Harrison Wells Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Harrison Wells. Here they are! All 149 of them:

Are you a peice of Saran Wrap? No Well then why are you acting so clingy?
Lisi Harrison (The Clique Ah-mazing Collector's Gift Set (The Clique Summer Collection, #1-5))
I am not a piece of property, damn it!" "But you are in my possession." She enunciated, "I think you are a lunatic." "Since you are too, that works well enough." His mouth curled into a smile.
Thea Harrison (Dragon Bound (Elder Races, #1))
I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite - only a sense of existence. Well, anything for variety. I am ready to try this for the next ten thousand years, and exhaust it. How sweet to think of! my extremities well charred, and my intellectual part too, so that there is no danger of worm or rot for a long while. My breath is sweet to me. O how I laugh when I think of my vague indefinite riches. No run on my bank can drain it, for my wealth is not possession but enjoyment.
Henry David Thoreau
Uh... ," Ivy stammered, and I glanced up to see her eyes wide in consideration. "I'm kidding," I said. "It passed the lethal-amulet test, remember?" "Not that. You keep it in your underwear drawer?" I hesitated, wondering why I was embarrassed. "Well, where do you put your elven magic?" I asked.
Kim Harrison (Black Magic Sanction (The Hollows, #8))
Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive.
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
I think you’re my hero,' she said. Only half-kidding. He stared at her, the picture of incredulity. 'Most people,' he said, 'think I am a very bad man.' She studied his eyes to try to find out if that bothered him. He didn’t seem bothered by them. He seemed discomfited by her. 'Well,' she said at last, 'maybe you’re a very good dragon.
Thea Harrison (Dragon Bound (Elder Races, #1))
It sucked so bad she might as well put a gun to her head and pull the trigger. Except she didn’t own a gun because she didn’t like them. Besides, pulling the trigger on a gun was pretty final. She had issues with commitment and she was so freaking dead anyway, so why bother.
Thea Harrison (Dragon Bound (Elder Races, #1))
Well, Dude," said Khalil, "sometimes you just have to get over shit
Thea Harrison (Oracle's Moon (Elder Races, #4))
The rag he'd used to clean the table went into the fire behind him. "I saw what you are," he said, "and I was ashamed. I saw what you expect from a person, and I'd call you a bitch except you demand it from yourself as well. I saw how you see me," he explained. "It wasn't anything I didn't already know, but it made me wonder at what I lack, what isn't there.
Kim Harrison (Pale Demon (The Hollows, #9))
I was naive and thought we could express our feelings to each other- not suppress them and keep holding them back. Well, it was what I felt, and why should I be untrue to myself? I came to believe the importance that if you feel something strong enough then you should say it.
George Harrison (I, Me, Mine)
When people dis fantasy—mainstream readers and SF readers alike—they are almost always talking about one sub-genre of fantastic literature. They are talking about Tolkien, and Tolkien's innumerable heirs. Call it 'epic', or 'high', or 'genre' fantasy, this is what fantasy has come to mean. Which is misleading as well as unfortunate. Tolkien is the wen on the arse of fantasy literature. His oeuvre is massive and contagious—you can't ignore it, so don't even try. The best you can do is consciously try to lance the boil. And there's a lot to dislike—his cod-Wagnerian pomposity, his boys-own-adventure glorying in war, his small-minded and reactionary love for hierarchical status-quos, his belief in absolute morality that blurs moral and political complexity. Tolkien's clichés—elves 'n' dwarfs 'n' magic rings—have spread like viruses. He wrote that the function of fantasy was 'consolation', thereby making it an article of policy that a fantasy writer should mollycoddle the reader. That is a revolting idea, and one, thankfully, that plenty of fantasists have ignored. From the Surrealists through the pulps—via Mervyn Peake and Mikhael Bulgakov and Stefan Grabiński and Bruno Schulz and Michael Moorcock and M. John Harrison and I could go on—the best writers have used the fantastic aesthetic precisely to challenge, to alienate, to subvert and undermine expectations. Of course I'm not saying that any fan of Tolkien is no friend of mine—that would cut my social circle considerably. Nor would I claim that it's impossible to write a good fantasy book with elves and dwarfs in it—Michael Swanwick's superb Iron Dragon's Daughter gives the lie to that. But given that the pleasure of fantasy is supposed to be in its limitless creativity, why not try to come up with some different themes, as well as unconventional monsters? Why not use fantasy to challenge social and aesthetic lies? Thankfully, the alternative tradition of fantasy has never died. And it's getting stronger. Chris Wooding, Michael Swanwick, Mary Gentle, Paul di Filippo, Jeff VanderMeer, and many others, are all producing works based on fantasy's radicalism. Where traditional fantasy has been rural and bucolic, this is often urban, and frequently brutal. Characters are more than cardboard cutouts, and they're not defined by race or sex. Things are gritty and tricky, just as in real life. This is fantasy not as comfort-food, but as challenge. The critic Gabe Chouinard has said that we're entering a new period, a renaissance in the creative radicalism of fantasy that hasn't been seen since the New Wave of the sixties and seventies, and in echo of which he has christened the Next Wave. I don't know if he's right, but I'm excited. This is a radical literature. It's the literature we most deserve.
China Miéville
Fabian had succeeded. She caught his eye and the two of them shared a look; it was the kind of look children wear when they know they've gotten away with something. At the same moment, Warwick and Florence also shared a look. Theirs was the kind of look adults wear when they know that somehow they have been well and truly hoodwinked, but are clueless as to the how and why, and know only that there's absolutely nothing they can do about it.
Michelle Harrison (The 13 Treasures (Thirteen Treasures, #1))
Is this place called Virgins? Well, I shouldn't be here! -Nina
Lisi Harrison (Invasion of the Boy Snatchers (The Clique, #4))
Ah, well. You can’t fix stupid. And you can’t heal crazy.
Thea Harrison (Moonshadow (Moonshadow, #1))
So you're out here mainlining caffeine and nicotine, or what? Gotta have my fix. I mean, I prefer a good morning fuck to wake me up. Well, it's a good thing you've got the coffee and the cigarettes, then.
Sabrina Paige (Prick (A Step Brother Romance, #1))
He poisoned her with affection and compassion, and he taught her what it meant to play again. He gave her hope and tore down her past, all with a fierce laugh in those remarkable eyes. He had already taken her soul on an impossible moonlit flight. She might as well give him her shredded, useless heart too, since she hadn’t been using it all these years.
Thea Harrison (Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races, #3))
Tell me where you want it,” I said. Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. “You’re asking me?” “Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead.
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
You could try to surrender to the experience and let change happen.""Change or die?" she said."Yes. Change or die.""You might have noticed, I don't do surrender very well,
Thea Harrison (Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races, #3))
Human beings, in other words, are always already dead. This proleptic knowledge of finitude predetermines their most creative as well as their most destructive dispositions.
Robert Pogue Harrison (Forests: The Shadow of Civilization)
Djinn were cursed with a terminal curiosity. It was often their worst weakness, and sometimes it was their downfall. Khalil was no exception. If a door was open, he peeked through it. If it was closed, it made the peeking so much better. If the door was locked, well. There was a natural progression to this sort of thing.
Thea Harrison (Oracle's Moon (Elder Races, #4))
Get your hand off me,” I exclaimed, voice loud with misplaced anger as I yanked away from his grip. “I’m a professional, not some distraught girlfriend.” Well, I was that too, but I knew how to act at a crime scene.
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
We must be as stealthy as rats in the wainscoting of their society. It was easier in the old days, of course, and society had more rats when the rules were looser, just as old wooden buildings have more rats than concrete buildings. But there are rats in the building now as well. Now that society is all ferrocrete and stainless steel there are fewer gaps in the joints. It takes a very smart rat indeed to find these openings. Only a stainless steel rat can be at home in this environment...
Harry Harrison (The Stainless Steel Rat (Stainless Steel Rat, #4))
Well, dude,” said Khalil, “sometimes you just have to get over shit.
Thea Harrison (Oracle's Moon (Elder Races, #4))
We'll talk about it later. I can only give in so much, you know." "I know," she said soothingly. "It's so hard being you." Dragos&Pia
Thea Harrison (Lord's Fall (Elder Races, #5))
Yeah, well, if he tries, I’m going to burn his office down to his red stapler.
Kim Harrison (The Witch With No Name (The Hollows, #13))
Her mind whited out, and she coughed. It sounded suspiciously like a whimper. "Well, okay. I guess I blew that round again, didn't I?" "I don't know," he whispered. "Did you? I found your choice of topic extremely interesting.
Thea Harrison (Oracle's Moon (Elder Races, #4))
You're the tattooed, chain-smoking, beer-guzzling, train wreck, son of the movie star who's marrying my family-values, ex Marine Senator father. You're a tabloid headline, standing right here in front of me! Yeah? Well, you're the goody-goody, stuck up, boring-ass virgin who's so uptight she can't find anyone to punch her v-card except the manwhore from her school who will screw literally anyone. And then turns out to be the most boring fucking lay I've ever had.
Sabrina Paige (Prick (A Step Brother Romance, #1))
The idea is to eat well and not die from it - for the simple reason that that would be the end of my eating.
Jim Harrison
Liam was starting to feel sorry for himself. It had been a strange and interesting day and he had learned a lot. He had flown! Well, a little bit, anyway. And lizard’s tails were delicious.
Thea Harrison (Dragos Takes a Holiday (Elder Races, #6.5))
I didn’t kill Francis,” I said. “He managed that all by himself. And Lee was dragged off by a demon he summoned. Nick went over a bridge.” Mrs. Sarong’s smile widened, and she patted my hand again. “Very well done on the last one,” she said, glancing at her daughter. “Leaving an old boyfriend to clutter future relationships is investing in trouble.
