Don Talbot Quotes

Good women don't reform bad men, they only irritate them.

Oh, they don't allow the Bible in Heaven, Miss Mary...It contains far too much sex and violence.

Don't save your good wine/perfume/cutlery for a special moment. That moment is already here.

I told you, knowledge is our Holy Grail, and I daresay the wisdom possessed by the vampire would boggle your imagination. You see, we don't have political allegiances to worry about, or religion, or differing mores. We all work together for one purpose: to further our achievements and our learning.

You understand the fundamental principle of an icon, don’t you? “Inspired by God” “Not made by hands” “Supposedly directly imprinted upon the background material by God Himself” All Icons fundamentally were the work of God. A revelation in material form. And sometimes new icon could be made from another simply by pressing a new cloth to the original and a magic transfer would occur.

Don't go," he said, and his voice was so soft and imploring that it took my breath away. But I was already going. I barely heard him call out to me: "I need you. You're the only friend I have." How tragic those words! I wanted to say I was sorry, sorry for all of it. But it was too late now for that. And besides, I think he knew. All life seemed utterly unbearable to me now.

When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, don’t you want somebody to love.

If you don't already honor it, it isn't special.

Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” I laugh, a harsh, horrible sound. “I’m fucking glad you suffered. I wish you’d suffered more. I wish your father had finished the job.” His eyes widen in surprise. He wasn’t expecting that from passive little Toy, or compassionate, caring Tamara, but I’m not either of those anymore. My pain and desperation have forged something new. “You took everything away from me. You destroyed my life! I don’t care if this is a gilded cage, it’s a goddamn cage, you asshole, you psycho, you nut job, and you make me sick!

Those were choices she made, Tamara. They were terrible choices. It was never your fault. Any of it. You were the child, and you had no power at all. It was her job to keep you safe, and she failed at her job and left you with this miserable burden that you never should have had to carry. You do understand that, don’t you?” “No, no, no…” I gulp for air. I’m getting dizzy. “You will. It will get better and better, until it hardly hurts at all, until you rarely think of it

Please don’t make me kill you!” Her face twists in panic. “I can’t be your slave again, Joshua. I can’t! Just leave!” “You won’t be my slave.” I’m almost on her. I reach for the gun. She shoots me in the foot, then screams in surprise at what she’s done. Instantly, I compartmentalize the pain. And I glory in the fact that she couldn’t find the strength to kill me. I lunge forward and snatch the gun from her hand. I wrap my arms around her as she howls and cries. “Tamara. It will be different. I want you to come with me right now, I want you to stay with me of your own free will.” “Never!” she howls. And the pain of it squeezes my heart. This is what heartbreak feels like. No wonder people whine and cry about it so much. It’s vile. It makes me angry and sick to my stomach. It makes me want to kill people

So why are you scared?” “Well....” Talbot looked around. “Something might happen.” “Then worry about it when it actually happens. I mean, sure, keep an eye out for shit, but don’t let it affect you internally. Even when some bad shit does happen, you need to react – so you shouldn’t be scared then either.

My name is Toy, Master!” I slash her breasts with the whip. “Louder!” “My name is Toy, Master!” I keep whipping her until the front of her body from tits to crotch is livid red. I make her rasp out her submission again and again, until her voice is hoarse and it’s agony for her, and then I make her scream it some more. Then I do the cruelest thing I’ve ever done. Far crueler than the whipping. I break my rule and I lie to her. It’s necessary. She needs this is as much as I do; she just can’t appreciate it. She can’t hold on to hope anymore. That hope, it’s harming her. It’s making her do foolish things. Things that might make me kill her. And I don’t want to have to kill her

I watched my brothers, both older and younger, those less worthy, fall one by one. Did I feel anything as I watched them gasp their final breaths? I don’t know anymore. I don’t remember what feelings feel like. They’re not useful to predators. With each death, my father’s gaze burned with scorn. My mother’s lips quivered, and tears shimmered in her eyes, but she didn’t shed a single one. My father was a predator. She didn’t want him to devour her. I learned the lessons my father taught us, and I adapted, and I alone survived. A predator doesn’t ask. He takes. A predator knows no fear. A predator is a hunter, and a hunter needs prey. A predator can only win if someone else loses

We’ve also learned the more challenging skills of saying what we really want, standing up to peer pressure, and trusting in ourselves to figure things out when we don’t have all the answers. Whether your dream involves travel or not, these are the skills that will take you wherever you want to go. When you learn to achieve your dreams, nothing seems impossible anymore.

