Eden Robinson Quotes

You honkies want women to be like cookies, all sweet and dainty and easy to eat. But I'm fry bread, you bitch, and I'm proud of it.

Close your eyes. Concentrate on your breath. Remember that you were not always earthbound. Every living creature, every drop of water and every sombre mountain is the by-blow of some bloated, dying star. Deep down, we remember wriggling through the universe as beams of light.

We are apart so that I will know the joy of being with you again. Take care of yourself, wherever you are. Take care of yourself, wherever you are.

You are words," the fireflies said. "Your soul is the poem. The struggle to make mortal words say the infinite unsayable is the struggle that defines sentience.

Names have power. This is the fundamental principle of magic everywhere. Call out the name of a supernatural being, and you will have its instant and undivided attention in the same way that your lost toddler will have yours the second it calls your name.

I used to think that if I could talk to the spirit world, I'd get some answers. Ha bloody ha. I wish the dead would just come out and say what they mean instead of being so passive-aggressive about the whole thing.

You shouldn't dwell on it," Mrs. Jaks had said. "Forgive him and you'll live without his shadow on your lives." "The world is hard," his mom had said. "You need to be harder.

You can put your strength down. I'm sitting here with you at your kitchen table. You don't need to say anything.

He didn't want to be a sucker, but he didn't want to be alone. Everything ached and all the choices felt wrong.

The moon, a sliver of white light, rose a hand above the horizon, then, tired, fell back. The purple blackness overhead faded into grey, the grey into pale blue; this was followed quickly by pastel reds and oranges, and finally, yellow rays streamed through the trees as the sun climbed.

Six crows sit in our greengage tree. Half awake, I hear them speak to me in Haisla.

Hey, what’s your wi-fi password?” “Ticats suck, Argos rule,” Jared said. “One word, no caps, no spaces.

Ma-ma-oo didn't gun the motor so we puttered along. The day promised to be a scorcher, but out on the ocean with the spray cooling on my face and the wind drying it away, the heat was bearable. I wished summer would never end. I wished I could do this all year and never have to go back to school. I wished I could pick berries and go fishing with Ma-ma-oo and spend all my days wandering.

You okay?" Jared said. "You've never called me Aunt before. Bring it in. Come on, gimme hugs." "Can we not make a big deal?" "No. Deals will be big.

Are you happy?” Jared said. “Mostly,” Phil said. “Better than nothing,” Jared said.

Realize that the plumpest berries are over the graves.

He wasn't going to be alone after she died, but the world was going to be a lonelier place without her.

but it wiggled around the back of his mind like a melody that you hummed without thinking.

My mom’s messed up,” his mom said. “The nuns messed her up. They made her think everything Indian was evil. And that includes you and me.

We hear the ocean in our dreams,’ ” Neeka said, “ ‘our cages of blood and bone sing her songs. Exiled on shore, our tongues caress the lost words we no longer understand, her language of salt and surging.’ 

B'gwus is famous because of his wide range of homes. In some places, he's called Bigfoot. In other places, he's Yeti, or the Abominable Snowman, or Sasquatch. To most people, he is the equivalent of the Loch Ness monster, something silly to bring the tourist in. His image is even used to sell beer, and he is portrayed as a laid-back kind of guy, lounging on mountaintops in patio chairs, cracking open a frosty one.

Aiden, we're going to sing 'Let It Go' now. I'm not trying to rile you up. I just want to see if the octopus thing reacts, all right?" He held his hand out for Eliza. "No," she said. "Sing something else. Please, Jared." "Okay, no Elsa. How about Nickelback?" "I don't think monsters are scared of Nickelback." "You'd be surprised.

Rachel Ries is a wonderful singer/performer/songwriter who writes her music with a literary and poetic style. In an interview with Amanda Miller for Rumpus Magazine Rachel Ries listed some of her literary influences. You can listen to her perform at this site too, if you've never heard her before. Here is her list in the order she gave them: Al Kennedy – Everything You Need Umberto Eco – Foucault’s Pendulum China Miéville – Perdido Street Station Everything by Tolkien Jeannette Winterson Dostoevsky – The Idiot John Steinbeck – East of Eden Willa Cather – Song of the Lark Diana Gabaldon – Anything Outlander Neil Gaiman – American Gods Victor Hugo – Les Miserables Marilynne Robinson – Housekeeping Justin Cronin – The Passage David Wroblewski - The Story of Edgar Sawtelle

I found a photo of Mom standing between Mick and Dad, who were both wearing basketball uniforms. Mom was perfectly groomed, of course, and looking very ladylike. I said I must have been adopted. Ma-ma-oo laughed and said that when Mom was a little girl, she was always doing things like tying two cookie sheets to her shoes and attempting to ski because she'd seen one of her movie star idols in a magazine, elegantly poised on the slopes of Switzerland. Mom flew down the hill, hit a bump and crashed into a bush. She broke her leg and earned the nickname "Crash.

