Lea Quotes

Are you lost, Lea? This isn't where they're handing out the free pregnancy tests.

Bitch," Bliss hissed crossing her arms in front of her chest. Lea laughed louder, "Oh, one syllable word war. You don't even need a brain to play that game! Okay, my turn! Cunt!

Ce oameni excepţionali trec pe lângă noi, anonimi, şi noi admirăm prosteşte atâţia neghiobi, numai pentru că au vorbit de ei presa şi "opinia publică", numai pentru că le-a popularizat numele politica şi literatura.

Reading can be dangerous.

The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley. An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! (To A Mouse)

Detrás de este triste espectáculo de palabras, tiembla indeciblemente la esperanza de que me leas, de que no haya muerto del todo en tu memoria...

I realized then what had happened. She had turned us--all of us, except for Mouse--into great, gaunt, long-legged hounds. Wonderful!" Lea said, pirouetting upon one toe, laughing. "Come, children!" And she leapt off into the jungle, nimble and swift as a doe. A bunch of us dogs stood around for a moment, just sort of staring at one another. And Mouse said, in what sounded to me like perfectly understandable English, "That bitch.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers, For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.—Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

Upon arriving at the murder scene, they saw Deputy Sheriff Peewee Stubblefield pacing back and forth on the front walk. He stopped and smirked as Sheriff Roosevelt Baker braked the patrol car. He emitted a noise sounding more like a groan than a sigh.

Holy fellatio! You are standing there licking him up with your eyes! Do you freaking hear the old seventies porn music playing in your head?

Judge tenderly, if you must. There is usually a side you have not heard, a story you know nothing about, and a battle waged that you are not having to fight.” ― Traci Lea LaRussa

Uniqueness is what makes you the most beautiful.

Love this job," Sanya murmured. "Just love it." "I need to challenge more people to duels," Thomas said in agreement. "Men are pigs," Murphy said. "Amen," said Molly. Lea gave me a prim look and said, "I've not sacrificed a holy virgin in ages.

Judge tenderly, if you must. There is usually a side you have not heard, a story you know nothing about, and a battle waged that you are not having to fight.

Lea stood upon a fallen log ahead of us, staring ahead. Mouse walked up to her. Gggrrrr rawf arrrgggrrrrarrrr," I said. Mouse gave me an impatient glance, and somehow--I don't know if it was something in his body language or what--I became aware that he was telling me to sit down and shut up or he'd come over and make me. I sat down. Something in me really didn't like that idea, but when I looked around, I saw that everyone else had done it too, and that made me feel better. Mouse said, again in what sounded like perfectly clear English, "Funny. Now restore them." Lea turned to look at the big dog and said, "Do you dare to give me commands, hound?" Not your hound," Mouse said. I didn't know how he was doing it. His mouth wasn't moving or anything. "Restore them before I rip your ass off. Literally rip it off." The Leanansidhe tilted her head back and let out a low laugh. "You are far from your sources of power here, my dear demon." I live with a wizard. I cheat." He took a step toward her and his lips peeled up from his fangs in unmistakable hostility. "You want to restore them? Or do I kill you and get them back that way?" Lea narrowed her eyes. Then she said, "You're bluffing." One of the big dog's huge, clawed paws dug at the ground, as if bracing him for a leap, and his growl seemed to . . . I looked down and checked. It didn't seem to shake the ground. The ground was actually shaking for several feet in every direction of the dog. Motes of blue light began to fall from his jaws, thickly enough that it looked quite a bit like he was foaming at the mouth. "Try me." The Leanansidhe shook her head slowly. Then she said, "How did Dresden ever win you?" He didn't," Mouse said. "I won him.

I just want it to be fun and light the way it always is with us. I want him to at leas still be my friend. Especially now that we're at the end.

Sunt uneori stări care parcă îşi pierd durata. Nu ştii - sau nu-ţi aduci aminte - când au început, ce le-a dezlănţuit, cum se transformă. Şi totuşi, din beatitudinea aceea turbure se desprinde uneori un cuvânt, un strigăt, o melodie sau măcar o singură notă muzicală, care îţi rămâne necontenit prezentă, fără să te mire precaritatea sau chiar nesemnificaţia ei.