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
The articles were extremely eye-opening. Not just in Teen Vogue but in Seventeen and CosmoGirl as well. They were all about being yourself, staying natural, loving your body as is, and going green! The messages were the exact opposite of Vik and Viv's. Hmmmmm. Frankie turned to face the full-length mirror that was up against the yellow wardrobe. She opened her robe and examined her body. Fit, muscular, and exquisitely proportioned, she agreed with the magazines. So what if her skin was mint? Or her limbs were attached with seams? According to the magazines, which were - no offense! - way more in touch with the times than her parents were, she was suppose to love her body just the way it was. And she did! Therefor if the normies read magazines (which obviously they did, because they were in them), then they would love her, too. Natural was in. Besides she was Daddy's perfect little girl. And who didn't love perfect?
Lisi Harrison (Monster High (Monster High, #1))
Mom and I were walking onteh beach and I was explaining to her how I wantd to "GET OVER all my INSECURITIES" and "La La... La..".... and she looked at me and said "Sabrina, does anyone realy feel good about themselves for MORE than 5 minutes?" We both laughed. I was releaved to know she felt that way becuae she seems SO graceful, calm and beautiful, which she is.. but also full of so much more. Auestions, doubts + WONDER. I think that if we can aim for just five minutes a day of complete acceptance of ourselves, we are doing very well!
Sabrina Ward Harrison (Spilling Open: The Art of Becoming Yourself)
What did I care what some guy in brown shorts thought? Even if he wore the uniform very well. Damn, where did they go to hire these guys? The gym?
Kim Harrison (Black Magic Sanction (The Hollows, #8))
It won’t take but a few hours to ride out that way,” Harrison said. “We’ll take it easy.” “I’m sorry.” Ty looked up from what remained of his food. “Did you say ‘ride’?” Harrison nodded. “On a horse?” “What other kinds of things do you ride?” Zane asked.
Abigail Roux (Stars & Stripes (Cut & Run, #6))
Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it . . . but by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill. . . . Thus if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right.
Jim Harrison (The Raw and the Cooked: Adventures of a Roving Gourmand)
And to crown the whole, you must needs come back and make a martyr of yourself, so now anyone who cares a farthing for your life must watch you hanged; that is, if they do not decide to make a spectacle of it and draw and quarter you in the fine old style. I suppose you would go to it like Harrison, 'as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.' Well, I should not be damned cheerful, and neither should anyone else who loved you, and some of them can knock down half of London Town if they should choose.
Naomi Novik (Victory of Eagles (Temeraire, #5))
I thought this was the safest place to hammer out an agreement with Piscary,” I said meekly. “My office?” he barked. “Well…” I hedged. “Maybe a conference room?
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
When we learn to live well in this life with nothing left unsaid or undone we find peace, freedom and full self-expression. With that, we are capable of anything.
Jacqueline Harrison
Darling, the history of medicine is the history of the violation of natural law. The Church—and that includes the Protestant as well as the Catholic—tried to stop the use of anesthetics because it was natural law for a woman to have pain while giving birth. And it was natural law for people to die of sickness. And natural law that the body not be cut open and repaired.
Harry Harrison (Make Room! Make Room!)
It is hard, but I have faith in him,” Dragos said. “He may be small, but he’s already proven that he has a big soul. He can handle it. And in the meantime, we’ll put bars on his bedroom windows.
Thea Harrison (Dragos Takes a Holiday (Elder Races, #6.5))
She should probably stop calling him "the Djinn." He did, after all, have a name. He was Khalil somebody. According to one of his companions, he was Khalil Somebody Important. Grace wasn't sure, but she thought his name might be Khalil Bane of Her Existence, but she didn't want to call him that to his ... well, his face, when he chose to wear a face ... because she didn't want to provoke him any more than she already had, and she was really, really just hoping he might get bored and go away now that all the excitement had died down. All the excitement was dying down now, wasn't it?
Thea Harrison (Oracle's Moon (Elder Races, #4))
And if you expect you'll gain anything from us by your way of approachin' us, you're jolly well mistaken. That's all. Good-night.' They clattered upstairs, injured virtue on every inch of their backs. 'But - but what the dickens have we done?' said Harrison, amazedly, to Craye. 'I don't know. Only - it always happens that way when one has anything to do with them. They're so beastly plausible.
Rudyard Kipling (The Complete Stalky and Co.)
Well, the first reaction was, What smoke? When I looked and saw it, and we all ran to the back where we were far away from the flames-cowards as we are, you know-all sat around the emergency door and even tested the emergency door, ready to jump out. Of course, I said, Beatles and children first.
Larry Kane (Ticket to Ride: Inside the Beatles' 1964 and 1965 Tours That Changed the World)
It wasn’t the bent, nasty, yellow laminated four-by-six card everyone else got but a real heavyweight plastic tag embossed with my name. Jenks had one, too, and he was obnoxiously proud of it even though I was the one wearing it, right under mine. It would get me into the morgue when nothing else would. Well, besides being dead.
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
She folded her arms and said, "No. We're done with the truth game. Ask me what you want to ask me, and I'll answer or not if I like. I'll ask you anything I want, and you'll answer or not if you like. No forfeit, no control, no balance. No more favors or deals or measuring shit. We'll either have a real, messy conversation, or you can get the hell out." He grew angry. She could feel it shifting through his energy, slow and sulfurous like slow-moving lava. She liked it. His anger felt satisfying. It meant he wasn't indifferent to her. So she pushed him harder. "Go on, go.
Thea Harrison (Oracle's Moon (Elder Races, #4))
She asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?" He buried his nose in her hair, took a deep breath and sighed. "You help just be being here." "Well, that bit is easy," she told him with a smile. "Because I wouldn't be anywhere else.
Thea Harrison (Peanut Goes to School (Elder Races, #6.7))
Dear Jeff, I happened to see the Channel 7 TV program "Hooray for Hollywood" tonight with the segment on Blade Runner. (Well, to be honest, I didn't happen to see it; someone tipped me off that Blade Runner was going to be a part of the show, and to be sure to watch.) Jeff, after looking—and especially after listening to Harrison Ford discuss the film—I came to the conclusion that this indeed is not science fiction; it is not fantasy; it is exactly what Harrison said: futurism. The impact of Blade Runner is simply going to be overwhelming, both on the public and on creative people—and, I believe, on science fiction as a field. Since I have been writing and selling science fiction works for thirty years, this is a matter of some importance to me. In all candor I must say that our field has gradually and steadily been deteriorating for the last few years. Nothing that we have done, individually or collectively, matches Blade Runner. This is not escapism; it is super realism, so gritty and detailed and authentic and goddam convincing that, well, after the segment I found my normal present-day "reality" pallid by comparison. What I am saying is that all of you collectively may have created a unique new form of graphic, artistic expression, never before seen. And, I think, Blade Runner is going to revolutionize our conceptions of what science fiction is and, more, can be. Let me sum it up this way. Science fiction has slowly and ineluctably settled into a monotonous death: it has become inbred, derivative, stale. Suddenly you people have come in, some of the greatest talents currently in existence, and now we have a new life, a new start. As for my own role in the Blade Runner project, I can only say that I did not know that a work of mine or a set of ideas of mine could be escalated into such stunning dimensions. My life and creative work are justified and completed by Blade Runner. Thank you...and it is going to be one hell of a commercial success. It will prove invincible. Cordially, Philip K. Dick
Philip K. Dick
By the time we reached the front door of the party house—a total mansion, like Harrison had said—Nathan was far behind us. Well, he’d promised to stay out of our hair. “Wow,” I heard Bailey gasp as the front door swung open for us, though I wasn’t sure if that was her reaction to the freakishly large house or to the drop-dead-gorgeous guy standing in front of us. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, stepping aside to let us enter. Automatically, I found myself standing up taller and sliding my shoulder blades back for optimum cleavage exposure. It was like a flirting reflex. I just wished I wasn’t all sunburned. “Hello to you.” He grinned at me. A cocky, sexy grin. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. He glanced at Bailey then. “Any of us. I’m sure I’d remember those pretty faces.” I swear, Bailey was blushing so hard I could feel the heat radiating from her body. “Oh, you’d remember,” I agreed, tossing back my hair and putting a hand on my hip. “I’m Whi—” “Whitley!” I jumped and spun around involuntarily. Harrison was standing beside me, looking thoroughly delighted. “Hello again, darling. You look gorgeous—and the lack of flip-flops is making my day. Those slingbacks are perfect!” I nodded, glancing over my shoulder at the hot guy, but he’d already moved on and was chatting with a group of kids a few feet away. Goddamn it. “Wesley is just so busy,” Harrison said, following my gaze. “You have to give him credit for being a great host. He talks to everyone. Seems like way too much work to me.
Kody Keplinger (A Midsummer's Nightmare (Hamilton High, #3))
If she learned anything in school she learned this, courtesy of Albert Ellis, father of the cognitive-behavioral paradigm shift in psychotherapy. Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive.
A.S.A. Harrison
Money in hand, I glanced up to find Glenn eyeing a rack of stuffed rats. As the salesman rang up my purchase, Glenn leaned close and, still staring at the rats, whispered, “What are those used for?” “I have no idea.” I got my receipt and jammed everything in my bag… Glenn surprised me by opening the car door for me, and as I settled in the seat, he leaned against the frame of the open window. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and strode inside. He was out in a moment with a small white bag. I watched him cross in front of the car—wondering. Timing himself between the traffic, he opened the door and slid in behind the wheel. “Well?” I asked as he set the package between us. “What did you get?” Glenn started the car and pulled out into traffic. “A stuffed rat.” “Oh,” I said, surprised. What the devil was he going to do with it? Even I didn’t know what it was for. I was dying to ask all the way to the FIB building but managed to keep my mouth shut even as we slipped into the cold shade of their underground parking.
