Eppie Quotes

Not all breaks are clean. Sometimes we crumble, sometimes we erode. And those erosions, Eppie-the ones that chip away at our hopes and dreams and out plans for the futures-those are often a lifetime in the making. It's those we must watch out for, my dear.

The gold had asked that he should sit weaving longer and longer, deafened and blinded more and more to all things except the monotony of his loom and the repetition of his web; but Eppie called him away from his weaving, and made him think all its pauses a holiday, reawakening his senses with her fresh life, even to the old winter-flies that came crawling forth in the early spring sunshine, and warming him into joy because she had joy.

her mind in that freshness which is sometimes falsely supposed to be an invariable attribute of rusticity. Perfect love has a breath of poetry which can exalt the relations of the least-instructed human beings; and this breath of poetry had surrounded Eppie from the time when she had followed the bright gleam that beckoned her to Silas’s hearth;

Everthing-absolutely everything-will be my I love you, Eppie.

O father," said Eppie, "what a pretty home ours is! I think nobody could be happier than we are.

There, now, father, you won't work in it till it's all easy," said Eppie, "and you and me can mark out the beds, and make holes and plant the roots. It'll be a deal livelier at the Stone-pits when we've got some flowers, for I always think the flowers can see us and know what we're talking about. And I'll have a bit o' rosemary, and bergamot, and thyme, because they're so sweet-smelling; but there's no lavender only in the gentlefolks' gardens, I think.

No child was afraid of approaching Silas when Eppie was near him: there was no repulsion around him now, either for young or old; for the little child had come to link him once more with the whole world. There was love between him and the child that blent them into one, and there was love between the child and the world

By seeking what was needful for Eppie, by sharing the effect that everything produced on her, he had himself come to appropriate the forms of custom and belief which were the mould of Raveloe life; and as, with reawakening sensibilities, memory also reawakened, he had begun to ponder over the elements of his old faith, and blend them with his new impressions, till he recovered a consciousness of unity between his past and present.

At the Texas fat farm, I met Ann Landers (aka Eppie Lederer), a famous advice columnist, and Lady Bird Johnson, who both took me under their (overweight) wings, which was an uncomfortable place to be. Lady Bird, when I told her the title of Star Wars, thought I’d said Car Wash, and Ann/Eppie gave me a lot of unsolicited advice over a less-than-filling dinner of a burnt-looking partridge that seemed to have been singed and then torched. It was still more than enough;

Honestly, Eppie, no one had ever cared this much about being close to me. I sorta don't know what to do with it," he admitted. "And though I'm completely flattered that you are envious of the physical closeness these roommates and bugs share with me, you've forgotten one thing." "What's that?" His words were doors, each one of them opening up another part of him, inviting me in. "That your heart already lives here." He picked up my hand and pressed my palm flatly against his chest, directly over his heart. "And you can't get any closer than that.

The gold had kept his thoughts in an ever-repeated circle, leading to nothing beyond itself; but Eppie was an object compacted of changes and hopes that forced his thoughts onward, and carried them far away from their old eager pacing towards the same blank limit - carried them away to the new things that would come with the coming years, when Eppie would have learned to understand how her father Silas cared for her; and made him look for images of that time in the ties and charities that bound together the families of his neighbours. The gold had asked that he should sit weaving longer and longer, deafened and blinded more and more to all things except the monotony of his loom and the repetition of his web; but Eppie called him away from his weaving, and made him think all its pauses a holiday, reawakening his senses with her fresh life, even tot the old winter-flies that came crawling forth in the early spring sunshine, and warming him into joy because she had joy.

Unlike the gold which needed nothing, and must be worshipped in close-locked solitude — which was hidden away from the daylight, was deaf to the song of birds, and started to no human tones — Eppie was a creature of endless claims and ever-growing desires, seeking and loving sunshine, and living sounds, and living movements; making trial of everything, with trust in new joy, and stirring the human kindness in all eyes that looked on her. The gold had kept his thoughts in an ever-repeated circle, leading to nothing beyond itself; but Eppie was an object compacted of changes and hopes that forced his thoughts onward, and carried them far away from their old eager pacing towards the same blank limit — carried them away to the new things that would come with the coming years, when Eppie would have learned to understand how her father Silas cared for her; and made him look for images of that time in the ties and charities that bound together the families of his neighbours.

If Marner, through the allegedly compassionate intervention of Eliot and Eppie combined, becomes, in his meek and modest way, a pillar of the social order instead of the implicit counterinstance adduced in the text as a pillar of salt, it is only because the threat of that salt, with which Eliot has no beef, cures him.

Ann and Abby, for the most part, remained aloof and practical. The position of the advice columnist, as they both defined it, was an inherently centrist one. It was their job to be dispassionate, to base their advice on social averages. 'Do not agree to engage in any practice you consider frightening, abnormal, or weird,' Abby once advised a reader. The Friedman sisters were not moral heroes. They lacked Dorothy Dix's empathy. 'I'm sorry' was not in their vocabulary. They could be intolerant and cruel and mocked people in distress-- Abby especially. But they never cast themselves as ethicists. They weren't interested in what was right; they were interested in what was normal. They saw themselves as keepers of the social curve. Their advice was a reminder of what was expected of their readers: to buck up, respect their commitments, not be weird. Abby preached acceptance... partly because forgiveness was more efficient than the alternative. She seemed to think that emotions were a waste of time. Eppie was similar. Her response to conflict was either to "dismiss it or rationalize it," as one friend told Carol Felsenthal.

Eppy had a preliminary meeting with the Parlophone envoy – George Martin,” Paul spelled it out. “Yeah,

A day late,” Paul held one finger up, “but never a dollar short, our Eppy.” The

Not sure what’s more attractive than someone helping something so utterly helpless. It’s like compassion in the purest form. That—to me—is incredibly hot.” “That’s funny.” “I’m not kidding around, Eppie. I really like you. I’ve liked plenty of girls before, so I’m completely aware of these feelings inside me and what they indicate.

If you hung out with these so-called 'normal'people you speak of, Eppie, you'd realized that it's much more welcoming in the self-proclaimed 'freak' crowd

Eppy - - with your help, I reckon we’ve brought lots of love into the world. I’m awfully proud of that. Aren’t you?