Ewe Quotes

Hope is a precious thing, isn’t it,” she says. “And yet, we don’t really appreciate it until it’s gone.

This is how The Jewel operates. Status is our sole occupation. Gossip is our currency.

When you feel neglected, think of the female salmon, who lays 3,000,000 eggs but no one remembers her on Mother's Day

God put the moon in the sky to remind us that our darkest moments lead to our brightest.

Mrs. Ewing was a short woman who accepted the obligation borne by so many short women to make up in vivacity what they lack in number of inches from the ground.

Daimonds are a girls best friend- they're sharper than knives

It would be easier to forget you," he says to me, "and these past few weeks we've had together. It would be easier if I could hate you. But the sad truth is, I will more than likely love you for the rest of my life.

Strip back the beliefs pasted on by governesses, schools, and states, you find indelible truths at one's core. Rome'll decline and fall again, Cortés'll lay Tenochtitlán to waste again, and later, Ewing will sail again, Adrian'll be blown to pieces again, you and I'll sleep under the Corsican stars again, I'll come to Bruges again, fall in and out of love with Eva again, you'll read this letter again, the sun'll grow cold again. Nietzsche's gramophone record. When it ends, the Old One plays it again, for an eternity of eternities.

Ser Cleos looked like a weasel, fought like a goose, and had the courage of an especially brave ewe.

It's hard to remember who you were when you're constantly pretending to be someone you're not.

Life is like riding a bicycle. You get nowhere standing up, so get up on that seat and go!

When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood.

I love sunrises, even more than sunsets. There's something so exciting about the worlds coming to life in a thousand colors.

If you admit you need people, you can lose them.' Her gaze sharpens, returning to the present. 'But needing people can save your life.

Maybe hallucinations are just another reality that we don't see most of the time

You know that there are no black people in Africa,” she said. Most Americans, weaned on the myth of drawable lines between human beings, have to sit with that statement. It sounds nonsensical to our ears. Of course there are black people in Africa. There is a whole continent of black people in Africa. How could anyone not see that? “Africans are not black,” she said. “They are Igbo and Yoruba, Ewe, Akan, Ndebele. They are not black. They are just themselves. They are humans on the land. That is how they see themselves, and that is who they are.

Surrogates are not just silly girls, to be bought and sold and treated like pets or furniture. We are a force to be reckoned with.

It is odd, the twists that life will sometimes take. The ewe that you think will give birth with ease dies bringing forth a two-headed lamb. Or the ski trail that you have been told is treacherous, you navigate easily.

Oh, well. Everyone else has suave, cosmopolitan sheep: why not us? The Millers at Hepple have a ewe that’s been to Kelso three times, and they’ve never been farther than Ford in their lives.” Kate peered absently into the farm pond, and clucked again. “Thoughtless creatures. They’ve forgotten the fish.

What is life without a bit of excitement.

there won't be any pain, he promised. Only an eternity together. Come back to me. (Stanton, book #5)

The people you love make you strong, Violet. They make you brave and fearless. I wish there were some way I could make you see that.

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’d The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck’d up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ‘em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I’ll drown my book.

The ram winked. “You like my new wool coat? Because I like ewe. Get it? Ewe?

I am ewe to your ram. How can I call myself a man anymore?" "The penis is a dead giveaway.

These people are the air I breathe and the blood I bleed. They are my courage. I will not let them down. I

Our life is composed of events and states of mind. How ewe appraise our life from our deathbed will be predicated not only on what came to us in life but how we lived with it. It will not be simply illness or health, riches or poverty, good luck or bad, which ultimately define whether we believe we have had a good life or not, but the quality of our relationship to these situations: the attitudes of our states of mind. (34)

Oh, I do like you. You have such an interesting balance of obedience and contempt.

We all have things we are ashamed of.

I think you can do anything you put your mind to

An old black ram is tupping your white ewe

Where are we going?” she asked. “Mr. Durbin’s sheep have begun to lamb, and I wanted to see how the ewes are doing.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should have told you about today’s outing earlier.” Anna kept her eyes straight ahead and made a noncommittal sound. He coughed. “I might’ve, had you not left so precipitously yesterday afternoon.” She arched a brow but did not reply. There was a lengthy lull broken only by the dog’s eager yelp as he flushed a rabbit from the hedge along the lane. Then the earl tried again. “I’ve heard some people say my temper is rather . . .” He paused, apparently searching for a word. Anna helped him. “Savage?” He squinted at her. “Ferocious?” He frowned and opened his mouth. She was quicker. “Barbaric?” He cut her off before she could add to her list. “Yes, well, let us simply say that it intimidates some people.” He hesitated. “I wouldn’t want to intimidate you, Mrs. Wren.” “You don’t.