Kim Harrison (The Good, the Bad, and the Undead (The Hollows, #2))
And if he had to do it all over, he would do it again. In the deepest privacy of his soul, down at the bottom of a well where no one else could hear him, the part of him that had weighed life and death decisions over the last several hundred years took her life and weighed it against all else.---
Thea Harrison (Night's Honor (Elder Races, #7))
I'm not talking about the blood ecstasy. I'm talking about my being able to fill that emotion void she has. You know her as well as I do, maybe better. She aches with it. She needs to be accepted for who she is so badly. And I was able to do that. Do you know good that felt? To be able to show someone that, yes, you are someone worth sacrificing for? That you like them for their faults and that you respect them for their ability to rise above them?
Kim Harrison (A Fistful of Charms (The Hollows, #4))
So they think wrong. Am I to blame because the world is full of fatheads? You know well enough that birth control has nothing to do with killing babies. In fact it saves them. Which is the bigger crime—letting kids die of disease and starvation or seeing that the unwanted ones don’t get born in the first place?
Harry Harrison (Make Room! Make Room!)
sodoyouthinkyoucouldtrustmetogotothedancetonight?" she blurted before losing her nerve. Viktor and Viveka exchanged a quick glance. Are they considering it? They are! They trust - "No," they said together. Frankie resisted the urge to spark. Or scream. Or threaten to go on a charging strike. She had prepared herself for this. It had always been a possibility. That's why she'd read 'Acting For Young Actors: The Ultimate Teenage Guide' by Mary Lou Belli and Dihah Lenney. So she could act like she understood their rejection. Act like she accepted it. And act like she would return to her room with grace. "Well, thanks for hearing me out," she said, kissing them on the cheeks and skipping off to bed. "Good night." "Good night?" Viktor responded. "That's it? No argument?" "No argument," Frankie said with a sweet smile. "You have to see this punishment through or you're not teaching me anything. I get it." "O-kay." Viktor returned to his medical journal, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "We love you." Viveka blew another kiss. "I love you, too." Frankie blew two back. Time for Plan B.
Lisi Harrison (Monster High (Monster High, #1))
Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive. Cheaters prosper; many of them do. And even if they don’t they are not going to change, because, as a rule, people don’t change—not without strong motivation and sustained effort. Basic personality traits develop early in life and over time become inviolable, hardwired. Most people learn little from experience, rarely think of adjusting their behavior, see problems as emanating from those around them, and keep on doing what they do in spite
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
I could say. “Well I damn well knew what
Harry Harrison (The Stainless Steel Rat)
Well, I'd have more zing with George Clooney and Harrison Ford in a threesome, but neither of us are going to get that wish.
Nora Roberts (Angels Fall)
The road always stretches endlessly ahead and behind us, so that we are out of time as well as out of place.
Kathryn Harrison (The Kiss)
Everything was going too well. Something had to be wrong.
Kim Harrison (Dead Witch Walking (The Hollows, #1))
Yes, well, it's not, like I want to marry you" he said.
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
Morning sickness and bank robbery doesn't mix well.
Harry Harrison (The Stainless Steel Rat's Revenge (Stainless Steel Rat, #5))
Trying to get pregnant is one of my very favorite things to do. We’ll have to practice frequently, and with great enthusiasm.
Thea Harrison (Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races, #8.5))
She likes things orderly and predictable and feels secure when her time is mapped out well in advance.
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
It keeps us too hungry, too fixated on our bodies, and too caught up in the minutiae of our eating regimens to focus our energies on changing the world.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
Honestly, what had she done? She had taken one look at a pretty face and forgotten everything her mom had taught her about survival. It sucked so bad she might as well put a gun to her head and pull the trigger. Except she didn’t own a gun because she didn’t like them. Besides, pulling the trigger on a gun was pretty final. She had issues with commitment and she was so freaking dead anyway, so why bother.
Thea Harrison (Dragon Bound (Elder Races, #1))
There were two kinds of storms, Alice thought. One was a friendly kind that you could enjoy watching out the window with a cup of tea. It crashed around in the sky with theatricality but no real malice. This storm was the other, the killing kind. There are horrors that exist in the night, the bitter wind said, horrors that only children and demons can see. There are horrors that exist in the mind as well, that only the individual can bear witness to. The winter wind sang of things that the mind did not quite remember but that fear never forgot, filled as people are with the haunts and tragedies that make up the shadows of their lives. We can’t endure them, the wind whispered, for when the light and warmth are truly taken we are left shivering naked in the dark. Then we hear a nearby husky chuckle that tells us we are prey.
Thea Harrison (True Colors (Elder Races, #3.5))
Worship itself is made up of ordinary stuff. We use plain words. Some of the most the glorious words in Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer are, well, common and plain enough to make you weep—“We have left undone those things which we ought to have done, and we have done those things which we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us.” We are baptized in plain water. We consume plain bread and wine. And it all is lifted up by plain people.
Tish Harrison Warren (Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life)
Anne Lamott writes that we learn the practice of reconciliation by starting with those nearest us. “Earth is Forgiveness School. You might as well start at the dinner table. That way, you can do this work in comfortable pants.
Tish Harrison Warren (Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life)
Jenks snickered. “Yeah, Rache. Why bother? I mean, this could be good. Ivy could invite her mom over for a housewarming. We’ve been here a year, and the woman is dying to come over. Well, at least she would be if she were still alive.” Worried, I looked up from the phone book. Alarm sifted over Ivy. For a moment it was so quiet I could hear the clock above the sink, and then Ivy jerked, her speed edging into that eerie vamp quickness she took pains to hide. “Give me the phone,” she said, snatching it.
Kim Harrison (For a Few Demons More (The Hollows, #5))
A society that values strong, committed marriages will, by default, nurture the virtues that are critical to the well-being of children: keeping promises, delayed gratification, commitment for the long haul, a focus on education, the blessings of self-control. We
Glynn Harrison (A Better Story: God, Sex And Human Flourishing)
Disordered-eating behaviors don’t exist in a vacuum. If you start eating to soothe yourself after experiencing trauma, for example, you’re not doing that in a culture of “Do what you gotta do to get through the day, and also let me help you process your trauma.” No, you’re doing it in a culture of “OMG YOU’RE EATING SO MUCH, YOU’RE GONNA GAIN WEIGHT AND THAT’S ABSOLUTELY UNACCEPTABLE—YOU NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT, STAT! (And PS, trauma? What are you even talking about? Just suck it up and move on!)” So even when people start eating to self-soothe, without any connection to weight or body image, they eventually end up absorbing our culture’s toxic beliefs about food and bodies. In our society at this moment in history, it’s basically impossible not to fall into diet culture’s clutches at some point.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
We’ll spend our day conservative or liberal, rich or poor, earnest or cynical, fun-loving or serious. But as we first emerge from sleep, we are nothing but human, unimpressive, vulnerable, newly born into the day, blinking as our pupils adjust to light and our brains emerge into consciousness.
Tish Harrison Warren (Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life)
It was a good, sturdy chair of Dark Fae construction, with interlocking parts that could be disassembled for easier transportation. It bore his weight and size well. He approved. “I have a lap that requires a faerie’s presence,” he remarked to the room in general. Niniane’s tired face lightened.
Thea Harrison (Storm's Heart (Elder Races, #2))
Your name?" George asked him directly. He had probably seen the man a dozen times before yet did not know anything about him. King Davit would have no doubt have known half the man's history already. "Henry." George took Henry's hand firmly in his own and looked into his eyes. This had to be done delicately, to make sure this Henry did not think him a fool. He tried to think of how his father would do it. "Thank you, Henry, for your concern. It is a comfort to know I am so well guarded. I will make sure to praise you when next I speak to the lord general. But for now I think there is no need to worry.
Mette Ivie Harrison (The Princess and the Hound)
St. Thomas Aquinas, she knew, was reputed to say that he feared the man who had just one book, and she understood what he meant about the narrowness of outlook that could give. However, she thought, perhaps a man with one well-loved book might be a more rounded individual than the man who possessed hundreds and never opened any of them.
Cora Harrison (A Shameful Murder (Reverend Mother Mystery #1))
I think it will probably get messy sometimes, and I know we’ll make mistakes. Neither of us has lived a normal life, and even when people have the best of intentions, they still hurt each other. But do you know what that damn puck said to me the other day?” She nestled against him. “What?” “He said, ‘What would we have if we didn’t have forgiveness?
Thea Harrison (Spellbinder (Moonshadow, #2))
I don’t know,” she lied. “I need a few days to think it over.” Even as she said it, she knew she was going to take the offer. Hell, she might even escape from whatever dark menace haunted her rune readings lately, along with the owner of that predatory, handsome face. Or if she went, she could be running right toward it. Toward him. Ah, well. You’ can’t fix stupid. And you can’t heal crazy.
Thea Harrison (Moonshadow (Moonshadow, #1))
To be human means above all to bury,’ declares Robert Pogue Harrison in his study of burial practices, The Dominion of the Dead, boldly drawing on Vico’s suggestion that humanitas in Latin comes first and properly from humando, meaning ‘burying, burial’, itself from humus, meaning ‘earth’ or ‘soil’. We are, certainly, a burying species as well as a building species – and our predecessors were buriers too.
Robert McFarlane
Harrison Salisbury When Amor Towles was ten years old, he threw a bottle containing a short note he had written into the Atlantic Ocean. A few weeks later he received a letter from the man who found it: Harrison Salisbury, the managing editor of The New York Times. From this childhood incident, a correspondence developed between Salisbury and Towles and they eventually met. In his earlier career, Harrison Salisbury was the real-life chief correspondent for The New York Times in Moscow. The author of an important history of the Russian Revolution, Black Nights, White Snow, his memoirs were the source of some of the detail Towles uses in A Gentleman in Moscow. Salisbury’s cameo appearance in the novel, along with the mention of his fedora and trench coat (stolen by the Count as a disguise) pay tribute to Salisbury’s literary legacy on early twentieth century Russia as well as the author’s serendipitous connection with him.