Esta sera mi venganza: Que un dia llegue a tus manos el libro de un poeta famoso y leas estas lineas que el autor escribio para ti y tu no lo sepas!

Some people are meant to be forever, like Lea and me. And other people come into your life for a reason— you help each other figure shit out and come to terms with complicated feelings that you can't process on your own.

Find something you’re passionate about and you know, do something.

But I've been in so much trouble. I threw an apple at Lea's face. I fought guards. I cheated on my trig exam." Aiden looked at me, frowning. "You cheated on your math exam?" "Uh, forget that. Anyway, wow, I'm just surprised.

Para kay Lea, maruming tingnan ang isang batang naka-make up at lipstick. Imbis na makaganda'y sinisira nito ang kalinisan ng isang batang mukha. Nilalagyan ng anyo ng kamunduhan at karanasan.

I dropped down on the cushion beside Lea and picked up the book she'd been reading. Turning the book over, my brows flew up as I got an eyeful of the hottie on the cover. "Wait. Is this book about aliens?" She snatched it back from me. "Yes." "Really?" "But they're hot aliens." She tapped on the guy's face with one thin finger. "And he can be my ET any day.

Lo que hacen los libros es desgraciarlo al hombre, créalo. No conozco un solo hombre feliz que lea. Y tengo amigos de todas las edades. Todos los individuos de existencia más o menos complicada que he conocido habían leído. Leído, desgraciadamente, mucho.

Stop, Lea. I don't get happily-ever afters. Those are just for fairytales and porn.

When I think of how many people in this world have it worse than I do, I realize just how blessed I really am... ... and I have to give thanks ...

Never stop reading, Luke. The words from the pages make me feel like I'm right there, like I can smell the sea and hear the wind. It's my one regret that I didn't read much over the years. How can you learn about all the things happening in the world if you don't read?

Put a damn shirt on and cover up your eighteen pack or whatever you got going on under that skin, you are making me drool.” “Lea, stop saying crap like that to me and stop gawking, awkward.” Lea smiled down at me, “You, sir are a bit easy on the eye, so therefore I shall stare at you. If you feel at all uncomfortable, I could always knock you over the head with something until you’re unconscious and take pictures.

But why should the daffodils and tulips Get all the praise and blessings? My rebirth goes unnoticed- I am worthy Of smiles and dazzled cries of worship.

Four sets of squats and I’ll be high on endorphins for at least a day, fantasizing about the strength of my thighs crushing the souls of a thousand men.

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us naught but grief an' pain For promised joy! Still thou art blest, compared wi' me! The present only toucheth thee:

And maybe that’s like life. You live for a moment—one single moment. And then you don’t matter. Because there are years of the past and years of the future, and we’re all simply one tiny blip in time—a surge of water waiting to leave our mark on the sand, only to have it washed away by the waves that come after us. And Lea, with her brief, tiny wave. She didn’t get to make a mark. If she’d had more time, she would have been a hurricane.

Lea--when a man climbs a glass mountain, it's not usually for the damn golden apple. It's for the person he gives the apple to.

In proving foresight may be vain: The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy!

Life isn't made of miracles, roses and cotton fucking candy, Lea.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,/ The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,/ The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,/ And leaves the world to darkness and to me./

By showing that you don't have to lose yourself, maybe someone else will feel some sort of comfort.

Grace rocked through the rhythm and stepped forward towards the audience and the edge of the stage, looking out over the crowd.People screamed louder. Strangely enough, I could hear Lea screaming, “That’s my best friend, bitches,” over everyone.

It's so important, so comforting, to have lampposts in this world who can light the way.

Miss Lea, it doesn't do to get attached to these secondary characters. It's not their story.

I need to know, Lea, I need to know what happened to the guy that made me feel things again…

We live in a world of self-deprecation, and while it’s healthy to make fun of ourselves from time to time, it bothers me when I see women of all ages belittling their accomplishments because they don’t want to appear boastful or overconfident. You don’t see a lot of guys out there underplaying their strengths or making light of what they’re good at, so why should women? While I get that there’s a fine line between owning your accomplishments and reciting every line of your résumé, there is absolutely no shame in being proud of what you’ve managed to achieve! Own it!