That’s life in the Talbot household. My father works hard, but at jobs that don’t pay much and offer zero stability. He’s been laid off more times than I can count. On the one hand, you have to give the guy credit for plugging along, always landing something right before things fall apart. On the other hand, it’d be nice not to have to choose which bills to pay every month.

Scheming and dreaming will only fill your mind. Taking action will fill your life. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know how something will turn out or exactly how you’re going to do it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know all the answers (who does, by the way?). What matters is that you take the first step immediately and continue taking action every day until you reach your dream.

I, myself, searched for Sham-bha-la for eleven years. I am perhaps a little wiser than I was, but it may be I am only lazy and afraid. At any rate, it seems to me a waste of energy to try to learn what is beyond my understanding. I don't even understand my own religion. How shall I understand that of individuals whose thinking is said to comprehend all religions and philosophies and all the problems of the human race?

I don’t make you sick,” he says, tightly controlled fury dripping from every word. “I make you come. I make you beg for it.” “Yes, you had to make me beg for it.” I pour all my pent-up loathing and contempt into my hateful glower. “I didn’t do it on my own. I never would have. Just kill me and get it over with, you scum-licking pig, because I am Tamara Bennett, and I will end your disgusting life or die trying. I am not Toy, I was never Toy, and I never will be. You fucking failed at breaking me, like you fail at life, you piece of shit.” Instead of answering, he turns and storms out of the room. As soon as he’s out the door, I hear him shouting. No, roaring. An animal sound of pure fury. I hear glass breaking and a door slam repeatedly. I’ve made the iceman lose control. I smile to myself. I shut my eyes and remember that I’m Tamara again. It feels so good to be Tamara

Why are you crying and laughing at the same time?” he demands. Was I laughing? So many feelings are flooding my body that I don’t know what to do with them. I look at him haughtily. “You’d have to be human to understand, Joshua dick-sucking piece-of-crap Smith. And by the way? You’re a liar, you little turd-breath asshole. You lied about nobody reporting me missing. You know why you had to lie? Because you’re fucking weak!” He lashes out and slaps me, and my ears ring, and I laugh and laugh, spiraling up into hysteria. “Oh my God. My God. Thank you for proving my point, wussy girl. I call you weak and it hurts your sad little feelings, and you respond like a puppet because I jerked your string. You just slapped a woman half your size who’s chained to a bed! You’re so brave, Joshua! Did that make you feel good about yourself? Are you going to come now?” Just fucking kill me already. What do I have to say to push him over the edge?

Christopher opened the door and with a crisp nod to the gawking man, drew Erienne out ahead of him. They were in the hall before she dared release her breath. “Lord Talbot will never forgive you for that,” she whispered worriedly. A low chuckle preceded his reply. “I don’t think I’ll miss his affection.” “You should be more careful,” she warned. “He’s a man of much influence.” “He’s a man of much arrogance, and I could not resist deflating him a bit.” Christopher looked down at her, and his eyes danced with green lights as he searched her face. “Do I actually detect some concern for me in your admonition, my sweet?” “When you’re so reckless, someone needs to try to get you to listen to reason,” she said impatiently. “I take heart that you care.” “There’s really no reason for you to feel conceit,” she responded dryly. “Ah, milady pricks me with her thorns and wounds me to the quick.” “Your hide is thicker than an oxen’s,” she scoffed. “And your skull just as dense.” “Don’t be mean, my love,” he coaxed. “Give me a warm smile to soothe this heart that beats only for you.” -Erienne & Christopher

That’s not something I am capable of doing.” I make my voice gentle, and I stroke a wet lock of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. She stares up at me, eyes shining. So beautiful. My precious, lovely Toy. “I don’t want to lie to you again, and to say that I was sorry would be a lie. Being sorry would require a conscience, and I’m not wired that way. In my world, I define right and wrong. For me to apologize would mean that I was saying I thought what I did was…bad. You want me to be honest with you? I’m not sorry. What is right is what benefits me. End of story. But I am saying that I should not have gone so far when I punished you. And we’re going to have to work out a new set of rules and a new way to get along. Because I’m not going to lose you.” “Why?” she demands despairingly, her face twisting with anguish. “I just want to be free. I hate it here. I hate you, and if I could kill you, I would. I will keep trying to kill you, myself, and Elizabeth, until I succeed. Do you not understand that?” “I do. And all I can do is watch you day and night so I can protect you from yourself,