Kathryn Cope (Study Guide for Book Clubs: A Gentleman in Moscow)
Your health isn’t entirely within your control, either, despite what diet culture wants you to think. Health isn’t something you can wrestle into submission by sheer force; certain circumstances beyond our control—genetics, socioeconomic status, experiences of stigma, environmental exposures—can affect our health outcomes. We can’t permanently change our body size through food intake and exercise, the way we’ve been told we can, and the same is true of our health—which, of course, is not dependent on body size. That is, even if everyone ate the exact same things and moved their bodies in the exact same ways, we’d all still have different health outcomes because of genetic differences, experiences of poverty and discrimination, and even deprivation that our mothers experienced during pregnancy. Many things contribute to health, meaning it’s not all down to personal responsibility, the way diet culture wants us to believe—not by a long shot.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
And then she started picking up trash behind the dumpster. It was ankle deep back there, blown in from all over the city to a kind of wind eddy between buildings. We picked up newspaper pages and hamburger wrappers, straws, cigarette packs, plastic bags, as well as shop trash that had fallen out when the dumpster was overflowing. There was so much, we would’ve needed snow shovels to make a real dent in it, but I didn’t think about what we were doing, more than to believe in easing a nervous breakdown with small bursts of insanity.
Wayne Harrison
Look, I’ve already fucked you twice. You don’t have to flatter me. Besides, I love my friends way too much to trade them in for the sake of looking hotter.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. I mean, Casey has been my best friend since, like, forever, and she’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. And Jessica… well, she has no idea about me and her brother. We weren’t friends back then. In fact, I didn’t want to know her after Jake and I split, but Casey said it would be good for me, and she was right… as usual. Jessica can be a little ditsy, but she’s the sweetest, most innocent person I know. I could never give either of them up just to look good. That’d make me a real dumbass.” “Then they’re lucky to have you.” “I just said not to flatter-” “I’m being honest.” Wesley frowned at the mirror. “I have only one friend-one real friend. Harrison is the only guy who will be seen with me, and that’s because we aren’t trying to attract the same audience, if you know what I mean.” A small smile spread across his lips when he turned to face me. “Most people will do anything to avoid being the Duff.” “Well, I guess I’m not most people.
Kody Keplinger (The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (Hamilton High, #1))
So you see, George Lucas is a sadist. But like any abused child, wearing a metal bikini, chained to a giant slug about to die, I keep coming back for more. Now why, you might ask? Well, (I would answer), let’s face it, George Lucas is a visionary, right? The man has transported audiences the world over and has provided Mark and Harrison and myself with enough fan mail and even a small merry band of stalkers, keeping us entertained for the rest of our unnatural lives—not to mention identities that will follow us to our respective graves like a vague, exotic smell.
Carrie Fisher (Wishful Drinking)
Tarantulas have also received a lot of bad press in the movies. Many movies and television programs starring such noted actors as Sean Connery, The Three Stooges, Harrison Ford, and William Shatner, have featured tarantulas as dangerous to humans or menaces to civilization. The Tarantula That Ate Tokyo is a long-standing joke among horrormovie buffs. The fact is that these movies play with the ignorance and fears passed on for generations by unenlightened people. Nobody would pay to see the movie The Beagle That Ate Boston since everybody knows what a beagle really is. Few know tarantulas as well.
Stanley A. Schultz (The Tarantula Keeper's Guide: Comprehensive Information on Care, Housing, and Feeding)
These days, diet culture pushes the narrative that the reason we stigmatize larger bodies is because higher weight “causes” poor health. In reality, though, fat bodies were deemed “uncivilized” and therefore undesirable long before the medical and scientific communities began to label them a health risk around the turn of the twentieth century.24 Fatphobic beliefs pre-dated health arguments. In fact, through the end of the nineteenth century (as for most of human history) doctors held that larger bodies were healthier. Anyone who wanted to pursue weight loss had to go up against the medical establishment.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
Of late I feel a cold blue wind through my life and need to go backwards myself to the outback I once knew so well where there were too many mosquitoes, blackflies, curious bears, flowering berry trees of sugar plum and chokeberry, and where sodden and hot with salty sweat I'd slide into a cold river and drift along until I floated against a warm sandbar, thinking of driving again the gravel backroads of America at thirty-five miles per hour in order to see the ditches and gulleys, the birds in the fields, the mountains and rivers, the skies that hold our 10,000 generations of mothers in the clouds waiting for us to fall back into their arms again.
Jim Harrison (In Search of Small Gods)
Its hard to stay focused on positive thinking at times. I for one, like everyone else, can feel sad when I think life has treated me unfairly. I can also feel joy and happiness when I am elated that something has gone well. Life has and always will be full of disappointments, and also full of wondrous contentment. In your own time of needs and struggles I pray that each and everyone of you can shake off the demons that drain your spirit and are able to regain your insights on what truly matters in your lives, for what else is there if we do not have love for what is troubling us and for what is lifting us. We grow from both so take joy in all that happens for living is what truly matters.
Russell Harrison
THE FAIR HAD A POWERFUL and lasting impact on the nation’s psyche, in ways both large and small. Walt Disney’s father, Elias, helped build the White City; Walt’s Magic Kingdom may well be a descendant. Certainly the fair made a powerful impression on the Disney family. It proved such a financial boon that when the family’s third son was born that year, Elias in gratitude wanted to name him Columbus. His wife, Flora, intervened; the baby became Roy. Walt came next, on December 5, 1901. The writer L. Frank Baum and his artist-partner William Wallace Denslow visited the fair; its grandeur informed their creation of Oz. The Japanese temple on the Wooded Island charmed Frank Lloyd Wright, and may have influenced the evolution of his “Prairie” residential designs. The fair prompted President Harrison to designate October 12 a national holiday, Columbus Day, which today serves to anchor a few thousand parades and a three-day weekend. Every carnival since 1893 has included a Midway and a Ferris Wheel, and every grocery store contains products born at the exposition. Shredded Wheat did survive. Every house has scores of incandescent bulbs powered by alternating current, both of which first proved themselves worthy of large-scale use at the fair; and nearly every town of any size has its little bit of ancient Rome, some beloved and be-columned bank, library or post office. Covered with graffiti, perhaps, or even an ill-conceived coat of paint, but underneath it all the glow of the White City persists. Even the Lincoln Memorial in Washington can trace its heritage to the fair.
Erik Larson (The Devil in the White City)
The intriguing history of American applied toponymy includes a few notoriously unpopular sweeping decisions a year after President Benjamin Harrison created the Board on Geographic Names in 1890. Harrison acted at the behest of several government agencies, including the U.S. Geological Survey and the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey, which was responsible for mapping the nation's coastline, harbors, and coastal waterways. Troubled by inconsistencies in spelling, board members voted to replace centre with center, drop the ugh from names ending in orough, and shorten the suffix burgh to burg. Overnight, Centreview (in Mississippi) became Centerview, Isleborough (in Maine) became Isleboro, and Pittsburgh (in Pennsylvania) lost its final h and a lot of civic pride. The city was chartered in 1816 as Pittsburg, but the Post Office Department added the extra letter sometime later. Although both spellings were used locally and the shorter version had been the official name, many Pittsburghers complained bitterly about the cost of reprinting stationery and repainting signs. Making the spelling consistent with Harrisburg, they argued, was hardly a good reason for truncating the Iron City's moniker--although Harrisburg was the state capital, it was a smaller and economically less important place. Local officials protested that the board had exceeded its authority. The twenty-year crusade to restore the final h bore fruit in 1911, when the board reversed itself--but only for Pittsburgh. In 1916 the board reaffirmed its blanket change of centre, borough, and burgh as well as its right to make exceptions for Pittsburgh and other places with an entrenched local usage.
Mark Monmonier (From Squaw Tit to Whorehouse Meadow: How Maps Name, Claim, and Inflame)
ome seventeen notable empires rose in the Middle Period of Earth. These were the Afternoon Cultures. All but one are unimportant to this narrative, and there is little need to speak of them save to say that none of them lasted for less than a millennium, none for more than ten; that each extracted such secrets and obtained such comforts as its nature (and the nature of the universe) enabled it to find; and that each fell back from the universe in confusion, dwindled, and died. The last of them left its name written in the stars, but no one who came later could read it. More important, perhaps, it built enduringly despite its failing strength—leaving certain technologies that, for good or ill, retained their properties of operation for well over a thousand years. And more important still, it was the last of the Afternoon cultures, and was followed by Evening, and by Viriconium.
M. John Harrison (The Pastel City)
The four solo careers unveiled previously hidden internal politics as each man packed and moved out from the cozy Beatle mansion. Lennon seemed closest to Ringo, and then George; neither Harrison nor Lennon ever appeared on a McCartney solo album or vice-versa, whereas Ringo played for all three. Of course, Lennon’s solo “career” had begun as early as 1968 with numbers like “What’s the New Mary Jane” and “Revolution 9” during the White Album sessions, and then his avant-garde projects with Ono. Casual jams reflected these affinities as well: John and Yoko appeared onstage with George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and the Bonnie and Delaney band in London in December of 1969. Harrison was slumming with the band after sitting in for a night and having rather too much fun; he appeared onstage anonymously until it got reported in the music press. Mostly they got away with two weeks of touring, with Clapton and Harrison sharing lead guitars almost before most audiences figured this out.
Tim Riley (Lennon: The Man, the Myth, the Music - The Definitive Life)
Perhaps even the dreams would have been better than what followed. I switched off the torch; the darkness was as complete as the silence. It was all very well to think that it was usually quiet at night but in my desire to stay awake for as long as I could, I found myself sitting listening to the silence, holding my breath, hearing even my own heartbeats, in the effort to hear something. I felt sure that I had heard some kind of noise from the direction of the car park below at the back of the motel. It was something moving, and when I listened intently it stopped as if conscious of being detected. For what seemed ages I strained to hear, but when there was nothing further I decided I had imagined it and relaxed, wiping the sweat off my face with a towel in the bathroom. Whilst I was doing this the noise briefly penetrated the room again, furtively. I stood petrified. The hairs on the back of my neck crawled like insects. There was something outside. There, again. This time it was a movement on the loose gravel of the parking area.