His eyes go soft and he takes a step toward me, touching my cheek. “I remember everything, Lea, every conversation, every touch, every kiss, every single thing about you, about us. I remember it all.

We must do as we're told," Ava reminded her. "We will honor your mother and follow her instructions." "Because she is your maker?" Lea asked, her heart breaking. Ava shook her head. "Because she is yours.

Solamente hay una manera de leer, que es huronear en bibliotecas y librerías, tomar libros que llamen la atención, leyendo solamente esos, echándolos a un lado cuando aburren, saltándose las partes pesadas y nunca, absolutamente nunca, leer algo por sentido del deber o porque forme parte de una moda o de un movimiento. Recuerde que el libro que le aburre cuando tiene veinte o treinta años, le abrirá perspectivas cuando llegue a los cuarenta o a los cincuenta años, o viceversa. No lea un libro que no sea para usted el momento oportuno.

The cloudless day is richer at its close; A golden glory settles on the lea; Soft, stealing shadows hint of cool repose To mellowing landscape, and to calming sea. And in that nobler, gentler, lovelier light, The soul to sweeter, loftier bliss inclines; Freed form the noonday glare, the favour’d sight Increasing grace in earth and sky divines. But ere the purest radiance crowns the green, Or fairest lustre fills th’ expectant grove, The twilight thickens, and the fleeting scene Leaves but a hallow’d memory of love!

Nobody should be entirely defined by one thing

My earliest poems appear almost skeletal to me now - it seems I've learned to add meat, muscle and a nice suit of clothes.

What happened to your face?" "What happened to yours?" I retorted. "You look like a damn Oompa Loompa. You should lay off the spray tanning, Lea.

My dear, you have a lot to learn about relationships if you think all problems can be solved by a single conversation.

I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

September was a thirty-days long goodbye to summer, to the season that left everybody both happy and weary of the warm, humid weather and the exhausting but thrilling adventures. It didn't feel like fresh air either, it made me suffocate. It was like the days would be dragging some kind of sickness, one that we knew wouldn't last, but made us uncomfortable anyway. The atmosphere felt dusty and stifling.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistly blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow; There oft, as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dreams.

If you were born knowing, and to be honest we all are, you will know how to find your way through the woodlands to the shimmering doors that are meant for you. They lead to the land made for you.

Telling stories is one of the greatest powers that we possess. It's like a dream you can fill with what you want. And the knight doesn't always have to save the princess; sometimes she saves herself.

And reading is a wonderful thing for the mind. I have not been many places in my life. But in books, I have traveled all over the world.

Life's too short to be serious".

If you believe in yourself you can make yourself whatever you want to be

...just because you love something doesn't mean it has to consume your days. It can just add richness and texture to your life.

The best stories are soul making. But stories we tell about ourselves, and even the harrowing ones told by others about us, can also be soul destroying. We have to choose what is good and true. Not what will destroy.

His thinking was a dusk of doubt and selfmistrust lit up at moments by the lightnings of intuition, but lightnings of so clear a splendour that in those moments the world perished about his feet as if it had been fireconsumed: and thereafter his tongue grew heavy and he met the eyes of others with unanswering eyes for he felt that the spirit of beauty had folded him round like a mantle and that in revery at leas he had been acquainted with nobility.

Nici nu ar fi numit iubire decat acel sentiment eroic ce se putea intalni in Franta lui Henric al III-lea si Bassompierre, sentiment care nu ceda in fata obstacolelor, ba, departe de asa ceva, dadea nastere unor lucruri marete.

he found himself pondering what it must be like not to belong to someone. What would it feel like to be “free”? It must not be all that good or Massa Lea, like most whites, wouldn’t hate free blacks so much. But then he remembered what a free black woman who had sold him some white lightning in Greensboro had told him once. “Every one us free show y’all plantation niggers livin’ proof dat jes’ bein’ a nigger don’ mean you have to be no slave. Yo’ massa don’ never want you thinkin’ nothin’ ’bout dat.” During

Where have the years gone, Ruby Rose? Sometimes I have to stop and think about how old I am. When I wake up in the morning, before I move this tired old body or look in the blasted mirror, I swear I'm still a young man. It just feels like yesterday. I don't know how it's gone so fast.