She had a way about her that spoke of homemade bread, and caring for people, and the kind of patience that women have when they help a ewe birth a lamb, or stay up in the night with a baby calf bawling for its momma.

Nothing is as frustrating as arguing with someone who knows what he’s talking about.

Stanton emerged from the shadows. "So your brother thinks you need a boyfriend?"he teased. "Stop.

It is frighteningly bizarre to hear myself described this way; a set of statistics, a musical instrument, and nothing more.

Hard work spotlights the CHARACTER of people; some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all.

I want to feel as though I am loved, no matter what decisions or mistakes I've made. Because I love him for all of his.

Inflation is when you pay fifteen dollars for the ten-dollar haircut you used to get for five dollars when you had hair.

It's brutal out there. A bear will eat a lactating ewe alive, starting with her udders. as a rule, animals in the wild don't get good deaths surrounded by their loved ones.

Ne xeletîye tu qesta xodê bikey di tengavî o wan demên zehmet yên bi ser te da dihên, belê xeletî ewe tu wî ji bîr bikey demê tu rizgar di bî o di xûşîya da.

Africans are not black,” she said. “They are Igbo and Yoruba, Ewe, Akan, Ndebele. They are not black. They are just themselves.

Computers will never take the place of books. You can't stand on a floppy disk to reach a high shelf.

The next time that we meet we meet as enemies!

I am a person. I am Raven Stirling. They are monsters.

Sir, I am a true laborer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man’s happiness; glad of other men’s good, content with my harm; and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck.” (As You Like It, Act 3, Sc. 2.)

Once you give up your integrity, the rest is a piece of cake.

Something had to be done. No one deserves this life. No one deserves to have their choices taken away.

This is about a race of people enslaved and made extinct.

Violet’s eyes meet mine. I give her a look that tries to say, “What is wrong with these people?

I look at my reflection and can almost believe I'm capable of something incredible.

Hope is a precious thing, isn't it," she said. "And yet, we don't really appreciate it until it's gone.

That's the thing about stories--they have to end to mean anything.

And yet you take away the one little ewe-lamb of pleasure that I have in this dull life of mine. Well, perhaps generosity is not a woman's most marked characteristic.

Nature is unselfish," she says. "It only wishes to survive. Humanity inflicts harm on it, digs up the earth, poisons the waters, harnesses rock and metal and stone for its own purposes. We are the protectors. We are the connection between humanity and nature. Nature is always searching for balance.

It hardens you, living in that place. It holds up a mirror and shows you the very worst parts of humanity. It changes people.

Don't recite that royal line of crap at me.

My name is Raven Stirling!” I shout. “And I am stronger than you!

They can be remarkably helpful, the dregs of society. And they love rebelling against authority.

I feel myself dissolve into a thousand molecules, amazed at how three small words can completely alter my state of being.

My mother used to say that a good meal could ease a troubled heart.

Who do you look like?” I laugh. “No one. My father used to joke that my mother must have had an affair with the milkman.

I suggest to you that, although you may have endeavored to gloss over the fact to yourself, you did deliberately set about taking your husband from your friend. I suggest that you felt strongly attracted to him at once. But I suggest that there was a moment when you hesitated, when you realized that there was a choice–that you could refrain or go on. I suggest that the initiative rested with you–not with Monsieur Doyle. … You had everything, Madame, that life can offer. Your friend’s life was bound up in one person. You knew that, but, though you hesitated, you did not hold your hand. You stretched it out and, like the rich man in the Bible, you took the poor man’s one ewe lamb.

Well, I could never lie to you, Thor. I'm actually the All-Mother's undercover operative in the cause of niceness and puppies, and I'm here on a top-secret spy-type thingie. Shh! Don't tell anyone.

The bruises on my arm?"she asked. From pulling you up,"he explained."I'm sorry."He touched her arm as if he were trying to take away the pain.

Haven't we all been wrong about this at some point? I mean, isn't that how we learn to be right?

I think the last dinner was preferable to this one. At least Raven was there. And Lucien.

How many more humiliations do I have to suffer? I’ve only been here a day.

They can't keep us from being who we are anymore. They can no longer be allowed to dictate our lives.

She wants to believe in the magic and the mystery of it. She doesn't seem to understand that we are part of that magic.

Once a small crack reveals itself, suddenly a hundred others appear. And then the walls that have been so carefully constructed begin to crumble.

I am Raven stirling. They cannot own me.

This woman can take her easy way and shove it. “I’ll take the hard way,” I say.

Nothing is so embarrassing as watching someone do something that you said couldn't be done.

Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all.

If you admit you need people, you can lose them. But needing people can save your life.

It’s my life. You can’t decide how I live it.

I feel like I'm seeing a sparrow in a cage, something young and innocent trapped by grasping hands. And I think that perhaps my own cage is simply larger than hers, so large I have never been fully aware of its edges.

The royalty take and take and it never seems to be enough for them. They steal girls to make their babies, boys to protect them, or seduce them, or serve them. But we are not objects. We are not the latest fashion or the most expensive prize. We are people. And I'm going to help make them see that.

Sex to a woman can be like a bad emotion or imbalanced hormones, if you can't get a handle on it, it'll have you walking around mixed up and messed up, happy one moment and inthe next plotting to kill somebody--value ypur goodies and know who you giving them to.

I hate him. But I hate myself more, for being idiotic enough to believe that I could have that sort of happiness.

I did not write you out of my life, but I would never want to assume my plans would line up with yours. You have the right to choose what you want for yourself.

Please don't set me on fire in the middle of the night.

What?" I demand, too tired and frazzled to be polite. "Did you think I didn't care? Do you think I'm not human?" "No," he replies. "I think you are royal.

Title does not protect you from everything.

We all have things we need to do, no matter how reckless or foolish.

Doctors are idiots," ...."It's the surrogate that counts.

If he don't ever buy you nothing and I mean nothing - I don't mean your birthstone, I don't mean groceries, even - I mean if he don't buy you an ice-cream cone, I mean if he don't buy you time when you had none, I mean if he don't buy your fantastic tales, calls them nonsense, then he's gotta go.

That's Collin."She panicked."He can't see you!" Don't tell me you're afraid of your own brother?"Staton seemed to think that was funny.She hated the smirk that crept over his face. She shoved him."You want Collin to kill you?Hide." That made him laugh louder."Kill me?" Stop it,"she warned him,or he'll hear you." You think I should be afraid of your brother?I'm immortal." Collin's heavy steps filled the downstairs hallway.Her heart raced.Why was life so complicated?

Don't start acting like you're responsible for everyone's problems. I make my own choices. So do you.. Being lied to or bribed or coerced doesn't qualify as making a choice

Can I not have the same freedom you have? To choose what I want. Choice is freedom, Violet.

I press my face against the wrought-iron bars on my window - they are arched and curl into the shape of roses, as i by making a pretty pattern, they can pretend they're something they're not.

I ran from the barn out through the herd to make certain and saw that the coyote was really dead, as was the sheep, but I ran smack into what makes border collies the incredible beings that they are. Louise grabbed at the coyote’s neck, growling, and having made certain that it was dead, tried to bring the sheep back to life. She pulled at the ewe, trying to lift her to her feet, nudged at her ribs in a kind of crude CPR,

That ewe's life had been saved not by medicinal therapy but simply by stopping her pain and allowing nature to do its own job of healing. It was a lesson I have never forgotten; the animals confronted with severe continuous pain and the terror and shock that goes with it will often retreat even into death, and if you can remove that pain amazing things can happen. It is difficult to explain rationally but I know that it is so.

He loves you, do you see that? He loves you and he hates himself and he'll never, ever be good enough, not for you or his family or anyone. He was stolen, taken away and twisted, and everything that was pure inside him was left to rot and decay. He's ashamed.' She returns to the present and looks at Ash. 'We all have things we are ashamed of.

In antiquity, Hekate was loved and revered as the goddess of the dark moon. People looked to her as a guardian against unseen dangers and spiritual foes. All was well until Persephone, the goddess of spring, was kidnapped by Hades and ordered to live in the underworld for three months each year. Persephone was afraid to make the journey down to the land of the dead alone, so year after year Hekate lovingly guided her through the dark passageway and back. Over time Hekate became known as Persephone's attendant. But because Persephone was also the queen of the lower world, who ruled over the dead with her husband, Hades, Hekate's role as a guardian goddess soon became twisted and distorted until she was known as the evil witch goddess who stalked the night, looking for innocent people to bewitch and carry off to the underworld. Today few know the great goddess Hekate. Those who do are blessed with her compassion for a soul lost in the realm of evil. Some are given a key.

Diana was the goddess of the hunt and of all newborn creatures. Women prayed to her for happiness in marriage and childbirth, but her strength was so great that even the warlike Amazons worshipped her. No man was worthy of her love, until powerful Orion won her affection. She was about to marry him, but her twin brother, Apollo, was angered that she had fallen in love. One day, Apollo saw Orion in the sea with only his head above the water. Apollo tricked Diana by challenging her to hit the mark bobbing in the distant sea. Diana shot her arrow with deadly aim. Later, the waves rolled dead Orion to shore. Lamenting her fatal blunder, Diana placed Orion in the starry sky. Every night, she would lift her torch in the dark to see her beloved. Her light gave comfort to all, and soon she became known as a goddess of the moon. It was whispered that if a girl-childwas born in the wilderness, delivered by the great goddess Diana, she would be known for her fierce protection of the innocent.