All graveyards should have moss-covered trees creaking in the wind and the sound of the waves grating the round stones on the beach. The trees are so high and large here that under this canopy, even the brightest day is pale. Wander slowly, careful where you step. No neat row of crosses, no meticulous lawn, no carefully tended flowers will guide you. Too sterile, antiseptic. Headstones carved into eagles, blackfish, ravens, beavers appear seemingly at random. In the time of the great dying, whole families were buried in one plot. Pick wild blueberries when you’re hungry, let the tart taste sink into your tongue, followed by that sharp sweetness that store-bought berries lack. Realize that the plumpest berries are over the graves.

Joseph Campbell, the renowned scholar of religion and mythology, eloquently summed up, “This is it. This is Eden. When you see the kingdom spread upon the earth, the old way of living in the world is annihilated. That is the end of the world. The end of the world is not an event to come, it is an event of psychological transformation, of visionary transformation. You see not the world of solid things but a world of radiance.

Is this Enya?” “Grimes,” Sarah said. “Sounds like Enya.” “Whatever, Nickelback.

The neighbourhood was silent in the early morning, aside from the guy at the end of the street who played non-stop Slayer in his garage.

Mom.” “What?” She was trying to help. In her own way, this was warm and fuzzy. “Thanks for supper.” “It wasn’t even on sale,” she said. “I paid full price for that crap.” “When someone pays retail, that’s love,” Jared said.

Okay, Buzzkill, this is a win. You celebrate wins. You don’t shit on them.

Jared couldn’t follow the twists of this and didn’t really care. “Do you mind if I hit the shower?

Edwin Arlington Robinson once wrote that God slays Himself with every leaf that flies. I think the same is true of us. I think we cannot understand ourselves until we understand that living is a form of dying. My generation was born during the Great Depression and, for good or bad, will probably be the last generation to remember traditional America. Our deaths may be inconsequential; the fling we had was not.

As I drove away, I felt deeply comforted knowing that magical things were still living in the world.

People talk about how wonderful the world must seem to children, and that's true enough. But children think they will grow into it and understand it, and I know very well that I will not, and would not if I had a dozen lives. That's clearer to me every day. Each morning I am like Adam waking up in Eden, amazed at the cleverness of my hands and at the brilliance pouring into my mind through my eyes.

You are far from simple. You are a little universe. You are the wet and pulsing distillation of stars, a house of light made bipedal and carbon-based, temporary and infinite. You are also the void. Cartographers used to write on maps, “Here be dragons,” when they reached places beyond their known world. When humans touch the void, they say, “Here is magic.

Who told you this little gem? Chuck. Some random Chuck. There's a reliable-sounding source of information. He's a Wild Man of the Woods. You're taking advice from a sasquatch? You know they eat people, right? Chuck's a hugan. A what? Vegan, but with people. For fuck's sake, Jared. There's a difference between giving your power willingly and having power ripped from you. Did Chuck the fucking sasquatch tell you that? They don't like to be called sasquatches. You would drive a saint to murder.

For fuck's sake, Jared. There's a difference between giving your power willingly and having power ripped from you. Did Chuck the fucking sasquatch tell you that? They don't like to be called sasquatches. You would drive a saint to murder.

Each morning I'm like Adam waking up in Eden, amazed at the cleverness of my hands and at the brilliance pouring into my mind through my eyes--old hands, old eyes, old mind, a very diminished Adam altogether, and still it is just remarkable. What of me will I still have? Well, this old body has been a pretty good companion. Like Balaam's ass, it's seen the angel I haven't seen yet, and it's lying down in the path.

I wish you weren’t so hung up on bourgeois rituals,” Sarah said. “Decolonize, Gran.

Gran, I love you,” Sarah said, “but your blind adherence to the dominant culture’s values makes me want to scream.

This one’s pretty good too,” Crashpad said, holding up a boxed set. “These brothers hunt monsters and they drive around the country in this Impala and the tall one has demon blood but he—

Film crew shooting Supernatural near you tonight, Crashpad texted. Attaching map & bus routes. Take lots of pix.

Maybe I shud’ve let Mave have u, she wrote. A good time to practise detachment, Jared thought. Separate the emotions from the conversation. Treat it like information, because that’s all this was. Information.

You found the words for what we feel. We curse your enemies, Mavis Moody.” “Oh. Well, then, um…” “May they rot in hell.

Each morning I'm like Adam waking up in Eden, amazed at the cleverness of my hands and at the brilliance pouring into my mind through my eyes - old hands, old eyes, old mind, a very diminished Adam altogether, and still it is just as remarkable.

If you love someone, let them go. And if you have to point a gun at them to get them to talk to you, it's probably not meant to be.

Mave started screaming again, pointing to the ceiling as Bob drifted down and began running his tentacles all over the stump. "Holy crap," Hank said. "It's okay!" Wee'git said. "It's just a transdimensional being that's gotten stuck in the liminal space between our universe and his. Hers. Theirs. I'm not really an expert on octopus genders.

Jared felt as though he hadn't seen Kota in years. His cousin had neatened his haircut to better show his neck tattoo and wore strategically ripped jeans and a T-shirt that indicated how much workouts meant to him.

woman knelt beside me as I lay back in my lawn