Întotdeauna moartea e pe lângă mine și trebuie să-mi pese de toți, înțelegi? Sunt responsabil pentru ei, fiind complice cu cel care le-a luat viața, până când îl arunc la zdup. Abia atunci mă simt absolvit de vină. Așa trebuie să gândești, Jolly! (Lt. Marlow)

Sé lo que cínica que eres y sé que probablemente vas a venir con alguna respuesta irritable cuando leas esto, pero la verdad es, que te estoy asechando porque realmente creo que me estoy enamorando de ti. Eres la primera chica que ha visto a través de mí. Eres la única chica que me cantó en la cara todas mis gilipolleces. Me pusiste en mi lugar, pero al mismo tiempo, me entiendes más que ninguna otra.

Am mai văzut fotografii de-ale ei de cînd era doar o adolescentă. Toate mi s-au părut cu neputinţă de suportat, ca şi cînd ai vrea să ţii mîna pe un fier înroşit. Nici nu ştia că exişti cînd şi le-a făcut, iar faptul că ai pierdut momente atît de preţioase din viaţa ei că a risipit atîta emoţie pentru altcineva decît pentru tine, chiar dacă pentru nimeni, este de neînţeles, de netrăit.

Life's short. Eat dessert first, work less and vacation MORE!!

He opened the back. “Well, at leas let me carry them to the door.” “Okay.” I walked with him to the doorway and took the bags from him, and then I reached in and took out the gum. I didn’t know what to say, so I handed it to him and his face lit up. A smile I remembered from the photos of him as a little boy appeared on his face. It wasn’t a smile the world ever caught a glimpse of in magazines. “I take it I was good.

My entire life, I thought I needed to hold on to love with an iron fist. It was a feeling I needed to trap, to smother, so it wouldn’t slip through my fingers. Little did I know, when you’re with the right person, being in love never feels like the bottom is going to fall out. It’s solid, stable, and indestructible.

What do you mean, you "Don't believe in homosexuality"? It's not like the Easter Bunny, your belief isn't necessary.

I want to hear the wind in the trees. Feel the sun warm my back. I want to see birds fly in a sky with no boundaries.

Punya muka cantik memang sudah berkah dari sananya. Tapi hati yang cantik harus diusahakan, dan tidak semua orang bisa melakukannya.

. loving myself isn’t realistic at all times. I’m allowed to feel self-conscious and sad at times, but also confident and happy at other times, as long as I’m accepting and respecting myself. And I want you on my team.

Her house looked cold from the foggy lea, And the square of each window a dull black blur Where showed no stir: Yes, her gloom within at the lack of me Seemed matching mine at the lack of her. The black squares grew to be squares of light As the eyeshade swathed the house and lawn, And viols gave tone; There was glee within. And I found that night The gloom of severance mine alone

I'll be writing as long as I can hold a pen in my curled, crimped arthritic hands and then I'll dictate it, if it comes to that. They'll have to pry my pen out of my cold, dead fingers - and even then, I'll fight 'em for it. Guaranteed.

The body remembers love, as rock remembers the heat and compression that formed it. It waits, buried under the earth, cold and longing, until it is freed. Then that same rock can skim across a river, travel an ocean, be carried across strange lands until it finds its way home.

Aku tidak suka makan ramen kalau dia sudah dingin. Jadi tidak perlu kujawab ya Bee. Biarkan kamu saja yang menilai, apakah aku sungguh-sungguh mencintaimu atau tidak. "Rendy ~ Her Footprints on His Heart

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea, Thy tribute wave deliver: No more by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever. Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, A rivulet then a river: Nowhere by thee my steps shall be For ever and for ever. But here will sigh thine alder tree And here thine aspen shiver; And here by thee will hum the bee, For ever and for ever. A thousand suns will stream on thee, A thousand moons will quiver; But not by thee my steps shall be, For ever and for ever.

