Fiji Sayings And Quotes

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we went to a church that had missionaries who'd come back once a year from Fiji & give talks. I remember one of them saying it was very hard work telling people they were going to lose their everlasting souls if they didn't shape up. I pictured people sitting on the beach listening to this sweaty man all dressed in black telling them they were going to burn in hell & them thinking this was good fun, these scary stories this guy was telling them & afterwards, they'd all go home & eat mango & fish & they'd play Monopoly & laugh & laugh & they'd go to bed & wake up the next day & do it all again.
Brian Andreas
When the second hour of Fiji’s open house was almost at an end, a mother from Davy said, “How on earth do you get it to look like the cat is talking?” “Oh, did it look realistic?” Fiji had to struggle to keep a smile on her face. “It was so cute! It said, ‘Get off my tail or I’ll smother you in your sleep.’” “Just some batteries and a CD!” Fiji said. “And isn’t that just what a cat should say?
Charlaine Harris (Midnight Crossroad (Midnight, Texas, #1))
the Prime Minister of Fiji awarded each of the twenty-four surviving veterans three thousand pounds, saying, ‘Fiji is not prepared to wait for Britain to do the right thing.’ Let me repeat that: Britain is not prepared to do the right thing.
Jane Davis (My Counterfeit Self)
You can’t have a relationship with someone hoping they’ll change. You have to be willing to commit to them as they are, with no expectations. And if they happen to choose to change at some point along the way, then that’s just a bonus. Words start tumbling out of her mouth, concluding with her desire to move in and start a family with me. It sends a chill up my spine, because this is exactly what I want with Ingrid if things work out between us. “You want to move in, stay with me forever, and start a family together?” “Yes,” she says, her eyes widening with equal parts sincerity and supplication. I picture what the future would actually be like with Sage: I imagine us married and raising children—until one day when she feels trapped again, she runs away to Fiji without warning, leaving me to explain to the kids that Mommy left to search for herself and I don’t know when she’s coming back. The winds of ambivalence will continue blowing her back to me and away again, back and away, back and away. They say that love is blind, but it’s trauma that’s blind. Love sees what is.
Neil Strauss (The Truth: An Uncomfortable Book about Relationships)
Christian missions to India imply that India is a land of heathens, and, therefore, stands on the same level with the Andaman or the Fiji Islands. That a country which has been recognised in all ages the world over as the mother of all religions and the cradle of civilisation should be considered as pagan, shows how much ignorance prevails in Christendom. Since the Parliament of Religions, I have been studying Christian institutions, and I have also studied the way in which the Christian ministers and the missionaries are manufactured in this country, and have learned to pity them. We must not blame them too severely, because their education is too narrow to make them broad-minded. I grant that they are good-hearted, that they are good husbands and often fathers of large families, but generally they are very ignorant, especially of the history of civilisation and of the philosophy of religion of India. Most of them do not even know the history of ancient India. We know that in this age of competition, centralisation, and monopoly, very many people are forced out of business. The English say, 'The fool of the family goes into the Church'; so that when a youth is unable to make a living, he takes to missionary work, goes to India, and helps to introduce among the Hindus the doctrines of his church, which have long since been exploded by science.
Virchand Gandhi (The Monist)
Whatever the reason, all these books, I thought, surveying the pile on the desk, are worthless for my purposes. They were worthless scientifically, that is to say, though humanly they were full of instruction, interest, boredom, and very queer facts about the habits of the Fiji Islanders. They had been written in the red light of emotion and not in the white light of truth. Therefore they must be returned to the central desk and restored each to his own cell in the enormous honeycomb.
Virginia Woolf (A Room of One’s Own)
Alexis, come with me to Fiji,” Jason whispered, holding her body close to his, sounding just as breathless as she was. “I would love to go with you, Jason,” Alexis whispered, her smile stretching bigger with each word that registered in Jason’s eyes. “Really?” Jason asked, sounding like an excited kid with a smile to match. “Yes,” Alexis laughed. Jason flipped her onto her back so she was lying under him on the bed and kissed her fervently, grinding himself into her with his excitement. He planted kisses on every inch of her he could reach, her cheeks, her chin, nose, mouth, ears, and neck. He was everywhere, blurring himself into her with each soft placement of his lips. “You have made me the absolute happiest man in the world tonight, Alexis. You have no idea how many times I have wanted to ask you today, or how anxious I was to hear your answer. The idea of having to say goodbye to you in two days was killing me. I can’t imagine not being with you, babe,” Jason whispered into her ear as his lips and teeth grazed her lobe. Alexis had closed her eyes at Jason’s touch, but they popped open when he reminded her how soon she and her friends would have been leaving. “Was it really only two more days?” Alexis asked. “Not anymore, babe,” Jason said, holding both sides of her face and kissing her adoringly.
Lindsay Chamberlin (The Shoreline (Following the Crest, #1))
On Washington’s Red Line, which may as well be called the White Line as it rumbles below the city’s palest quadrant, the atmosphere is discernibly different. It is all rustling of newspapers and ruffling of reports. It is sighing and harrumphing, little nonverbal gestures that say, all things being equal, they rather wish the entire world would fuck off. Washingtonians, it occurred to me, were not flip-flop people. I wondered how different America would be if the capital had been located in Key West. What if the nation’s motto had been Let’s get drunk and screw? Would the world be a better place?
