Christie Golden Quotes

It is as much of a mistake to underestimate yourself as to overestimate yourself.

Remember…you always have a choice to be better. You always have a choice to…to pick the right path.” She smiled sadly. “Even if that choice comes a little late.

We all are weak, in one way or another. It does not matter the species. Some times that weakness is a strength in dusguise. Sometimes it is our utter undoing. Some times it is both. A wise man seeks to find a lesson from it. A fool lets it control and destroy him. And sometimes the wise man is the fool.

How easily the mind can be turned to hate from a place of fear.

False modesty is as bad as false pride. Know exactly what you are capable of at any moment, and act accordingly. Any other path is folly—and could be deadly in battle.

It is a fool who repeats the same actions expecting a different outcome.

Simple' does not mean 'easy'. I have learned that the things that seem the simplest are often the most powerful of all.

Destruction is easy. But creating something that lasts is a challenge.

... just because something had never been done before did not mean it could not be done.

Please…please don’t…” “You must let me go, my love,” Ventress said, her voice so gentle, so tender, and she smiled lovingly. “It’s the Jedi way.” And she was gone.

You were given a gift. You were given the chance to see who you were, to learn from mistakes, and to change and grow. Few are granted such insight.

Clarity is often found in stillness.

The wise man understands his weakness and seeks to find a lesson from it. The fool lets it control and destroy him.

Cheers the spirit, humor does, even at the darkest times.

A risky plan, but what is life without risk, eh?

I am who I am. Whether in joy or in pain. I am who I am.

Humans are pathetically greedy and easy to manipulate.

There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force.

What a meeting this was turning out to be! People were dropping out of sight like the characters in 'And Then There Were None', as they’re killed off one by one.

Brains and common sense. I had them both. Now to put them to work.

Your virtue is safe with me. Your discomfort is rather charming, actually, but I'm sure you'll get over it.

I wanted what we had. What we were going to have. Together. We had a future.

And you will forgive me too, one day, Asajj Ventress.” He hesitated, and took a breath. “That’s what you do for…for the one you love.

It is arrogance to believe you can know all things. Perhaps you are right. But perhaps you are not.

I am not going to waste time on revenge when my energy is better spent toward rebuilding.

Sometimes lessons take time to learn.

Hate is powerful. Hate can be eternal. Hate can be manipulated. And hate can be created.

... but we cannot go back to happier times. We can only live in the present, and right now that present is painful.

All things change, whether from inside out or the outside in. That is what magic is. And we are magic too.

You can't say it's a fair way to determine right or wrong one day, and then say it's unfair the next because you don't like the outcome.

My actions should depend on what I know, not what I suspect.

We best teach what we ourselves have learned.

Not all who become leaders crave the power that goes with it.

You can only act on what you do know. What your heart and your head and your gut tell you is right.

There are always options. And a wise man always has more than one plan.

But that is how one learns, is it not? By trying and failing?

One can not always believe what one hears.

We are, all of us, our own phoenixes, if we choose to be. Out of the ashes, we can be reborn.

Glory, battle, great momentsss, are where we give to the world. But we cannot give without receiving. We cannot share what we do not have inside. It is this quiet, the pause between breathsss, that makes us what we truly are. Gives us ssstrength for all our journeys.

Yes. I had misgivings from the beginning about this entire enterprise. I still believe that sending a Jedi to assassinate a man was wrong. And I fear that I will likely lose not only a fellow Jedi Master, but someone I consider a friend, and we will have nothing to show for such a loss.

How easily the mind can be turned to hate from a place of fear... ...Instead of focusing on the things that unite us, we focus on what divides us... ...My prayer, every day, is for wisdom to guide my people. And in that prayer is couched a plea, never to be blinded by such trivial differences.

Go ahead, spit it out,” she muttered. “You look…” Like a goddess of love and war and hope and ecstasy. Like a glimmering star that I have somehow been blessed to hold. Like the rest of my life. “…nice.” He wanted to kick himself. Ventress

But it is the mark of a leader, to hold all possibilities, even the unpleasant—even the unthinkable.

There are many paths open to us at all times, Jaina. As leaders of those who trust us, we owe it to them to examine every one.

It may make him overconfident. He may make foolish errors.

Each life, a flame in the Force is. Beautiful. Unique. Glowing and precious, it stands, to bravely cast its own small light against the darkness that would consume it.” Yoda

Ventress gave him a look that was so completely her, it tore him apart. “You don’t…tell me what to do, Idiot.” A small smile surprised him. “Never could,” he admitted. “Damn right.” Another bout of coughing racked her thin frame, and for a devastating, heart-scalding second Vos thought this would take her. But she continued. “I’m proud of you for…what you did over there. You chose loving me instead of hating him.” Her bloody-frothed lips curved in a smile. “Best choice you’ve ever made.