Puck, darling.” Leanansidhe gave me a smile that was about as welcoming as a viper eyeing a mouse. “Why am I not surprised to see you here? It seems I just got rid of you, pet, and here you are again.” “That’s me.” I raised my chin. “The bad penny that always pops up. But you didn’t answer my question. What do you want, Lea?

Azi e ziua ta. Anii trecuți, filmam un clip pe care ți l-am trimis, un video în care îți spuneam cât îmi e de dor de tine și cât de mult aștept să vii. Doamne, Doamne le-a rânduit frumos, iar iarna asta, după 6 ani, te-am pupat și ți-am zis: Bă, te iubesc!

Quinn once told me a story.” He waits for me to moan a grievance at the mention of a story, and when I don’t, his tone sinks into deeper gravity. “Once, in the days of Old Earth, there were two pigeons who were greatly in love. In those days, they raised such animals to carry messages across great distances. These two were born in the same cage, raised by the same man, and sold on the same day to different men on the eve of a great war. “The pigeons suffered apart from each other, each incomplete without their lover. Far and wide their masters took them, and the pigeons feared they would never again find each other, for they began to see how vast the world was, and how terrible the things in it. For months and months, they carried messages for their masters, flying over battle lines, through the air over men who killed one another for land. When the war ended, the pigeons were set free by their masters. But neither knew where to go, neither knew what to do, so each flew home. And there they found each other again, as they were always destined to return home and find, instead of the past, their future.” He folds his hands gently, a teacher arriving at his point. “So do I feel lost? Always. When Lea died at the Institute …” His lips slip gently downward. “… I was in a dark woods, blind and lost as Dante before Virgil. But Quinn helped me. Her voice calling me out of misery. She became my home. As she puts it, ‘Home isn’t where you’re from, it’s where you find light when all grows dark.’ ” He grasps the top of my hand. “Find your home, Darrow. It may not be in the past. But find it, and you’ll never be lost again.

You can’t be the sun to all people without eventually burning out.

I'm sorry you feel so threatened by depictions of fictional men doing more than the bare minimum.

The heart can hold much joy and great sorrow at the same time. It's a mystery. And it's also true.

I don't want to be without you anymore. Somewhere in the middle of this fantasy world you created, I fell in love with you," Aria said. - Excerpt from Camp Jameson.

Jika ARMY dan pendengar musik BTS mengubah pandangannya, menyembuhkan luka hatinya, menjadikannya lebih bahagia meski itu hanya 0,001% saja, itu membuat keberadaan BTS lebih berarti.

Also, it's offensive and demeaning to be written off as crazy. Especially given the stigma of mental health. And maybe the real issue here is that some men can't confront their emotions. Instead of taking responsibility for your own behavior, it's easier to screw us, write us off as loons, and forget about us.

Hey, and the rock star is here too! How you doing, son?” “Hey, Mr. Rossi. Thanks for having me today. I’m doing great. How have you been?” I answered. He lowered his gaze and stepped closer to me. “Good, good, son. I’m sure glad that everything was settled and you didn’t have anything to do with hurting our Gracie. Lea told me that you were the one to help her when that son of a bitch got his hands on her. We’re forever in your debt, Shane. I knew you couldn’t have hurt her.” He slid in front of the dining room chair at the head of the table, and sat down, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. A serious expression crossed his features, “So did anybody get the son of a bitch, yet? Or am I going to have to make some calls…” Holy shit, it’s like the Godfather.

Toate mi s-au părut cu neputinţă de suportat, ca şi cînd ai vrea să ţii mîna pe un fier înroşit. Nici nu ştia că exişti cînd şi le-a făcut, iar faptul că ai pierdut momente atît de preţioase din viaţa ei că a risipit atîta emoţie pentru altcineva decît pentru tine, chiar dacă pentru nimeni, este de neînţeles, de netrăit.