Erienne had avoided the final pat of Lord Talbot and left the flushed and overexcited elder stewing in frustration. She was most happy to welcome the return of her appointed escort and to entrust her virtue to their truce. They met in the maze of guests, and from then on Christopher kept the larger part of the dance floor between them and their host while Talbot stood at the sidelines and, like an anxious stork, craned his neck for a sight of the one who eluded him. “You’re being obvious,” Erienne cautioned her partner. “So is he,” Christopher replied, “and if he persists, he’ll be lucky if I don’t lengthen his stride by a boot in the rear.” “Why are you so determined to harass Lord Talbot?” “You know my reasons for disliking the man.” “Me?” she asked incredulously. “What little time I have with you, I am loath to share with him.” “Why, Christopher,” the blue-violet eyes flashed with puckish humor, and the barest hint of a smile curved her lips to mock him. “Methinks thou dost protest the man overmuch.” He went mechanically through the steps of the dance while his mind plunged to a depth beyond her insight. When his attention returned to her, he nodded and agreed. “Aye, the man! Him, I do protest. I protest his arrogance, his careless flaunting of his power. I protest the wealth he wallows in while his tenants grub for a meager subsistence. Aye, I protest the man, and I decry the possibility that anything entrusted to my care should fall to him.” -Erienne & Christopher

I can’t be intelligent,’ Clarissa said miserably. ‘I must be stupid. Mother Ryan says that I’m stupid, and Bob says that I’m stupid, and even Mrs Talbot says that I’m stupid, and–’ She began to cry. She went to a mirror and dried her eyes. Baxter followed. He put his arms around her. ‘Don’t put your arms around me,’ she said, more in despair than in anger. ‘Nobody ever takes me seriously until they get their arms around me.’ She sat down again and Baxter sat near her. ‘But you’re not stupid, Clarissa,’ he said. ‘You have a wonderful intelligence, a wonderful mind. I’ve often thought so. I’ve often felt that you must have a lot of very interesting opinions.’ ‘ Well, that’s funny,’ she said, ‘because I do have a lot of opinions. Of course, I never dare say them to anyone, and Bob and Mother Ryan don’t ever let me speak. They always interrupt me, as if they were ashamed of me. But I do have these opinions. I mean, I think we’re like cogs in a wheel. I’ve concluded that we’re like cogs in a wheel. Do you think we’re like cogs in a wheel?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Oh, yes, I do!’ ‘I think we’re like cogs in a wheel,’ she said. ‘For instance, do you think that women should work? I’ve given that a lot of thought. My opinion is that I don’t think married women should work. I mean, unless they have a lot of money, of course, but even then I think it’s a full-time job to take care of a man. Or do you think that women should work?’ ‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘I’m terribly interested in knowing what you think.’ ‘Well, my opinion is,’ she said timidly, ‘that you just have to hoe your row. I don’t think that working or joining the church is going to change everything, or special diets, either. I don’t put much stock in fancy diets. We have a friend who eats a quarter of a pound of meat at every meal. He has a scales right on the table and he weighs the meat. It makes the table look awful and I don’t see what good it’s going to do him. I buy what’s reasonable. If ham is reasonable, I buy ham. If lamb is reasonable, I buy lamb. Don’t you think that’s intelligent?

Besides the fact that you’re a scoundrel at the gaming tables,” she responded tartly, “I’m beginning to suspect that you’re a womanizing rake.” Christopher grinned leisurely as his perusal swept her. “I’ve been a long time at sea. However, I doubt that in your case my reaction would vary had I just left the London Court.” Erienne’s eyes flared with poorly suppressed ire. The insufferable egotist! Did he dare think he could find a willing wench at the back door of the mayor’s cottage? “I’m sure that Claudia Talbot would welcome your company, sir. Why don’t you ride on over to see her? I hear his lordship traveled off to London this morning.” He laughed softly at her sneering tones. “I’d rather be courting you.” “Why?” she scoffed. “Because you want to thwart my father?” His smiling eyes captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks. He answered with slow deliberation. “Because you are the prettiest maid I’ve ever seen, and I’d like to get to know you better. And of course, we should delve into this matter of your accidents more thoroughly, too.” Twin spots of color grew in her cheeks, but the deepening dusk did much to hide her blush. Lifting her nose primly in the air, Erienne turned aside, tossing him a cool glance askance. “How many women have you told that to, Mr. Seton?” A crooked smile accompanied his reply. “Several, I suppose, but I’ve never lied. Each had their place in time, and to this date, you are the best I’ve seen.” He reached out and taking a handful of the cracklings, he chewed the crisp morsels as he awaited her reaction. A flush of anger spread to the delicate tips of her ears, and icy fire smoldered in the deep blue-violet pools. “You conceited, unmitigated boor!” Her voice was as cold and as flat as the Russian steppes. “Do you think to add me to your long string of conquests?” Her chilled contempt met him face to face until he rose and towered above her. His eyes grew distant, and he reached out a finger to flip a curl that had strayed from beneath the kerchief. “Conquest?” His voice was soft and deeply resonant. “You mistake me, Erienne. In the rush of a moment’s lust, there are purchased favors, and these are for the greater part forgotten. The times that are cherished and remembered are not taken, are not given, but shared, and are thus treasured as a most blissful event.” He lifted his coat on his fingertips and slung it over his shoulder. “I do not ask that you yield to me, nor do I desire to conquer you. All I plead is that you grant me moments now and then that I might present my case, to the end that we could share a tender moment at some distant time.” -Erienne & Christopher