Craig Harrison (The Quiet Earth)
Feeling like a displaced person Laura struggles with being defined by her status as a widow. “Distracted by the word widow, which had taken root, budded and bloomed in her mind like a weed in a vacant lot, Laura opened the dictionary on her desk. Flipping past thousands of words, she used in every-day communication with family, friends, and acquaintances – those little black letters, symbols to express thoughts for the ear to hear and the heart to feel – she wondered, What words gave expression to her pain? What words described the sense of something lurking inside her, or the dark shadows stalking her mind? Widow: a five-letter word, preceded by words like wide, and widget and followed by words like widow’s peak, widow’s weeds, and widower. This little word – widow- in small case, had no business masquerading as a noun: a person, place or thing. In contrast, - widget, a small mechanical object, not a feeling thing, just an object – seemed an honest noun. Widow is not an object, she thought. “It’s a word so thin as to be nothing but a wisp of breath passing through one’s vocal cords and disappearing almost imperceptibly between one’s lips. It has no life of its own. It’s a mere label, and it could just as well be a piece of paper saying, chocolate cookies or best before date.
Sharon J. Harrison (Picking Apples In The Sunshine)
Oh, for crying out loud. This was like some kind of modern version of My Fair Lady. Only with Vampyres. She made herself breathe evenly for a few moments. "You've made your point." "Have I? How fortuitous." As he lounged back in his chair, all the subtle signs of aggravation disappeared. "Then perhaps we should get back to the task at hand, so that I can determine what you have learned before going on to teach you what you haven't." Okay, that went too far. One small part of her mind--the wary part, the sensible part -- started to whisper, "Don't say it, don't say it..." But the rest of her was too exasperated to listen. She flung out her hands and opened her eyes wide. "Who says fortuitous these days?" He just looked at her. The slanted angle of his mouth had returned, as well as the slight snap to his diction. "Apparently, I do. Now if you are quite through, it might behoove you to remember that a successful attendant is nowhere near this argumentative with her patron." The devil took hold of her tongue. There was no other explanation for it. "Behoove," she said. The angle of his mouth leveled out, and his voice turned exceedingly, dangerously soft. "Yes. Behoove." She opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. "Don't say it." Gray-green eyes narrowed, daring her to cross the line.
Thea Harrison (Night's Honor (Elder Races, #7))
So what will you do?” Joseph, Lord Kesmore, asked his brothers-by-marriage. Westhaven glanced around and noted Their Graces were absent, and the ladies were gathered near the hearth on the opposite side of the large, comfortable family parlor. “Do? I wasn’t aware we were required to do anything besides eat and drink in quantities sufficient to tide us over until summer of next year,” Westhaven said. The Marquess of Deene patted his flat tummy. “Hear, hear. And make toasts. One must make holiday toasts.” St. Just shifted where he lounged against the mantel. “Make babies, you mean. My sister looks like she’s expecting a foal, not a Windham grandchild, Deene.” Gentle ribbing ensued, which Westhaven knew was meant to alleviate the worry in Deene’s eyes. “The first baby is the worst,” Westhaven said. “His Grace confirms this. Thereafter, one has a sense of what to expect, and one’s lady is less anxious over the whole business.” “One’s lady?” Lord Valentine scoffed. “You fool nobody, Westhaven, but Kesmore raises an excellent point. Every time I peek into the studio in search of my baroness, all I see is that Harrison and Jenny are painting or arguing.” “Arguing is good,” Kesmore informed a glass that did not contain tea. “Louisa and I argue a great deal.” Respectful silence ensued before the Earl of Hazelton spoke up. “Maggie and I argue quite a bit as well. I daresay the consequences of one of our rousing donnybrooks will show up in midsummer.” Toasting followed, during which Lord Valentine admitted congratulations were also in order regarding his baroness, and St. Just allowed he suspected his countess was similarly blessed, but waiting until after Christmas to make her announcement. When
Grace Burrowes (Lady Jenny's Christmas Portrait (The Duke's Daughters, #5; Windham, #8))
I have such trouble, getting all these manuscripts every year by the hundreds, and galleys and so on, because you can tell right away if a person’s not in touch; if they want sincerity, or to be right, it’s hopeless. If there isn’t a primary intoxication with language and playfulness of their own consciousness, it’s hopeless. If they just want to be right, well then they’d be better off being a professor, wouldn’t they?
Jim Harrison
Then it was just him and the killer in the room. Harrison’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness and he could now see a figure lying on the floor. Even so, he couldn’t see well enough to identify him, but he didn’t need to. He already knew who the killer was.
Trent Ruble (Harrison Davis: Proof Beyond a Reasonable Doubt)
If she learned anything in school she learned this, courtesy of Albert Ellis, father of the cognitive-behavioral paradigm shift in psychotherapy. Other people are not here to fulfil our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will general feelings of anger and resentment.
A.S.A. Harrison
An in-depth, introspective analysis is required. It needs to be objective, candid, and thorough. Good questions, like the following, can help. They may not produce perfectly clear answers, but they are a starting point. (Note that they are from an external perspective to give you some distance from internal biases.) What would our competitors say we do exceptionally well? Where are we dominant in the marketplace? Where do we have high market share? Where have others attempted to compete with us and failed? If we asked members to play “word association” with us, when we say the “XYZ Association” what word or phrase would come immediately to mind? If we asked members to identify the one thing that we do that helps them most, what would they say? What are we not doing that we should be doing that expands on existing strength? Don’t allow your association to operate on “pseudo strength.” Make sure your strength is real.
Harrison Coerver (Road to Relevance: 5 Strategies for Competitive Associations (ASAE/Jossey-Bass Series))
The pillars of athletics are strength, stamina, flexibility, and sport-specific technique,” says health coach Ragen Chastain. “So if somebody is worried about mobility I would suggest they look at strength, stamina, and flexibility, then look at ways to improve those things and see what happens, rather than trying to manipulate body size.” As the holder of the Guinness World Record for heaviest woman ever to complete a marathon, Chastain knows that building those athletic capacities “is something that works at all sizes, whereas weight loss is something that works for almost no one.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
This aversion to the abstract and generalized, this love of living into the live individual fact is I think at the bottom of all the well-known, just now too well-known, Russian characteristics. The Russian has a horror of abstractions, while no Teuton, we are told, can resist a generalization. [...] The Slav has little love of the state, i.e. for man's collective order imposed on the individual, hence his incapacity for discipline, efficiency, collective progress. For him the wonder of the world is the individual not the class, the complexity of life not its simplification, least of all its abstraction.
Jane Ellen Harrison (Aspects, Aorists and the Classical Tripos)
There is a little dull ache for Oblomov and his dreams. Man does not live by bread alone, not even by the most wholesome bread punctually served. There is dream-stuff as well as bread-stuff. Sometimes man's strength is to sit still.
Jane Ellen Harrison (Aspects, Aorists and the Classical Tripos)
What an aspect denotes is a kind of internal line. It is often and truly said that imperfective is like a line, it has duration, continuity, extension so to speak in space, the perfective is like a dot, a moment, as soon as it is begun it is finished. And here it is instructive to note that in Russian a certain form of perfective expresses equally well the beginning and the end of an action, the two terminal points, the two ends [...] Other illustrations point the same way, the imperfective is the open hand, the perfective the clenched fist, the imperfective is a snow-field, the perfective a snow-ball. Always we find the same notion not of time order but internal time, the imperfective has internal time but not of time order, it may be past, present or future; the perfective has no internal time, no duration, and equally its time order past, present or future is indifferent.
Jane Ellen Harrison (Aspects, Aorists and the Classical Tripos)
Plutarch is by temperament, and perhaps also by the decadent time in which he lived, unable to see the good side of the religion of fear, unable to realize that in it was implicit a real truth, the consciousness that all is not well with the world, that there is such a thing as evil. Tinged with Orphism as he was, he took it by tis gentle side and never realized that it was this religion of fear, of consciousness of evil and sin and the need of purification, of which Orphism took hold and which it transformed to new issues. The cheerful religion of 'tendance' had in it no seed of spiritual development; by Plutarch's time, though he failed to see this, it had done its work for civilization.
Jane Ellen Harrison (Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion)
if you read the text closely, what she talks about is that sense that there is sheer nothingness on the other side of death. That would be a particularly acute trial for Thérèse, since her confidence in the reality of heaven had always been so strong and powerful.” Yet though she struggled, wept, and raged, she continued to believe—drawing from a deep well of trust filled from the springs of a lifelong friendship with God. As Kathryn Harrison writes in Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, Thérèse’s “dark night” may be the most compelling aspect of her life, the point where many lives intersect with hers. “At last she has taken her place among us,” writes Harrison, “not so much revealed herself as human as given birth to her naked self, plummeting to earth, wet and new and terrified. If we allow her to become a saint, if we believe in her, it’s because here, finally, she has achieved mortality.
James Martin (My Life with the Saints)
I look through the crowd of people and somehow see him right away. He looks up at the same time and smiles as soon as our eyes meet. “Hey,” I say when we meet. He stops just inches from me and takes me in his arms, dipping me back a bit for a kiss. “Hey to you too.” He runs his hands over my arms.  “What’s this?” “Oh, I got you something.” “You did?” “I got it on a whim. I saw it at a market I walked through and thought—well, just look at it and you’llknow.” He takes the shopping bag from me and opens it up, pulling out a wool fedora. Looking it over, I worry he won’t get it. “Is this an Indiana Jones hat?” he asks. “Yes!” “I like it.” He smiles and puts it on, and even Harrison Ford would be jealous. “But, uh, why?” I lean back, staring at Archer like he just asked what color the sky is. “You’re Dr. Jones. Please do not tell me no one has ever said ‘okey-dokey Dr. Jones’ to you.” “It’s surprising now that you’ve pointed it out, but no, they haven’t.” He pulls me in and kisses me again. “Wait, there’s an Indiana Jones market going on?” “No, just some weird guy at a pop-up selling hats. He told me I had nice feet.” Archer chuckles. “I guess you do, though, in that dress, it’s hard to look past your tits.” I shimmy and wiggle my eyebrows. “That’s the point of a pushup bra.” 
