#worm

Instead, I opened my eyes to find the thing in front of my face, wafting dead horse breath across my chin and up my nose, its mouth like a gaping maw; its eyes, two giant wormholes, twisting and bending with some apparitional substance that could have been space and time if I’d known anything about physics. ↗

— Shannon Celebi

#apparitional #dead #death #death-and-dying #eye

Can you taste it Bruce? Can you taste the filth, the dirt, the oily blackness of that fossil fuel in our mouth as you choke and gag and spit it out? Do you still hear his voice in your head urging you to eat? Eat, eat eat. Your mother's cries. Do you hear them? You should be Bruce. Because I know that it's never left you alone. Now you can eat what you want to eat. For me, for you, for all the others. Now you can consume to your heart's content or your soul's destruction, whichever comes first. So eat. ↗

— Irvine Welsh

#eat #eating #food #parents #tapeworm

She couldn't help thinking that something was wrong with a person had more shoes than books in their home. ↗

— Victoria Connelly

#bookworms #chick-lit #girly #humour #reading

Ye glow-worms, whose officious flame To wand’ring mowers shows the way, That in the night have lost their aim, And after foolish fires do stray; Your courteous lights in vain you waste, Since Juliana here is come, For she my mind hath so displac’d That I shall never find my home. ↗

— Andrew Marvell

#home

Sarah turned her narrow-eyed gaze on him, making me glad once more that Antimony's comic books got it wrong, and telepaths can't actually kill you with their brains. Give you a whopping headache and earworm you with annoying jingles, yes; kill you, no. (Although sometimes, when she's managed to stick "The Happy Banana Song" in my head for a week, I sort of wish she could kill people with her brain. It would be kinder.) ↗

— Seanan McGuire

#humor #telepathy #humor

There were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why,--when it did not seem worthwhile to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation. ↗

— Kate Chopin

#worms #life

Why does everyone think a girl who prefers books to people must be in want of a life? ↗

— Lauren Morrill

#bookworms #people #reading #life

When the Day of Judgment dawns and people, great and small, come marching in to receive their heavenly rewards, the Almighty will gaze upon the mere bookworms and say to Peter, “Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them. They have loved reading. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#bookworms #heavenly-rewards #judgment #reading #love

There are, of course, inherent tendencies to repetition in music itself. Our poetry, our ballads, our songs are full of repetition; nursery rhymes and the little chants and songs we use to teach young children have choruses and refrains. We are attracted to repetition, even as adults; we want the stimulus and the reward again and again, and in music we get it. Perhaps, therefore, we should not be surprised, should not complain if the balance sometimes shifts too far and our musical sensitivity becomes a vulnerability. ↗

— Oliver Sacks

#hypotheses #hypothesis #music #neuroscience #psychology

You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!" "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED, RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!" Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised. "You should have realized," said Lupin quietly. "If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter. ↗

— J.K. Rowling

#friend #remus-lupin #sirius-black #wormtail #prison