O termo ministério se refere ao ofício dos homens chamados por Deus e investidos pelo Espírito Santo com os dons necessários para estarem qualificados à manutenção e execução do ofício do anúncio, ensino e da correta administração dos sacramentos.

Finally it came to him. “Colonel, do you have a mirror?” asked Talbot. The marine frowned. “I don’t usually carry my beauty kit in the field, Doctor.

Mater, why don’t you and Miss Heselton take the main attics? Edmund and Colin and I are truly hardy souls.” “Well—” Mater said, frowning slightly as she weighed chills and dust against her husband’s plans for Edmund, then the aforementioned plans against the likely volleys back and forth between Reggie and Miss Heselton. “Wouldn’t want either of you ladies to catch a chill,” Edmund said heartily, with a smile Reggie absolutely knew Miss Heselton was going to take the wrong way. “House is full of invalids as things stand, you know.” “It’s so very sweet of you to be concerned,” said Miss Heselton. “But aren’t you worried about Miss Talbot-Jones’s health too? She seems very sturdy, I’m sure . . .” Edmund, in the way of men in general and himself in particular, noticed none of what “sturdy” meant in this context. “Oh, Reggie’s a fine strapping girl,” he said, and as Reggie considered proving as much by kicking him in the shin, he went on, “but we’ll send her in your direction if she starts to have the vapors. Good hunting!

The first thing I am going to tell my successor is, don't trust the military men – even on military matters." JFK

But I have a great deal to lose - my independence most of all." "Is independence so important to you? Is there something you fear I would forbid you to do?" "Forbid me?" Thora echoed. "The very thought that a man would have the right to forbid me anything spurs feelings of rebellion in my heart." He turned to face her. "Do you trust me?" "Trust you with what - my life? My heart? My future?" "Yes, all of those things." Did she? She considered Talbot a friend, yes. But she was not about to hitch her wagon to anyone else. To wash another man's dirty socks and lose what little independence she had. But nor did she want to lose his friendship. . . He stepped nearer and gentled his voice. "Thora. A husband is to be the head of the family, yes. But don't forget he must be willing to lay down his life for his wife." "I don't need anyone to lay down his life for me." "No one?" His fair brows rose. She shook her head. "I don't need saving." "There I disagree with you. We all need saving. But you're right - you don't need me. Nor, when it comes down to it, do I NEED you. But I do want you, Thora Stonehouse Bell. I want you to be my wife.

They say York is the most haunted city in Europe. Don't I know it.

Then there’s my absolute favorite. The car I searched for years to find: the Talbot Lago Grand Sport. I’ve spent more hours on that baby than all the others combined. It’s my one true love. The one I’ll never sell. The only thing I feel the slightest sentimentality about is my cars. Only machinery gives me that impulse to care and nurture. It’s the only time I can be patient and careful. When I’m driving, I actually feel calm. And even just a little bit happy. The wind blows in my face. Speeding by on an open road, everything looks clean and bright. I don’t see the little details—the cracks and grime and ugliness. Not until I stop and I’m walking again.

Oh, Talbot,” Tracy said, falling welcomingly into my arms. “What are we going to do with you?” she said, burying her face into my shoulder. “There’s always the rodeo,” I told her. It was the first thing that came to my mind. She wiped a tear from her eye and looked up at me. “You rarely think before you speak, don’t you?” “What? I think I’d be great, those guys that get in the barrel and everything.” “You know those are rodeo clowns, right?” she was telling me. “Clowns? I hate clowns. They are the root of all evil in this world,” I answered. “You honestly believe that, don’t you?” Tracy said. “There are zombies and vampires roaming this world, but clowns rule as the supreme evil being in your world.