Emily Goodwin (Cheat Codes (Dawson Family, #1))
acknowledgements Huge thanks, obviously, to the superhuman Jane Austen for her books. Besides those masterpieces, I also reviewed (obsessively) the BBC 1995 production of Pride and Prejudice, as well as Emma (1996), Sense and Sensibility (1995), Persuasion (1995), and Patricia Rozema’s gorgeous revision of Mansfield Park (1999). I’m also indebted to Daniel Pool’s What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew for period information. The World of Jane Austen, by Nigel Nicholson, who also useful, and I scoured the Web site Jessamyn’s Regency Costume Companion for clothing information. Despite the research, I’d be surprised if I didn’t make mistakes, but they’re sure to be my fault, so please don’t blame my sources. Special thanks to the amazing Amanda Katz for her inspired editing, as well as to Nadia Cornier, Cordelia Brand, Ann Cannon, Rosi Hayes, and Mette Ivie Harrison. And can I just say again how much I love Bloomsbury? I do. Everyone there is so cool. And also quite attractive (though that hardly seems fair, does it?). And honey, you know that this Colin Firth thing isn’t really serious. You are my fantasy man and my real man. I need no other fella in all the world besides you. It’s just a girl thing, I swear.
Shannon Hale (Austenland (Austenland, #1))
Denny Cordell and Leon Russell ran a record company much the way Russell put together Joe Cocker’s Mad Dogs and Englishmen tour, which was basically a hippie commune on wheels. The Mad Dogs and Englishmen experience would stand as a kind of summit of seventies excess, with three drummers and a choir and endless hangers-on. But Russell’s and Cordell’s careers started well before that. Leon Russell had been a member of the Wrecking Crew, playing on Phil Spector records, Beach Boys and Byrds records, Monkees and Paul Revere and the Raiders records. He’d been a member of the Shindogs, the house band on television’s Shindig! He’d had his own hits and seen his songs become hits for other artists, from Gary Lewis and the Playboys to the Carpenters. When George Harrison organized the Bangladesh concert, he called Russell, who helped put the band together. At those shows, Russell stood out like the natural star he was. Denny
Warren Zanes (Petty: The Biography)
Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive. Cheaters
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
Tobias enters the room a moment later, followed by Tori and Harrison. I have been avoiding him. I haven’t spoken to him since that fight we had, before Marlene… “Hello, Tris,” Tobias says when I’m close enough to hear him. His voice is low, rough. It transports me to quiet places. “Hi,” I say in a tight little voice that does not belong to me. He sits next to me and puts his arm on the back of my chair, leaning close. I don’t stare back--I refuse to stare back. I stare back. Dark eyes--a peculiar shade of blue, somehow capable of shutting the rest of the cafeteria out, of comforting me and also of reminding me that we are farther away fro each other than I want us to be “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m all right?” I say. “No, I’m pretty sure you’re not all right.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to ask you not to make any decisions until we’ve talked about it.” It’s too late, I think. The decision’s made. “Until we’ve all talked about it, you mean, since it involves all of us,” says Uriah. “I don’t think anyone should turn themselves in.” “No one?” I say. “No!” Uriah scowls. “I think we should attack back.” “Yeah,” I say hollowly, “let’s provoke the woman who can force half of this compound to kill themselves. That sounds like a great idea.” I was too harsh. Uriah tips the contents of his bottle down his throat. He brings the bottle down on the table so hard I’m afraid it will shatter. “Don’t talk about it like that,” he says in a growl. “I’m sorry,” I say. “But you know I’m right. The best way to ensure that half our faction doesn’t die is to sacrifice one life.” I don’t know what I expected. Maybe that Uriah, who knows too well what will happen if one of us does not go, would volunteer himself. But he looks down. Unwilling. “Tori and Harrison and I decided to increase security. Hopefully if everyone is more aware of these attacks, we will be able to stop them,” Tobias says. “If it doesn’t work, then we will think of another solution. End of discussion. But no one is going to do anything yet. Okay?” He looks at me when he asks and raises his eyebrows. “Okay,” I say, not quite meeting his eyes.
Veronica Roth (Insurgent (Divergent, #2))
My gaze jerked to a blur falling from the ceiling. It was headed right for me! Gasping, I ducked. Nick clutched my arm. Thrown off balance, my heels dipped on the marble floor. Crying out, I went down. Sprawled with my legs every which way, my face burned as Jenks hovered before me, laughing. “Damn it all to hell!” I shouted. “Watch what you’re doing!” There was a collective gasp, and everyone looked at me. Jenks hid himself in my hair, his merry laughter ticking me off. Nick bent and took my elbow. “Sorry, Grandmum,” he said loudly. He gave everyone a sheepish look. “Grandmum can’t hear very well,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “the old bat.” He turned to me, his face serious but his brown eyes glinting. “We’re in the library now!” he shouted. “You have to be quiet!
Kim Harrison (Dead Witch Walking (The Hollows, #1))
If we always look in the same old places for the same old things with the same old people, we'll always have the same old ideas. Rendezvous with the unfamiliar.
Sam Harrison
was commanded, in a dream naturally, to begin the epitaphs of thirty-three friends without using grand words like love pity pride sacrifice doom honor heaven hell earth: 1. O you deliquescent flower 2. O you always loved long naps 3. O you road-kill Georgia possum 4. O you broken red lightbulb 5. O you mosquito smudge fire 6. O you pitiless girl missing a toe 7. O you big fellow in pale-blue shoes 8. O you poet without a book 9. O you lichen without tree or stone 10. O you lion without a throat 11. O you homeless scholar with dirty feet 12. O you jungle bird without a jungle 13. O you city with a single street 14. O you tiny sun without an earth 15. Forgive me for saying good-night quietly 16. Forgive me for never answering the phone 17. Forgive me for sending too much money 18. Pardon me for fishing during your funeral 19. Forgive me for thinking of your lovely ass 20. Pardon me for burning your last book 21. Forgive me for making love to your widow 22. Pardon me for never mentioning you 23. Forgive me for not knowing where you’re buried 24. O you forgotten famous person 25. O you great singer of banal songs 26. O you shrike in the darkest thicket 27. O you river with too many dams 28. O you orphaned vulture with no meat 29. O you who sucked a shotgun to orgasm 30. Forgive me for raising your ghost so often 31. Forgive me for naming a bird after you 32. Forgive me for keeping a nude photo of you 33. We’ll all see God but not with our eyes
Jim Harrison (The Shape of the Journey: New & Collected Poems)
women in a state of revolution.  I saw them getting up out of their beds and refusing the knife, refusing to be tied down, refusing to submit – whether they are in childbirth or when they were forty and having a hysterectomy for a uterus no longer considered useful.  Women’s health care will not improve until women reject the present system and begin instead to develop less destructive means of creating and maintaining a state of wellness.
Michelle Harrison (A Woman in Residence)
Yes, well, it’s not like I want to marry you,” he said.
Kim Harrison
to look forward to. The family were all present at the breakfast table, except Dulcie. Ralph, always a little crusty without his morning paper, observed Thea’s glance at the empty seat. ‘Your sister declines breakfast this morning,’ he said. ‘Happy Christmas!’ ‘Happy Christmas!’ Thea kissed Venetia, helped herself to kidneys and bacon from the sideboard, and went to her place. Sophie was beside her. She wore her grey, reserved for religious feasts of the highest order. Thea thought, not for the first time, what a handsome woman her aunt was, and how well the grey became her. But the wearing of the grey did not automatically infuse Sophie’s bosom with the festive spirit. ‘Dulcie should eat a proper breakfast. Especially as we shall be attending matins and luncheon will be late,’ she told them. ‘She often goes without . . .’ Thea smiled placatingly. ‘It doesn’t seem to bother her. She has a tiny appetite.’ ‘We don’t eat purely to gratify our appetites, Thea. We eat to sustain ourselves. It would be more responsible if Dulcie were to have some breakfast.’ Ralph made an unnecessarily loud clatter with his cup and saucer. ‘You seem to be implying that Dulcie will get the vapours in church and embarrass us all,’ he said, not looking at his sister, but fixing the dregs of his tea with a basilisk stare. ‘If so, let me reassure you. I do not breed the kind of woman who swoons. My daughters are tough. They are known for it. Be comforted.’ Venetia tried to catch her husband’s eye, but failed, since he was now biting into his toast with vampire-like ferocity. Instead, with the smooth and graceful change of gear that typified her, she remarked, ‘We mustn’t be too long, if we’re to give the servants their presents in good time before the others arrive. Sophie, the handkerchiefs are exquisite. You’re so clever in that way.’ ‘Thank you. I hope they will be acceptable.’ ‘I know they will be. Such beautiful work.’ Thea watched for a moment as her mother kindly and expertly soothed Sophie. Poor Maurice; as usual, it was he who suffered in these confrontations. Now he sat rigidly upright, but with downcast eyes, his hands clasping the edge of the table as though it were all that mattered in the world. She put her foot out and gave his shin
Sarah Harrison (The Flowers of the Field)
In C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters, senior demon Screwtape coaches a junior devil on how to infect a man’s relationship with others: “Keep his mind off the most elementary of duties by directing it to the most advanced and spiritual ones. Aggravate that most useful of human characteristics, the horror and neglect of the obvious.”2 He continues, “I have had patients of my own so well in hand that they could be turned at a moment’s notice from impassioned prayer for a wife’s or son’s ‘soul’ to beating or insulting the real wife or son without a qualm.