The eye cannot always be trusted. We think what we see is always real, that the light always reveals what is there the same way at all times. But light and shadow can be manipulated, directed, by those that understand it... And so your eye perceives something entirely different from what you thought was there.

And now, it’s too late, and I will never stop grieving that. But I’m on the path, Asajj. You bought my chance with blood, and I won’t waste it, I swear I won’t. Every day, every minute of my life, I’ll live it. For me, and for you. I’ll fight, because you can’t, and I’ll laugh, and I’ll do everything I possibly can with everything I have in me to make things better, because this galaxy has seen too much of darkness.

The paths of Fate are many and varied,and no sane being should ever venture down the deceptively pleasant one of "if only".What happened,happened;

How have you managed to survive for so long, Saurfang? Not fallen victim to your own memories?” Saurfang smiled. “I don’t eat pork.

I am not your kind,” Vos said, his voice thick. “I do not feed off vengeance.” Truth was quiet. It did not need to shout or to demand. It simply existed. “I am a Jedi.

Life is not about reward and punishment,” said Xuen. “It is about understanding, accepting who oneself is right now, in order to know what to change, and how.

He welcomed challenges; they kept him sharp, showed that he was approachable, and oftentimes made him explore avenues previously unthought-of.

This was how one should be welcomed home. With the happy cries of children and family, with the blessings of the natural world.

Fear makes people do cruel things, things they'll be ashamed of later

Sometimes it is a dark path we must tread so that long more for the light, we shall.

Iden was, as far as she knew, the sole survivor out of over a million victims of this act of rebel terrorism.

What can I say? Every tooth I have is a sweet tooth,

There is no shame in fear, Orgrim and Durotan. Only in letting fear prevent you from doing the right thing.

Few do, at first. A small step, the one that determines destiny often is.

me. That’s what it does. Nothing is ever enough. You get more, and more, but you’re never happy. It’s a trap baited with all the things you want most. That life—it’s not worth living.

Ner'zhul... Gul'dan. Two of the darkest names ever to sully the history of my people. And yet, Drek'thar tells me that once Ner'zhul was admired, even beloved, and truly cared for the people whos spiritual leader he was. It is hard to reconcile those words with what Ner'zhul has become, but I try. I try because I want to understand. And yet, try as I might... I do not.

Go ahead, spit it out,” she muttered. “You look…” Like a goddess of love and war and hope and ecstasy. Like a glimmering star that I have somehow been blessed to hold. Like the rest of my life. “…nice.” He wanted to kick himself.

Lad, no one feels ready. No one feels he deserves it. And you know why? Because no one does. It’s grace, pure and simple. We are inherently unworthy, simply because we’re human, and all human beings—aye, and elves, and dwarves, and all the other races—are flawed. But the Light loves us anyway. It loves us for what we sometimes can rise to in rare moments. It loves us for what we can do to help others. And it loves us because we can help it share its message by striving daily to be worthy, even though we understand that we can’t ever truly become so.

What is he like?" asked Khadgar, his voice almost pleading. "Like everyone else, I suppose." said Moroes. "Has his druthers. Has his moods. Good days and bad. Like everybody else." "puts his pants on one leg at a time," said Khadgar, sighing. "No. He levitates into them," said Moroes.

There are things you must do before that peace will be granted to you. Things that you must understand, that you must integrate into yourself. People who need your help. What one needs in order to heal will always come one's way, but sometimes it can be hard to recognize it. Sometimes the most beautiful and important gifts come wrapped in pain and blood.

Go on then, Sylvanas Windrunner. Tell me these truths you have never shared.

Strange as it was, he understood there was grace and strength in this pain; a reminder of what should never be forgotten.

There’s no way to phrase this other than bluntly. Master Vos—the Council wants you to assassinate Count Dooku.

Cooperation was possible; he’d seen it. Every individual was unique—and could grow.

We could still have it.

One of the things you'll learn, Anduin, is that sometimes you can't always do what you'd like to do. Or even do what you think is the right thing—at least not right away.

I have no fear of killing those who deserve to die. I do not choose to kill those who do not.

Once you realized that everyone with whom you associated was, potentially, happy to literally stab you in the back, all the wondering just . . . went away.

Cheers the spirit, humor does, even at the darkest times. Yet

Such was the way of the discontented. No proof, no explanation or reason would ever be enough to disabuse them of tightly held, deeply cherished grievances.

