A Doll's House Important Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to A Doll's House Important. Here they are! All 5 of them:

Chantal is having a relationship with a sentence. Just one of those things. A chance meeting that grew into something important for the both of them.
Neil Gaiman (The Sandman, Vol. 2: The Doll's House)
They Are Unreliable There was a time when you were the center of all their attention, but now you feel like you are no more than an afterthought in their lives. This can mean that they are unfaithful with you. He/She Kisses Less Often If they have started to avoid initiating a kiss and austerely avoid it during sex unless you pull them right into it, then they are cheating. They may also bail on the foreplay, avoid making eye contact, and time out their sex, it is a sign that their mind and heart are wandering someplace else. He/She Is Always “Working” Is he usually late? Does he/she always say that they are at the office and working on something important? It could be their new object of affection… just saying. When a partner cheats, they will try their best to minimize their contact with their spouses and use excuses to stay out of the house. They just feel a little guilty when they are with you, but boy does that stop them from cheating? Certainly not! Every Time You Confront Him/Her, They Call You Crazy Even if in just some casual banter, you bring up the topic of cheating, they start to act all weird and call you crazy for even thinking like that. No one likes to be caught red-handed and a cheater will always say they haven’t cheated. So take the hint if they act too surprised on the idea that you called them a cheater. His/Her Dressing Style Changes If he had a difficult time suiting/dolling up for any occasion previously and has started to do it too often now, it is again a sign that they are trying to impress someone. Also, if they seem obsessed with going to the gym or shopping for more sharp-looking/sexy clothes, it could mean they are cheating.
Rachael Chapman (Healthy Relationships: Overcome Anxiety, Couple Conflicts, Insecurity and Depression without therapy. Stop Jealousy and Negative Thinking. Learn how to have a Happy Relationship with anyone.)
From the Bridge” by Captain Hank Bracker Nesting Dolls The first stacked dolls better known as Russian Nesting Dolls, matryoshka dolls or Babushka Dolls, were first made in 1890 by Vasily Zvyozdochkin. Much of the artistry is in the painting of the usual 5 dolls, although the world record is 51 dolls. Each doll, which when opened reveals a smaller doll of the same type inside ending with the smallest innermost doll, which is considered the baby doll and is carved from a single piece of wood. Frequently these dolls are of a woman, dressed in a full length traditional Russian peasant dress called a sarafan. When I served with the Military Intelligence Corps of the U.S.Army, the concept of onion skins was a similar metaphor used to denote that we were always encouraged to look beyond the obvious. That it was essential to delve deeper into a subject, so as to arrive at the essence of the situation or matter. This is the same principle I employed in writing my award winning book, The Exciting Story of Cuba. Although it can be considered a history book, it is actually a book comprised of many stories or vignettes that when woven together give the reader a view into the inner workings of the Island Nation, just 90 miles south of Key West. The early 1950’s are an example of this. At that time President Batista was hailed a champion of business interests and considered this a direct endorsement of his régime. Sugar prices remained high during this period and Cuba enjoyed some of its best years agriculturally. For those at the top of the ladder, the Cuban economy flourished! However, it was during this same period that the people lower on the economic ladder struggled. A populist movement was started, resulting in a number of rebel bands to challenge the entrenched regime, including the followers of autocrats such as Fidel and Raul Castro. Castro’s M 26 7 militia had a reputation of indiscriminately placing bombs, one of which blew a young woman to pieces in the once-grand theater, “Teatro America.” A farmer, who failed to cooperate with Batista’s army, was locked into his home with his wife and his daughter, which was then set on fire killing them all. What had been a corrupt but peaceful government, quickly turned into a war zone. Despite of Batista’s constitutional abuses and his alliance with the Mafia, the years under his régime were still the most prosperous ones in Cuba’s history. Of course most of the money went to those at the top of the economic ladder and on the lower end of the scale a house maid was lucky to make $25 to $30 a month. History tends to repeat itself. Civilized countries that experience economically difficult times, because of greed by the elite and privileged few, become ripe for a civil insurrection. It is not enough to accept the first solution we encounter, but rather we must peel back the layers of onion skin to understand what has happened and how to rectify the problem. Usually things are not as simple as they seem, and to embrace the first person that offers a simple solution can plunge us deeper into an economic abyss. This is what happened in Italy and Cuba as well as Germany in 1933. Remember that Adolf Hitler was elected with a 90% plurality. Following a populist movement can be disastrous. Strictly adhering to a party doctrine, by the less informed, is outright dangerous. It is important in a democracy that people retain civility and are educated and knowledgeable. It is crucial that we understand history as well as the perils and consequences that are possible. Reading books like The Exciting Story of Cuba allows us to peel away one onion skin after the other, or open one nesting doll after another, until we understand the entire picture. What has happened in other civilized countries can happen here in the United States…. Beware!