Tish Harrison Warren (Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life)
Genevieve…” He sat directly beside her, his flat abdomen exposed to the firelight, his expression suggesting he’d welcome eagles tearing at his flesh rather than endure her touch. “I wanted to sketch you without your shirt, but I was afraid to ask. I wanted to sketch you—” The look he gave her was rueful and tender. “You will be the death of me, woman.” He sounded resigned to his fate, and Jenny liked it when he called her woman in that exasperated, affectionate tone. She did not like it quite as well when he hoisted her bodily over his lap, so she sat facing him and his exposed, lacerated torso. “You will note the absence of any felines,” Elijah said, hands falling to his sides. “And yet, I must warn you, Genevieve, indulging your curiosity is still ill-advised.” He thought this was curiosity on her part, and some of it was, but not curiosity about what happened between women and men. Jenny’s curiosity was far more specific, and more dangerous than he knew: she wanted to know about Elijah Harrison, and about Elijah Harrison and Genevieve Windham. “My parents will be home in a few days, Elijah, possibly as soon as this weekend.” The notion made her lungs feel tight and the whisky roil in her belly. He trapped her hands and stopped her from tracing the muscles of his chest. “It’s all right. I understand. Explore to your heart’s content.” A pulse beat at the base of his throat. She touched two fingers to it. “It’s late, you don’t owe me—” He kissed her, a gentle, admonitory kiss, like Jock’s cautionary growl. She took his meaning: no more trying to coax enthusiasm from Elijah for her company, no more trying to inspire him to reassurances that he felt something special for her. He would permit her curiosity and nothing more. The
Grace Burrowes (Lady Jenny's Christmas Portrait (The Duke's Daughters, #5; Windham, #8))
As he forced himself to retreat from the world of his sketch, Elijah realized the boys were trying to start a squabble over some lower order of card—a three? “I-unts” became increasingly vocal, interspersed with “It’s not your turn,” until Elijah had to set his drawing aside and scoop William up in his arms. “What you want,” he informed the child, “is a stout tickling.” He scratched lightly at the boy’s round tummy, provoking peals of merriment. William’s laughter, surprisingly hearty coming from so small a body, sounded to Elijah exactly as Prudholm’s had when that worthy was still small enough to tease and tickle like this. “Elijah…” Jenny’s tone bore patience and a warning. Don’t get the little ones all wound up, Elijah. You’re the oldest, and they look to you for an example of proper decorum. He lifted the happy little fellow up over his head and slowly lowered him. “Enough, my lad. Time to go with nurse and have some bread and jam. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Or maybe some of your mama’s delicious stollen. Mmmm.” “I want some of Mama’s Christmas bread too,” Kit announced. “Come along, Aunt Jen. We’ll share.” Elijah stood, passed Sweet William off to his nurse, and took Aunt Jen by the hand. “I’m sure your aunt longs to accompany you, Kit, but she must stay here and help me clean up this awful mess.” Kit’s gaze darted to the scattering of cards on the rug. To a small child, a deck held thousands of cards, none of which little hands found easy to stack. Such a pity, that. “I’ll save you a piece of stollen, Aunt Jen.” Kit took his nurse’s hand and towed her toward the door. “’Bye, Aunt, ’bye, Mr. Harrison.” “Au revoir,” Elijah murmured.
Grace Burrowes (Lady Jenny's Christmas Portrait (The Duke's Daughters, #5; Windham, #8))
Lady Jenny, your turn.” She passed her sketch pad over to him, feeling a pang of sympathy for accused criminals as they stood in the dock. And yet, she’d asked for this. Gotten together all of her courage to ask for this one moment of artistic communion. “Well,” Mr. Harrison said, “isn’t he a handsome fellow? What do you think, ladies?” “You look like a papa,” Fleur observed. “Though our papa doesn’t sketch. He reads stories.” “And hates his ledgers,” Amanda added. “Is my hair that long in back?” “Yes,” Jenny said, because she’d drawn not only Elijah Harrison’s hands, but all of him, looking relaxed, elegant, and handsome, with Amanda crouched at his side, fascinated with what he created on the page. “I look…” He regarded the sketch in silence, while Jenny heard a coach-and-four rumbling toward her vulnerable heart. “I look… a bit tired, slightly rumpled, but quite at home. You are very quick, Lady Genevieve, and quite good.” Quite good. Like saying a baby was adorable, a young gentleman well-mannered. “The pose was simple,” Jenny said, “the lighting uncomplicated, and the subject…” “Yes?” He was one of those men built in perfect proportion. Antoine had spent an entire class wielding a tailor’s measure on Mr. Harrison’s body, comparing his proportions to the Apollo Belvedere, and scoffing at the “mistakes” inherent in Michelangelo’s David. Jenny wanted to snatch her drawing from his hand. “The subject is conducive to a pleasing image.” He passed the sketch pad back, but Jenny had the sense that in some way, some not entirely artistic way, she’d displeased him. The disappointment was survivable. Her art had been displeasing men since she’d first neglected her Bible verses to sketch her brothers. “You
Grace Burrowes (Lady Jenny's Christmas Portrait (The Duke's Daughters, #5; Windham, #8))
For God’s sake, you are as bad as Louisa.” Joseph took his gaze from Harrison’s fancy town coach—and what was a mere portraitist doing with such a rig?—and surveyed Moreland’s features. “I beg your pardon?” “Your affianced wife, Louisa. She’s incorrigible. The girl has loving family on every hand, every hand, and yet she must make her own way. Has always had to forge her own path and I suspect she’s met her match in you, so to speak.” The duke was trying to communicate something, while Joseph was trying to make out the crest on Harrison’s coach. “Your presence here is still not well advised, Your Grace. Hanging felonies will likely be committed.” Moreland thwacked a riding crop against gleaming field boots. “Listen to me, young man: You have no father, no brothers, no uncles, not even a damned third cousin to see you through this. If a prospective papa-by-marriage is all you’ve got, then by God, that’s what you’ll take.” There was something heartening and familiar in the way Moreland delivered a scold. Warmth, unexpected and welcome, bloomed in Joseph’s chest. “Your Grace, may I say first, thank you, and second, you are as bad as Louisa yourself.” “Where do you think she came by it? One wonders what you’ll have to say to Arthur if he ever bestirs his bones to leave his carriage.” The
Grace Burrowes (Lady Louisa's Christmas Knight (The Duke's Daughters, #3; Windham, #6))
The memory had borne its burial well, had returned to her intact, untarnished, fully dimensional, part of her living history, complete with visceral analogues—tastes, smells, sensations—actual voltage. It was a sightless memory, however, clothed in darkness, which she took to mean that the remembered events had taken place at night. Either that or the girl she had been was resolutely shut-eyed, had decided from the outset to curtail the offensive sensory input. Initially, the explosion within had been all pain and alarm, but later on she learned the trick of surrender, came to understand that...
A.S.A. Harrison
We’re in the ocean, and it’s night, and the waves are lifting us and throwing us down. Somewhere nearby, a boat is upside down, showing its white belly. We’re getting farther and farther from it. (How would a toddler know this? Well, he wouldn’t. These are “facts” I’ve layered on over time, like newspaper on a papier-mâché piñata.)
Daryl Gregory (Harrison Squared)
You’re very pregnant,” he told her. “And as you are well aware, I’ve read several books about pregnancy. I’ve decided to consider you somewhat insane until the baby is born.
Thea Harrison (Planet Dragos (Elder Races, #9.8))
She turned to Dragos. “I’m sorry I’m so crabby.” His eyes gleamed in a subtle smile. “You’re very pregnant,” he told her. “And as you are well aware, I’ve read several books about pregnancy. I’ve decided to consider you somewhat insane until the baby is born.
Thea Harrison (Planet Dragos (Elder Races, #9.8))
he had simply said that he knew how she would miss her gran, and that losing someone hurt, no matter how old they’d been, even if knowing they’d had a long life and lived it well eventually helped with the healing process.
Heather Graham (The Seance (Harrison Investigation, #5))
The universe can bring it. We'll deal with whatever may happen together.
Thea Harrison (Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6))
To penetrate deeper in the experience of Jesus Christ, it is required that you begin to abandon your whole existence, giving it up to God. Let us take the daily occurrences of life as an illustration. You must utterly believe that the circumstances of your life, that is, every minute of your life, as well as the whole course of your life—anything, yes, everything that happens—have all come to you by His will and by His permission. You must utterly believe that everything that has happened to you is from God and is exactly what you need.
Nick Harrison (His Victorious Indwelling: Daily Devotions for a Deeper Christian Life)
The universal tendency of our times is to “get together.” Isolation in church life is regarded as intolerable. Those who keep themselves separate for the sake of the truth are denounced as bigots. The well-being and prosperity of the Church is sought in the merger of church bodies even at the cost of truth. Sad to say, this destructive virus of unionism has infected also many Lutheran circles. This modern striving after external union despite spiritual disunion brings to one’s mind the words that God spoke to Israel by the prophet Isaiah: “Do not call conspiracy all that this people calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. But the Lord of Hosts, Him you shall honor as holy. Let Him be your fear, and let Him be your dread” [Isaiah 8:12–13].
Matthew C. Harrison (At Home in the House of My Fathers: Presidential Sermons, Essays, Letters, and Addresses from the Missouri Synod's Great Era of Unity and Growth)
It was late January in Draper, Utah, and as picturesque as the snow on the mountains was, it did not mix well with our modern lifestyle.