Jorum had called to the boys to come watch the miracle of birth. The “miracle of birth” was actually pretty disgusting, Arthas thought. He

Even here, even now, one did not joke about the Emperor.

It’s all for the glory of the Empire, honey, and don’t you forget it.

It is as much of a mistake to underestimate yourself as to overestimate yourself,

We do not ‘suffer,’” said Garad. “We endure.

Remember…you always have a choice to be better. You always have a choice to pick the right path --- Even if that choice comes a little late.

Vos knew he could never repay Kenobi for that, but he had the rest of his life to try.

Hope is what you have when all other things have failed you,” he said. “Where there is hope, you make room for healing, for all things that are possible—and some that are not.

books by her favorite “Golden Age” British mystery writers—Josephine Tey, Margery Allingham, Dorothy Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, John Dickson Carr, and Agatha Christie—evil

All nights end, and all storms clear. The only storms that last are those within your own soul.

Change, Jaina thought. It brings pain; it brings joy; and it is completely inescapable. We are, all of us, our own phoenixes, if we choose to be. Out of the ashes, we can be reborn.

But then the golden stars began to fall. The effect was incredible. Golden streaks against a dark sky. It was mesmerising. They floated down to about a metre above the ground and then winked out. I was transfixed by the beauty of it.

Do I wish I had chosen otherwise? Wishes do not a world make. We do the best we can where we are, every minute, every breath. We make mistakes, and we have to live with them. We try to learn from them. And that is all we can do. (Thrall)

Some orc clans are cruel. They enjoy tormenting and torturing their prey… and their enemies. A Frostwolf takes no joy in suffering. Not even in the suffering of our enemies, and certainly not in that of a simple beast which provides us with nourishment.

Lady Vereesa, Lady Sylvanas—you are ordered to report to His Majesty, the king, at once.” The two sisters looked at each other. “Something you did?” Vereesa asked—not as an accusation, but as a simple question. Sylvanas wasn’t angry; it was a reasonable assumption.

We are all weak, in one way or another. It does not matter the species. Sometimes that weakness is a strength in disguise. Sometimes it is our utter undoing. Sometimes it is both. The wise man understands his weakness and seeks to find a lesson from it. The fool lets it control and destroy him. And sometimes, the wise man is a fool.

Asajj Ventress is highly intelligent and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Skill and competence impress her.” Kenobi hesitated. “Shes also a very striking woman, physically. It might tip her off if you, er, don’t...notice her. And...she likes to trade barbs.” Vos snagged a fried kajaka root from Obi-Wan's plate and popped it into his mouth. “You were fighting her and chatting at the same time?

Todd wrapped his arm around her. They stood together in silent awe, watching the sunset. All Christy could think of was how this was what she had always wanted, to be held in Todd's arms as well as in his heart. Just as the last golden drop of sun melted into the ocean, Christy closed her eyes and drew in a deep draught of the sea air. "Did you know," Todd said softly, "that the setting sun looks so huge from the island of Papua New Guinea that it almost looks like you're on another planet? I've seen pictures." Then, as had happened with her reflection in her cup of tea and in her disturbing dream, Christy heard those two piercing words, "Let go." She knew what she had to do. Turning to face Todd, she said, "Pictures aren't enough for you, Todd. You have to go." "I will. Someday. Lord willing," he said casually. "Don't you see, Todd? The Lord is willing. This is your 'someday.' Your opportunity to go on the mission field is now. You have to go." Their eyes locked in silent communion. "God has been telling me something, Todd. He's been telling me to let you go. I don't want to, but I need to obey Him." Todd paused. "Maybe I should tell them I can only go for the summer. That way I'll only be gone a few months. A few weeks, really. We'll be back together in the fall." Christy shook her head. "It can't be like that, Todd. You have to go for as long as God tells you to go. And as long as I've known you, God has been telling you to go. His mark is on your life, Todd. It's obvious. You need to obey Him." "Kilikina," Todd said, grasping Christy by the shoulders, "do you realize what you're saying? If I go, I may never come back." "I know." Christy's reply was barely a whisper. She reached for the bracelet on her right wrist and released the lock. Then taking Todd's hand, she placed the "Forever" bracelet in his palm and closed his fingers around it. "Todd," she whispered, forcing the words out, "the Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face to shine upon you and give you His peace. And may you always love Jesus more than anything else. Even more than me." Todd crumbled to the sand like a man who had been run through with a sword. Burying his face in his hands, he wept. Christy stood on wobbly legs. What have I done? Oh, Father God, why do I have to let him go? Slowly lowering her quivering body to the sand beside Todd, Christy cried until all she could taste was the salty tears on her lips. They drove the rest of the way home in silence. A thick mantle hung over them, entwining them even in their separation. To Christy it seemed like a bad dream. Someone else had let go of Todd. Not her! He wasn't really going to go. They pulled into Christy's driveway, and Todd turned off the motor. Without saying anything, he got out of Gus and came around to Christy's side to open the door for her. She stepped down and waited while he grabbed her luggage from the backseat. They walked to the front door. Todd stopped her under the trellis of wildly fragrant white jasmine. With tears in his eyes, he said in a hoarse voice, "I'm keeping this." He lifted his hand to reveal the "Forever" bracelet looped between his fingers. "If God ever brings us together again in this world, I'm putting this back on your wrist, and that time, my Kilikina, it will stay on forever." He stared at her through blurry eyes for a long minute, and then without a hug, a kiss, or even a good-bye, Todd turned to go. He walked away and never looked back.