Hank Bracker
The intruders spoke no words as they rushed in. Five boys carrying baseball bats and tire irons. They wore an assortment of Halloween masks and stocking masks. But Derek knew who they were. “No! No!” he cried. All five boys wore bulky shooter’s earmuffs. They couldn’t hear him. But more importantly, they couldn’t hear Jill. One of the boys stayed in the doorway. He was in charge. A runty kid named Hank. The stocking pulled down over his face smashed his features into Play-Doh, but it could only be Hank. One of the boys, fat but fast-moving and wearing an Easter Bunny mask, stepped to Derek and hit him in the stomach with his aluminum baseball bat. Derek dropped to his knees. Another boy grabbed Jill. He put his hand over her mouth. Someone produced a roll of duct tape. Jill screamed. Derek tried to stand, but the blow to his stomach had winded him. He tried to stand up, but the fat boy pushed him back down. “Don’t be stupid, Derek. We’re not after you.” The duct tape went around and around Jill’s mouth. They worked by flashlight. Derek could see Jill’s eyes, wild with terror. Pleading silently with her big brother to save her. When her mouth was sealed, the thugs pulled off their shooter’s earmuffs. Hank stepped forward. “Derek, Derek, Derek,” Hank said, shaking his head slowly, regretfully. “You know better than this.” “Leave her alone,” Derek managed to gasp, clutching his stomach, fighting the urge to vomit. “She’s a freak,” Hank said. “She’s my little sister. This is our home.” “She’s a freak,” Hank said. “And this house is east of First Avenue. This is a no-freak zone.” “Man, come on,” Derek pleaded. “She’s not hurting anyone.” “It’s not about that,” a boy named Turk said. He had a weak leg, a limp that made it impossible not to recognize him. “Freaks with freaks, normals with normals. That’s the way it has to be.” “All she does is—” Hank’s slap stung. “Shut up. Traitor. A normal who stands up for a freak gets treated like a freak. Is that what you want?” “Besides,” the fat boy said with a giggle, “we’re taking it easy on her. We were going to fix her so she could never sing again. Or talk. If you know what I mean.” He pulled a knife from a sheath in the small of his back. “Do you, Derek? Do you understand?” Derek’s resistance died. “The Leader showed mercy,” Turk said. “But the Leader isn’t weak. So this freak either goes west, over the border right now. Or…” He let the threat hang there. Jill’s tears flowed freely. She could barely breathe because her nose was running. Derek could see that by the way she sucked tape into her mouth, trying for air. She would suffocate if they didn’t let her go soon. “Let me at least get her doll.
Michael Grant (Lies (Gone, #3))
There is about our house a need. The running, pulsating restlessness of the four boys as they struggle to learn and grow; the world embraces them….All this wonder needs a counterpart. We need some starched crisp frocks to go with all our torn-kneed blue jeans and helmets. We need some soft blond hair to off-set those crew cuts. We need a doll house to stand firm against our forts and rackets and thousand baseball cards. We need a cut-out star to play alone while the others battle to see who’s ‘family champ.’ We even need someone…who could sing the descant to “Alouette,” while outside they scramble to catch the elusive ball aimed ever roofward, but usually thudding against the screens. We need a legitimate Christmas angel—one who doesn’t have cuffs beneath the dress. We need someone who’s afraid of frogs. We need someone to cry when I get mad—not argue. We need a little one who can kiss without leaving egg or jam or gum. We need a girl. We had one once—she’d fight and cry and play and make her way just like the rest. But there was about her a certain softness. She was patient—her hugs were just a little less wiggly. Like them, she’d climb in to sleep with me, but somehow she’d fit. She didn’t boot and flip and wake me up with pug nose and mischievous eyes a challenging quarter-inch from my sleeping face. No—she’d stand beside our bed till I felt her there. Silently and comfortable, she’d put those precious, fragrant locks against my chest and fall asleep. Her peace made me feel strong, and so very important. “My Daddy” had a caress, a certain ownership which touched a slightly different spot than the “Hi Dad” I love so much. But she is still with us. We need her and yet we have her. We can’t touch her, and yet we can feel her. We hope she’ll stay in our house for a long, long time. Love Pop
Jon Meacham (Destiny and Power: The American Odyssey of George Herbert Walker Bush)