Si estás leyendo esto, el aviso va dirigido a ti. Cada palabra que leas de esta letra pequeña inútil, es un segundo menos de vida para ti. ¿No tienes otras cosas que hacer? ¿Tu vida esta tan vacia que no se te ocurre otra forma de pasar estos momentos? ¿o te impresiona tanto la autoridad que concedes credito y respeto a todos los que dicen ostentarla? ¿lees todo lo que te dicen que leas? ¿Piensas todo lo que te dicen que pienses? ¿Compras todo lo que te dicen que necesistas? Sal de tu casa, Busca a alguien del sexo opuesto. Basta ya de tantas compras y masturbaciones. Deja tu trabajo. Empieza a luchar. Demuestra que estás vivo. Si no reivindicas tu humanidad te convertirás en una estadística. Estás avisado...

Ketika muda, berusaha meraih mimpi itu tidak mudah. Terkadang jatuh dan melukai diri sendiri. Namun, jika kita terus berusaha, berlari, dan berpegang pada harapan, masa muda seolah tidak akan berakhir. Karena muda atau tidak, hanya perkara angka dan usia. Sepanjang kita masih punya mimpi dan terus berupaya mewujudkannya, percayalah bahwa kita akan tetap muda selamanya.

Como lector y espectador que soy, he aprendido a desconfiar del mientras. Aunque lea un libro en vilo o esté encantado durante la visión de una película, ya no juzgo hasta el día siguiente a haberlos terminado. Las más de las veces, lo confieso -es difícil sustraerse a la educación o a la programación de la sociedad en que uno vive-, al día siguiente no dedico ni una evocación ni un pensamiento a aquello que disfruté en el mientras, y descubro que se me ha disipado hasta su atmósfera. De tarde en tarde, en cambio, me doy cuenta de que la música, la pintura, la novela o la película me llaman aún y me rondan, que mi cabeza no es capaz de zafarse de ese mundo en el que estuve inmerso con la involuntaria previsión de salir de él al instante, en cuanto cerrase el volumen o abandonara el museo o el cine.

In the past, one would have been arrested for wanting to leave. Now that nobody was stopping us from emigrating, we were no longer welcome on the other side. The only thing that had changed was the color of the police uniforms. We risked being arrested not in the name of our own government but in the name of other states, those same governments who had urged us to break free. The West had spent decades criticizing the East for its closed borders, funding campaigns to demand freedom of movement, condemning the immorality of states committed to restricting the right to exit. Our exiles used to be received as heroes. Now they were treated as criminals. Perhaps freedom of movement had never really mattered. It was easy to defend it when someone else was doing the dirty work of imprisonment. But what value does the right to exit have if there is no right to enter? Were borders and walls reprehensible only when they served to keep people in, as opposed to keeping them out? The border guards, the patrol boats, the detention and repression of immigrants that were pioneered in southern Europe for the first time in those years [1990s] would become standard practice over the coming decades. The West, initially unprepared for the arrival of thousands of people wanting a different future, would soon perfect a system for excluding the most vulnerable and attracting the more skilled, all the while defending borders to "protect our way of life." And yet, those who sought to emigrate did so because they were attracted to that way of life. Far from posing a threat to the system, they were its most ardent supporters.

Albert Graeme It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) And she would marry a Scottish knight, For Love will still be lord of all. Blithely they saw the rising sun When he shone fair on Carlisle wall; But they were sad ere day was done, Though Love was still the lord of all. Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall; Her brother gave but a flask of wine, For ire that Love was lord of all. For she had lands both meadow and lea, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, For he swore her death, ere he would see A Scottish knight the lord of all. That wine she had not tasted well (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell, For Love was still the lord of all! He pierced her brother to the heart, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, So perish all would true love part That Love may still be lord of all! And then he took the cross divine, Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall, And died for her sake in Palestine; So Love was still the lord of all. Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall) Pray for their souls who died for love, For Love shall still be lord of all! -- Canto 6

The snow grew deeper as we laboured down the hill. The land was a flat white pall, spread out like rumpled wool. Into the distance stretched the solid sea, sullen and murky beneath the ice. The sea will trick a man, seeming frozen and steadfast on the surface, but under the white crust, the black water gulps greedily at the breathing world above. In time, I knew, despite everything that had happened, the sun would rise and the light would glitter off the ice, like shards of glass. The world would glow.