J. Maarten Troost (Getting Stoned with Savages: A Trip Through the Islands of Fiji and Vanuatu)
We're going to start making chocolate," she says. "Our own recipe. The taste of Fiji. Pure and simple. Pieces of happiness." Her voice when she says it- suddenly it dawns on me, a bittersweet realization. Ingrid finally knows a thing or two about happiness. The dark, succulent kind, the kind you stake your claim to.
Anne Østby (Pieces of Happiness)
There's an old saying that guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days. It's been three weeks now, Armand, and the stench is pretty strong. I don't know how long you're planning to stay in Fiji, but in any event, this is your last evening in my vale.
Anne Østby (Pieces of Happiness)
Soon we began to collect a little group of odd people who would drink with us every cocktail hour. Brigitte, who was a 22-year-old German, very beautiful, could have been on the cover of Stern magazine. Her boyfriend Volker was one of the most beautiful men I'd ever met - people said he looked like James Hunt, the English racecar driver. He was like Billy Budd. He was from Germany and had been a cowboy in Wyoming. Then there was Elford Elliot from England, who had something to do with producing garden gnomes. He was tripping on acid all the time and going out to Delos, this little island off Mykonos, chipping little pieces off the ancient ruins, which he then brought back in the pocket of his jumpsuit. Then there was Bryan, an IBM operator from Australia, who fancied himself as a kind of Oscar Wilde figure. I don't know why. The only story of his I remember was about some Australians who stole a garden gnome from the front lawn of a very elegant mansion and took it for a trip around the world. They would send postcards back to the owner saying things like, 'Having a lovely time in the Fiji Islands' and sign it, 'The Garden Gnome.' After six weeks, they brought the garden gnome back and left it on the lawn with little suitcases full of tiny clothing they'd knitted for it.
Spalding Gray (Sex and Death to the Age 14)
How can you say such things?!' demanded Kon Fiji. 'Our lives may have changed, but death has not. Respect for the elderly and honor given for a life well lived connect us to the accumulated wisdom of the past. When you die, do you wish to be buried as a common peasant instead of as a great scholar worthy of admiration?' 'In a hundred years, Master Kon Fiji, you and I will both be dust, and even the worms and birds who feast on our flesh will also have traveled through multiple revolutions of the wheel of life. Our lives are finite, but the universe is infinite. We are but flashes of lightning bugs on a summer night against the eternal stars. When I die, I wish to be laid out in the open so that the Big Island will act as my coffin, and the River of Heavenly Pearls my shroud; the cicadas will play my funeral possession, and the blooming flowers will be my incense burners; my flesh will feed ten thousand lives, and my bones will enrich the soil. I will return to the great Flow of the universe. Such honor can never be matched by mortal rites enacted by those obeying dead words copied out of a book.
Ken Liu (The Wall of Storms (The Dandelion Dynasty, #2))
went back and helped her clean up. The police were able to find enough remains to identify, even ten years later, my cousin Rhys. That will never happen with Nancy Moore. No one will ever find the slightest trace. Oh, there will be sightings. An anonymous call will claim they saw her on a beach in Fiji. Someone else will say she’s living in a monastery in the hills of Tuscany. Or perhaps someone will spot her in London, where Zorra is currently paying a visit to a certain rotund pedophile.
Harlan Coben (Home (Myron Bolitar, #11))
49. Go To Fiji…Every Day! He needed to do ten days’ worth of work in one. Early the next morning, before the sun came up, Mark was awake and downstairs, getting ready for his monster mission to get through his to-do list. He made a quick cup of tea, did a couple of stretches, then hit his desk with huge energy and total focus. He had to get through this and get to Fiji, and he had to do it today. That morning he worked like he had never worked before: he didn’t dodge the hard tasks or just pick the fun ones. No, not that day. Mark started at the top and refused to move on to the next item until each task was done, completed, filed and closed. He was like a rhino, attacking that list head-on with purpose. He had a holiday to go on. Any obstacle he came across on his list, he put his rhino horn down and charged through it, never taking no for an answer until he got the result he needed. By lunchtime he was halfway through his monster work pile. He was so focused he forgot about lunch, and by 4 p.m. he had completed everything. Done. He leant back and let out a big sigh of satisfaction, amazed at how he had managed to do two weeks’ worth of work in less than a day. One thought crossed his mind as he sat there enjoying the fruits of his hard work, and it changed everything for Mark from that day on… ‘Imagine if I had to go to Fiji every day!’ Imagine how much we could all do, how many goals we could charge down, people we could help, adventures we could have and promotions would be ours…if we could just set about them all with that Fiji attitude. That’s why I often say to myself when I have a lot on: It’s time to go to Fiji!
Bear Grylls (A Survival Guide for Life: How to Achieve Your Goals, Thrive in Adversity, and Grow in Character)
And no matter how hard you work, men always make time to tell their stories. “Well, we had some boys from as far as Fiji and Rarotonga. Tahiti, too. I couldn’t understand the boys from Tahiti. They spoke that French. But the Fiji boys, two brothers, I swear they said what you been saying. The Sleeping King. Yeah. Them Fiji boys said it more than once.
Victor LaValle (The Ballad of Black Tom)