Yeah, but Talbot, your missus -- she checked the name of the paranormal group you said you were leading, and there’s no such group. Certainly not walking through Eastern State Penitentiary , anyway. It’s condemned. No one is allowed in there anymore.”“Wait .… what? So I’m not getting my two hundred and fifty bucks?” I asked him. “I don’t think you get it man, there’s no paranormal group and certainly no tour.”“BT I just spent the last hour or so in that fucking place, I can assure you there was both.”“Talbot, I’ve been trying to find you for 24 hours. Tracy most likely has the National Guard on the way.

As the sun dipped below Twin Peaks, Jones wandered toward Castro and Market and saw the huge crowd starting to gather. “It was the most amazingly beautiful, heart-wrenchingly sad, magnificent example of what San Francisco is. It was gay people, straight people, white people, Filipinos, Chinese, African Americans, men and women of all ages, children, the poor and well dressed, people in fur coats next to people in rags. We estimated there were between thirty thousand and forty thousand people. We marched in almost total silence down Market Street to city hall and filled Civic Center Plaza, a sea of people holding candles. I remember standing there and thinking, ‘This isn’t the end of anything. This is the beginning.’ And I was right. “I think every city has a soul, every city is unique and special. But for San Franciscans, I don’t think there could ever be another place to call home. And a lot of it has to do with what I saw that night: with this ability to suffer horrible and dreadful events, earthquakes, civil turmoil, assassinations, and to not only endure but to create something beautiful from it.

I heard your jokes, Doc, good thing there were breasts involved.” “I guess I always thought the cheers were for my witticisms.” “Oh yeah, definitely not for Miss Double D’s tatas.” “I gather you don’t have many friends, Mr. Talbot.” “Ouch, that hurts, but you’re more right than you know. I apparently was born without the gift of a thought filter.” “And

Everything leads me to believe it,” he replied. “They got their hands on this communist who wasn’t one, while still being one. He had a sub par intellect and was an exalted fanatic—just the man they needed, the perfect one to be accused. . . . The guy ran away, because he probably became suspicious. They wanted to kill him on the spot before he could be grabbed by the judicial system. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen exactly the way they had probably planned it would. . . . But a trial, you realize, is just terrible. People would have talked. They would have dug up so much! They would have unearthed everything. Then the security forces went looking for [a clean-up man] they totally controlled, and who couldn’t refuse their offer, and that guy sacrificed himself to kill the fake assassin—supposedly in defense of Kennedy’s memory! “Baloney! Security forces all over the world are the same when they do this kind of dirty work. As soon as they succeed in wiping out the false assassin, they declare that the justice system no longer need be concerned, that no further public action was needed now that the guilty perpetrator was dead. Better to assassinate an innocent man than to let a civil war break out. Better an injustice than disorder. “America is in danger of upheavals. But you’ll see. All of them together will observe the law of silence. They will close ranks. They’ll do everything to stifle any scandal. They will throw Noah’s cloak over these shameful deeds. In order to not lose face in front of the whole world. In order to not risk unleashing riots in the United States. In order to preserve the union and to avoid a new civil war. In order to not ask themselves questions. They don’t want to know. They don’t want to find out. They won’t allow themselves to find out.” These astonishing observations about Dallas were captured in Peyrefitte’s memoir, C’était de Gaulle (It Was de Gaulle), which was published in France in 2002, three years after the author’s death. Snippets of the conversation appeared in the U.S. press, but the book was not translated and published in America, and de Gaulle’s remarks about the Kennedy assassination were never fully reported outside of France. A

mind. Why do psychopaths act as they do? How do they come to be? Why don’t they feel any remorse for the suffering they cause? And are there better ways of spotting and stopping them? After having been kidnapped, tortured and left for dead when she was just a teenager—by her high school boyfriend—she’s

they come to be? Why don’t they feel any remorse for the suffering they cause? And are there better ways of spotting and stopping them? After having been

Do what you love is lousy advice. Find out what the world needs and will pay you well for. Get good at it and if you don't love it, quit.

There is a vitality here of people, pursuing their own lives, unburdened by government interference. The price of nearly absolute freedom is borderline anarchy.” “A little law and order wouldn’t hurt.” “Whose law? Whose order? Fascists and Communists have in common the desire to get everyone into lockstep. I don’t want to get into lockstep.