Janeway had thought her heart full, but now it overflowed. For the rest of her life, she knew, she would remember this: walking down the seemingly endless line, sharing laughter, hugs, handshakes, slaps on the back. She tried to brand every face into her brain, every word, every expression. Whatever her own new voyage held for her, it would be hard-pressed to measure up to the exquisite, painful joy of this single precious moment. *

I will never, ever stop hoping for peace,' he said. His voice trembled with leashed emotion. 'I have seen too much good in too many people to paint them all as evil and worthy of slaughter. And I will also never stop believing that people can change. But I realize now that I've been like a farmer expecting to harvest crops from a poisoned field. It's simply not possible' . . . 'People can change,' Anduin repeated. 'But some people will never-never-desire to do so.

Will you see Dad when you get back?” “Yes,” said Miral, without having to pause to think about it. B’Elanna was startled by the swift response. “Enough time has passed so that there should not be pain. And if there is then we will simply have to push through it. The child you and your husband have borne carries both our blood. It is foolish to let years of personal resentment deny the girl our wisdom.” Torres stared. Sometimes, when you least expected it, Klingons could be so very practical. • • • Seven

The King, he went a -walking, on merry morn in May. The King, he laid him down to rest, and fell asleep, they say. And when he woke, 'twas even, (The hour of magic mood) And Bluebell, Wild Bluebell, was dancing in the wood. The king, he gave a banquet to all the flowers (save one), With hungry eyes he watched them, a-seeking one alone. The rose was there in satin. The Lily with green hood But Bluebell, wild Bluebell only dances in the wood. The King, he frowned in anger, his hand upon his sword. He sent his men to seize her, and bring her to their Lord. With silken cords they bound her, Before the King she stood, Bluebell, wild Bluebell, who dances in the wood. The King, he rose to greet her, the maid he'd sword to wed. The King, he took his golden crown and set it on her head. And then he paled and shivered, The courtiers gazed in fear, At Bluebell, grey Bluebell, so pale and ghostly there. "O King, your grown is heavy, 'twould bow my head with care. Your palace walls would shut me in, who live as free as air. The wind, he is my lover, The sun my lover too, And Bluebell, whild Bluebell, shall ne'er be Queen to you." The King, he mourned a twelvemonth, and none could ease his pain. The King, he went a-walking a-down a lovers' lane. He laid aside his golden crown, Into the wood went he, Where Bluebell, wild Bluebell, dances ever wild and free.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, written by Christie in 1926, is perhaps the most quintessential golden-age murder mystery ever written in absolutely every way—except one. But it is this one spectacular difference that sets it apart from other books of the era and that catapulted Agatha Christie into the upper echelons of the genre. In fact, as the ending was so unorthodox and apparently broke the rules of the Detection Club’s oath—tongue-in-cheek though they were—there was a movement to expel Christie from the club entirely! Only a vote by fellow female crime writer Dorothy L. Sayers saved her. If this doesn’t make you intrigued to read the book, you don’t need to just take my word for it—in 2013, nearly ninety years after its publication, the British Crime Writers’ Association voted it the best crime novel ever, calling it “the finest example of the genre ever penned.” It features typical golden-era elements within the text, like a floor plan of all the rooms of the house and heavily buried clues, and I’m of the opinion that the only way to do this particular book justice is to read it. Don’t watch an adaptation, don’t listen to an audiobook, and don’t use an e-reading device and deny yourself the pleasure of the rustling pages peppered with nuance. Buy a copy of the book and read it. It’s the only way you can read between the lines of this clever tale.