In the life of Moses, in Hebrew folklore, there is a remarkable passage. Moses finds a shepherd in the desert. He spends the day with the shepherd and helps him milk his ewes, and at the end of the day he sees that the shepherd puts the best milk he has in a wooden bowl, which he places on a flat stone some distance away. So Moses asks him what it is for, and the shepherd replies 'This is God's milk.' Moses is puzzled and asks him what he means. The shepherd says 'I always take the best milk I possess, and I bring it as on offering to God.' Moses, who is far more sophisticated than the shepherd with his naive faith, asks, 'And does God drink it?' 'Yes,' replies the shepherd, 'He does.' Then Moses feels compelled to enlighten the poor shepherd and he explains that God, being pure spirit, does not drink milk. Yet the shepherd is sure that He does, and so they have a short argument, which ends with Moses telling the shepherd to hide behind the bushes to find out whether in fact God does come to drink the milk. Moses then goes out to pray in the desert. The shepherd hides, the night comes, and in the moonlight the shepherd sees a little fox that comes trotting from the desert, looks right, looks left and heads straight towards the milk, which he laps up, and disappears into the desert again. The next morning Moses finds the shepherd quite depressed and downcast. 'What's the matter?' he asks. The shepherd says 'You were right, God is pure spirit, and He doesn't want my milk.' Moses is surprised. He says 'You should be happy. You know more about God than you did before.' 'Yes, I do' says the shepherd, 'but the only thing I could do to express my love for Him has been taken away from me.' Moses sees the point. He retires into the desert and prays hard. In the night in a vision, God speaks to him and says 'Moses, you were wrong. It is true that I am pure spirit. Nevertheless I always accepted with gratitude the milk which the shepherd offered me, as the expression of his love, but since, being pure spirit, I do not need the milk, I shared it with this little fox, who is very fond of milk.

Ever since black people came to this country we have needed a Moses. There has always been so much water that needs parting. It seems like all black children, from the time we are born, come into the world in the midst of a rushing current that threatens to swallow us whole if we don't heed the many, many warnings we are told to heed. We come into the world as alchemists of the water, bending it, willing it to bear us safe passage and cleanse us along the way, to teach us to move with joy and purpose and to never, ever stop flowing forward into something grand waiting at the other end of the delta. We're a people forever in exodus. Before Moses there was Abraham, and ever since black people came to this country we have needed an Abraham. We have always been sending each other away -- for our own good, don't you know it -- and calling each other back, finding kinship where a well springs from tears. We are masters of the art of sacrifice; no one is more skilled at laying their greatest beloveds on the altar and feeling certainty even as we feel sorrow. And when we see the ram, we know how to act fast, and prosper, even as the stone knife warms in our hands.

She held a scarlet sequin dress to her chest and posed in front of a mirror. Too hot. She put it back and took a black mini. Too dreary. Then a blue as pale as a whisper caught her eye. She took the dress. The material was silky and clinging. Perfect for a goddess. On the floor below the dress sat scrappy wraparound high-heeled sandals that matched the blue. She didn't understand why she needed to dress up to meet Stanton but the impulse to steal into the storage room had been rising in her since the sun set. She took the dress and sandals back to her room, then sat on the floor and painted her toenails and fingernails pale blue. She drew waves of eternal flames and spiral hearts in silver and blue around her ankles and up her legs with body paints. When she was done, she pressed a Q-tip into glitter eye shadow and spread sparkles on her lid and below her eye. With a sudden impulse she swirled the lines over her temple and into her hairline. She liked the look. She rolled blue mascara on her lashes, then brushed her hair and snapped crystals in the long blond strands. She squeezed glitter lotion into her palms and rubbed it on her shoulders and arms. Last she took the dress and stepped into it. She turned to the mirror on the closet door. A thrill ran through her. Her reflection astonished her. She looked otherworldly, a mystical creature... eyes large, skin glowing, eyelashes longer, thicker. Everything about her was more powerful and sleek and fairy tale. Surely this wasn't really happening. Maybe she would wake up and run to school and tell Catty about her crazy dreams. But another part of her knew this was real. She leaned to one side. The dress exposed too much thigh. "Good." Her audacity surprised her. Another time she would have changed her dress. But why should she?