Mette Ivie Harrison (The Bishop's Wife (A Linda Wallheim Mystery))
We have to get you a haircut sometime today. You're starting to look like a sulky rock star." "Well, I am a rock star," he said, deadpan
Thea Harrison (Liam Takes Manhattan (Elder Races, #9.5))
She feels that in killing him off she killed off parts of herself as well. But at heart she knows that those parts perished long ago—the parts that were guileless and trusting, wholehearted and devout. Places where life once flowed, having lost their blood supply, became dead spots in her psychic tissue, succumbed to a form of necrosis that also invaded the thing that was neither her nor him but the ground between them, the relationship itself. You’d think that she, a psychologist, would have put a stop to it, found a way to save herself, to save the two of them, but the process was subtle, insidious, all but imperceptible. It happened the way your face changes as you age: Every day you look in the mirror and every day you fail to notice the difference. She
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
Infinity must be destroyed, Genevieve. You know what will happen if Project Infinity is initiated.” “Richard’s plans for her don’t have to be fulfilled,” my mother pleads. “Project Infinity can be stopped without sacrificing my daughter. Your granddaughter doesn’t have to die because your son lost his mind.” “Richard’s obsession with her is what sent him into madness,” seethes Nanny Theresa as she glares at Infinity. “Every breath she breathes is a reminder of everything I have lost.” “No,” my mother replies. “Richard’s mind was twisting into madness long before she was born. I chose to ignore the signs because I loved and admired him so much. I know you saw it, too, Theresa, and you turned a blind eye, just like I did, like we all did. That blindness cost you your life . . . and it cost my father his life as well.” My mother looks sadly over at Dr. Pierce. Nanny
S. Harrison (Infinity Reborn (The Infinity Trilogy #3))
Other people are not here to fulfill our needs or meet our expectations , nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive.
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
our needs or meet our expectations, nor will they always treat us well. Failure to accept this will generate feelings of anger and resentment. Peace of mind comes with taking people as they are and emphasizing the positive.
A.S.A. Harrison (The Silent Wife)
That’s not to say that the people who believe they have NCGS don’t legitimately have symptoms; they absolutely do. It’s just that gluten doesn’t seem to be the cause of those symptoms, whereas their beliefs about gluten do seem to play a role. “If somebody so strongly believes that something is going to be responsible for triggering their symptoms, then just that thought is enough sometimes,
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
As important as evolutionary theory was when it came to explaining how we all came to be on this planet, it was also used in overtly racist ways, to justify the white Anglo-European male domination of other cultures and genders that had been going on for centuries. Evolutionary theory became a “scientific” way of upholding the status quo. White, Northern European women were deemed to be a step down from men on the evolutionary ladder, followed by Southern Europeans (again with the women a step down from the men), then people of color from countries that early biologists and anthropologists considered “semi-civilized” or “barbaric,” and finally, at the bottom, Native Americans and Africans, whom they considered “savages.”21
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
As part of their process of creating this bogus evolutionary hierarchy, nineteenth-century scientists started cataloguing the physical traits and cultural norms they saw in different societies. They decided that fatness was a marker of “savagery” because it appeared more frequently in the people of color they observed, whereas thinness supposedly appeared more frequently in white people, men, and aristocrats.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
As feminist writer Naomi Wolf argues, the times in history when women have made the greatest political gains—getting the vote, gaining reproductive freedom, securing the right to work outside the home—have also been moments when standards for “ideal” beauty became significantly thinner and the pressure on women to adhere to those standards increased. Wolf explains that this serves both to distract women from their growing political power and to assuage the fears of people who don’t want the old patriarchal system to change—because if women are busy trying to shrink themselves, they won’t have the time or energy to shake things up. It’s hard to smash the patriarchy on an empty stomach, or with a head full of food and body concerns, and that’s exactly the point of diet culture.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
Noisy shuddering little commuter trains, debatable links: Shaw spent half a day joining one cross-country service to another; hard enough work just to arrive mid-afternoon on the brown edge of Wales. The town, with its undecodable medieval topography and commanding position above the River Severn, had done well out of sheep; then out of brewing; and finally out of coal. Now, like most of those old places, post-colonial, post-industrial and – in the sense that its past had now become its present – fully post-historical, it was curating a collection of original burgage plots, timber-framed heritage structures and quaintly squalid street names. It had been pleased with itself for 700 years.
M. John Harrison (The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again)
In my own lifetime I’ve seen the apotheosis of greed as a virtue, and brutal insensitivity become enlightened self interest. We may do as well as all but a few countries but that scarcely makes us a Christian nation except to those who bathe in patriotic gore out of habit and stupidity. Neither the emperor and consorts nor the citizenry is wearing the sacramental clothing it chooses to think it is wearing. A simple, private reading of the Gospels would tell them so.
Jim Harrison (Off to the Side: A Memoir)
I am still, relentlessly, reading Agee, and Flannery, too. Two of the writers who fired me to write post–Marine Corps, when I needed it, were Mr. McGuane and Mr. Harrison, and their books are always nearby, well thumbed. And Kawabata and James Salter, both of whom floor me.
Daniel Woodrell (Winter's Bone)
Ruth Berenici sat on her narrow bed, tall and gray and beautiful, tracing with her fingertips the scar that immobilized the right side of her head from beneath the eye down to that place where neck meets shoulder. It would be naïve to mistake John Truck's half of that ramshackle, enduring affair for pity. It might well have been the other way round.
M. John Harrison (The Centauri Device)
I, like Ana, was seduced by the soft licks of hope into believing that I could change the man I loved. Then flogged by whip-sharp reminders that I couldn’t. So, like Anastasia, I turned myself over to grief and eventually came to accept that the only person I can change is myself. At which point, I got the help I needed, learned how to cut the ties that bound me to guilt, and set myself free. Shit happens is life’s dominant; wishful thinkers, its submissive. And happy endings? Well, they don’t come until we accept the sad ones. And so, Anastasia, with the help of this club, I did.
Lisi Harrison (The Dirty Book Club)
For an adult, any second's physical status is a gray area, because nothing in your body is ever entirely right. When you're a child, the baseline feeling of wellness is so profound that any variation--a sunburn, an itch, gas--is intolerable, mind-boggling. Sometimes an adult gets a glimpse of this past paradise--swimming, a moment before orgasm, tasting food--but small damages coat mind and skin and muscle with a kind of indifferent hair shirt. To healthy, first-world children, the body is an absolute, and discomfort brings collapse.
Jamie Harrison
What is happening in France as its citizens embrace a socialist model of government is beginning to happen in America as well, particularly among the vast numbers of young people who are lining up to support political candidates who hold the same vision of regressive and redistributive government.
Darrell Harrison (Just Thinking: About the State)
The Washington Post reported in 1995 that Americans were “fatter than ever before,” and that one of the leading theories why was because “a decade of dieting mania has actually made people fatter.”56
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
Another extremely important factor that never gets discussed in relation to the “obesity epidemic” is dieting; as we’ll discuss in Chapter 3, intentional weight-loss efforts have been shown to cause long-term weight gain for up to two-thirds of the people who embark on them. So if the national average weight was creeping up over the years, it’s a good bet that dieting was at least partly responsible for the increase.
Christy Harrison (Anti-Diet: Reclaim Your Time, Money, Well-Being, and Happiness Through Intuitive Eating)
Enjoyment requires discernment. It can be a gift to wrap up in a blanket and lose myself in a TV show but we can also amuse ourselves to death. My pleasure in wine or tea or exercise is good in itself but it can become disordered. As we learn to practice enjoyment we need to learn the craft of discernment: How to enjoy rightly, to have, to read pleasure well. There is a symbiotic relationship, cross-training, if you will, between the pleasures we find in gathered worship and those in my tea cup, or in a warm blanket, or the smell of bread baking. Lewis reminds us that one must walk before one can run. We will not be able to adore God on the highest occasions if we have learned no habit of doing so on the lowest. At best our faith and reason will tell us that He is adorable but we shall not have found Him so. These tiny moments of beauty in our day train us in the habits of adoration and discernment, and the pleasure and sensuousness of our gathered worship teach us to look for and receive these small moments in our days, together they train us in the art of noticing and reveling in our God’s goodness and artistry. A few weeks ago I was walking to work, standing on the corner of tire and auto parts store, waiting to cross the street when I suddenly heard church bells begin to ring, loud and long. I froze, riveted. They were beautiful. A moment of transcendence right in the middle of the grimy street, glory next to the discount tire and auto parts. Liturgical worship has been referred to sometimes derisively as smells and bells because of the sensuous ways Christians have historically worshipped: Smells, the sweet and pungent smell of incense, and bells, like the one I heard in neighborhood which rang out from a catholic church. At my church we ring bells during the practice of our eucharist. The acolyte, the person often a child, assisting the priest, rings chimes when our pastor prepares the communion meal. There is nothing magic about these chimes, nothing superstitious, they’re just bells. We ring them in the eucharist liturgy as a way of saying, “pay attention.” They’re an alarm to rouse the congregation to jostle us to attention, telling us to take note, sit up, and lean forward, and notice Christ in our midst. We need this kind of embodied beauty, smells and bells, in our gathered worship, and we need it in our ordinary day to remind us to take notice of Christ right where we are. Dostoevsky wrote that “beauty will save the world.” This might strike us as mere hyperbole but as our culture increasingly rejects the idea and language of truth, the churches role as the harbinger of beauty is a powerful witness to the God of all beauty. Czeslaw Milosz wrote in his poem, “One more day,” “Though the good is weak, beauty is very strong.” And when people cease to believe there is good and evil, only beauty will call to them and save them so that they still know how to say, “this is true and that is false.” Being curators of beauty, pleasure, and delight is therefore and intrinsic part of our mission, a mission that recognizes the reality that truth is beautiful. These moments of loveliness, good tea, bare trees, and soft shadows, or church bells, in my dimness, they jolt me to attention and remind me that Christ is in our midst. His song of truth, sung by His people all over the world, echos down my ordinary street, spilling even into my living room.
Tish Harrison Warren (Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life)