theory that the Irish themselves did nothing to debunk. They had somehow got it into their heads that each fairy lugged around a pot of gold with him wherever he went. While it was true that LEP had a ransom fund, because of its officers' high-risk occupation, no human had ever taken a chunk of it yet. This didn't stop the Irish population in general from skulking around rainbows, hoping to win the supernatural lottery. ↗

— Eoin Colfer

#irish #supernatural

Edward smiled, I smiled, even Bernardo smiled. Olaf just looked sinister. ↗

— Laurell K. Hamilton

#fiction #hunter #supernatural #urban-fantasy #vampire

A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: 1. What am I trying to say? 2. What words will express it? 3. What image or idiom will make it clearer? 4. Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? ↗

— George Orwell

#writing #questions

Here I am with a seriously hunky guy and I'm covered in demon pee. Why does the universe hate me? ↗

— Jana Oliver

#fantasy

I came," she said, "hoping you could talk me out of a fantasy." Cherish it!" cried Hilarious, fiercely. "What else do any of you have? Hold it tightly by it's little tentacle, don't let the Freudians coax it away or the pharmacists poison it out of you. Whatever it is, hold it dear, for when you lose it you go over by that much to the others. You begin to cease to be. ↗

— Thomas Pynchon

#fantasy

I wake up and I see the face of the devil and I ask him, "What time is it?" And he says, How much time do you want? ↗

— Diamanda Galás

#time #risk

It was the most convulted, ridiculous piece of logic I'd heard in awhile... It was something I would have come up with. ↗

— Richelle Mead

#rose-hathaway #sacrifice

But you, fine sir." John Miller clapped Dexter on the shoulder, a bit unsteadily. "You have problems of your own." "This is true," Dexter replied, nodding. "The women," John Miller sighed. Dexter wiped a hand over his face, and glanced down the road. "The women. Indeed, dear squire, they perplex me as well." "Ah, the fair Remy," John Miller said grandly, and I felt a flush run up my face. Lissa, in the front seat, put a hand to her mouth. "The fair Remy," Dexter repeated, "did not see me as a worthwhile risk." "Indeed." "I am, of course, a rogue. A rapscallion. A musician. I would bring her nothing but poverty, shame, and bruised shins from my flailing limbs. She is the better for our parting." John Miller pantomined stabbing himself in the heart. "Cold words, my squire." "Huffah," Dexter agreed. "Huffah," John Miller repeated, "Indeed. ↗

— Sarah Dessen

#risk

Il n'est pas certain que tout soit incertain. (Translation: It is not certain that everything is uncertain.) ↗

— Blaise Pascal

#quip #risk #uncertainty #risk