A chill wind blew across the frozen water. There was no marker to show where the land ended and the sea began, except for the blocks of solid sea, where the water had frosted over, shifted, then frozen again. Tiny slabs of ice squatted, stacked like tombstones. We walked out onto the crusted water. The ice groaned under our feet, the rumble of an Arctic bear, warning as the dark water beneath shifted. We stopped. My heart beat in my throat. I waited for the crack of the ice, the roar of the water. The world held its breath.

Querido Lector, Soy una escritora y las letras son mi arma. Quiero lastimarte. Quiero que mis letras sean sal y quiero tirarlas en tu herida abierta. Quiero que mis palabras sean piezas irregulares de espejos en el que te puedas ver reflejado. Soy una sadica también conocida como una artista. Mis libros son un llamado para las mujeres que se han doblado por angustia, obligadas por el fastidio, cautivas de un pasado que nos las deja ir, vencedoras de un pasado que trató de matarlas. Verás, tengo una enfermedad, se llama naturaleza humana y estoy fascinada por ella. Así que, si decides leer Mud Vein, recuerda eso sobre mí. No estoy escribiendo para entretenerte, o para ganar dinero, o para tener mi libro apoyado cuidadosamente en un estante en Target. Escribo para explorar las oscuras esquinas de mí ser, y quiero que vengas conmigo. Soy un poco como tú. Creo que te verás en las páginas de Mud Vein. No te he dicho mucho sobre él a propósito. Quiero que vayas a ciegas. Quiero que te tropieces con un pensamiento, un sonido, una herida que creías especial para ti. Y darte cuenta de que yo también las he sentido, alguien que nunca has conocido. Si decides leer Mud Vein, por favor no te preguntes qué dice, pregúntate que significa. Y una vez que leas mis negras letras sobre una página blanca, envíame un email y dime tu interpretación. No puedo esperar para saber tus pensamientos.

Scuza "împrejurările mi-au fost potrivnice" nu e invocată decât de cei slabi şi nehotărâţi. Pentru o personalitate puternică (...) împrejurările sunt mai curând (...) o provocare, un imbold. (...) La urma urmei, împrejurările sunt mai întotdeauna grele. Şi fiecare (...) tot ceea ce vrea obţine, dar ceea ce vrea cu adevărat, nu ceea ce spune că i-ar plăcea să aibă; ceea ce se dobândeşte prin neprecupeţit sacrificiu, cu nedezminţită încăpăţânare, înfrângând lenea, nestăruind asupra scrupulelor. Împrejurările nu pot fi scuză decât pentru rataţi şi rataţii (...) sunt cei ce s-au dat bătuţi, n-au avut mesaj sau nu le-a fost destul de scump. (Ori nu l-au recepţionat destul de clar.) Mângâierea e alta, o exprimă zicala englezilor: totul nu e să învingi, totul e să lupţi până la capăt. Biruinţa nu-i obligatorie. Obligatorie e lupta.

Suprarealismul e de la Paris, delirul o fi bun la Zurich, la cafenea. Aici nu-i acolo. Aici se opreşte trenu-n gară, nu gara la tren. Aici e ţara lui Ion, a Fanarioţilor şi a lui Soarbe-Zeamă, aici Vlad Ţepeş i-a tras pe solii turci în ţeapă, nu le-a spus „trageţi întâi dumneavoastră, domnilor englezi", iar Petrache Carp i-a arătat lui Vodă Carol că porumbul se mănâncă cu mâna, aici e pe viaţă şi pe moarte, aici nu e decor sofisticat şi suprem de nebunatic, nu-s draperii şi delicii, nu-i paradis ori iad artificial, aici e ca la dugheană, ca la tejghea, ca la obor; ca la proces de clironomie; nu-i cu giuvaericale, e cu pietre, cu bolovani (şi dintr-o dată gândul mă poartă spre Brâncuşi, ţăran hotărât care-şi ciopleşte materialul cu gesturi mari de cosaş). Aici e scăldătoarea Vitezda: te arunci ori ba. Aici, acum, acum, acum. Aici te declari băiete, aici, pe loc, alegi.