Nola Quotes

Obviously he wants Nola to think he's an upstanding boyfriend, but the only girlfriend Loren Hale will ever treat well is his bottle of bourbon.

Times are not good here. The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become a study for archaeologists...but it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio.

She said, 'Goodbye, Reuben, a love for decency does not abide in you.' There is your divorced woman talking about decency. I told her, I said, 'Goodbye, Nola, I hope that little nail selling bastard will make you happy this time.

Even the sidewalks in ‪‎New Orleans‬ had personality.

Buddy ran down the road, turned into another street, and vanished as if he had never been there, like another ghost from New Orleans's past.

The morning sun in New Orleans felt like it was trying to make a point, convincing the old world to believe something new.

The only way he could truly stick out in New Orleans was if he were walking down the street on fire.

Dragonflies are reminders that we are light and we can reflect light in powerful ways if we choose to do so.

...the work of art itself is the artist's statement. The rest is up to the viewer" -Nola

When Nola was young, her mother used to tell her that books were like a giant neighborhood where every family was different, and every door was open.

No matter how deeply you come to know a place, you can keep coming back to know it more.

You wanna get dirty in NOLA, cupcake?

You can just go on in,” she’d tell Nola. “Try on a new life. See how it fits.

I’m okay. I’ve finally made a few new friends.” “I know,” she sighed. “It makes me miss you more,...

And she finally told Nola that she was so worried about whether she could love two children, about whether she could make room in her heart for as much love as she felt for Bobby. Wasn't it betraying Bobby, to love another child? And Nola told her what her sister Patricia had said, after having her second. Patricia said she felt like she'd grown a second heart.

He tells her that, when Nola first died, he thought he’d die himself, of the sorrow. He says he’d read that grief has a catabolic effect and he thought for sure it would take him right out, this immense and gnawing pain, that it would eat him alive from the inside out. But it didn’t. It took a long time for him to shift things around so that he could still love and honor Nola but also love and honor life, but it happened. And it will happen to her.

She didn’t even know what she’d do when she got back to New Orleans, but inside she felt a yearning to shove her hands in the dirt, to cling to the ground there, forever.

But there was something about Nola that negated my bullshit ability.

He tells her that, when Nola first died, he thought he’d die himself, of the sorrow.

Nola had read that when a female bat gives birth, she does it hanging upside down, catching the baby in her wings as it falls. Reality has plenty of miracles.

Kao uvek kad je uzbuđena, gospa Nola, posle čaše vode, otvori jedan prozor širom, i zagleda se u daljinu. - Tako, to dobro čini. Odmah sam jača, i ne bojim se više ničega. Tamo u polju, sve je samo i ostavljeno, pa zašto da i s čovekom ne bude tako...

Toulouse Street ran one way toward the Mississippi River. Jackson looked over [Imogene's] head into one of those famous New Orleans courtyards, full of lush foliage, mossy brick, secrets, and wonder.

Rough night?" Zay asked. "Oh, no. Glorious, thanks. Mum had me cross-checking data on solid Veiled all damn night.Fuckin' A, there better be a shot of whiskey at the end of this damn morning." "Nola said she'd have fresh coffee," I said. "Whiskey. I'll say it slow: whiiiskey.

He was becoming an effective human being. He had learned from his birth family how to snare rabbits, make stew, paint fingernails, glue wallpaper, conduct ceremonies, start outside fires in a driving rain, sew with a sewing machine, cut quilt squares, play Halo, gather, dry, and boil various medicine teas. He had learned from the old people how to move between worlds seen and unseen. Peter taught him how to use an ax, a chain saw, safely handle a .22, drive a riding lawn mower, drive a tractor, even a car. Nola taught him how to paint walls, keep animals, how to plant and grow things, how to fry meat, how to bake. Maggie taught him how to hide fear, fake pain, how to punch with a knuckle jutting. How to go for the eyes. How to hook your fingers in a person’s nose from behind and threaten to rip the nose off your face. He hadn’t done these things yet, and neither had Maggie, but she was always looking for a chance. When

I trust you," he said out loud after a while, whirling her so they didn't collide with another couple on the dance floor. "Even if we don't work out, I trust you to be careful with me. I'm a little more fragile than I look, I'm afraid.

Another shrug—the chiffon strap slid even lower. This, Shaelyn decided, was how her cousin attracted hoards of men like bees after nectar. Without even realizing it, Anna reeled them in like bait. Clearly she and her cousin did not share the same genes.

Oh fuck, oh man, my hand has gone all gross and clammy. He’s going to feel that. He’s going to think I’m so gross. Please, please, please, I begged whatever was divine and listening, stop my hand from sweating. Please, please, please. And don’t let me puke!

You don’t spend much. And you have a penis. Penises earn more income than vaginas.

People aren’t challenges. They aren’t broken toys to be fixed. Loving someone means loving their flaws, not loving the idea of trying to change them.

Wonder if good ole NOLA knows its precious Mardi Gras puked all over the Vegas Strip.

I’m falling so fast, so hard, Nola. I’m head over heels in love with you.

Hola Nola Massa, an incantation used by dark magicians in the Middle Ages to ensure the success of their endeavors.

Enormous oak trees towered over the boulevard, which boasted homes with fine woodwork, wraparound porches, and moss on the sidewalks. 'There’s nothing like a house in New Orleans. Would you look at those balconies and columns?' He rolled his window down to take in the sounds of life in New Orleans.

There’s something about you, Nola. I can’t put my finger on it, but you drive me crazy with desire and I have this need to show you off, to stake a claim and call you my girlfriend. Can I do that? Can I call you my girlfriend?

One day Nola came into school wearing a set of incredibly thick glasses, and though they did no favors to her appearance, Nola was ecstatic: she could see all kinds of things now, things she’d never known were even there. She’d had no idea trees were so pretty, she said. She could see every single leaf waving in the wind now. For some reason, this terrified young Mona. It wasn’t that Nola’s vision had changed: it was that her vision had changed without her even knowing it. There were all kinds of things happening around her that she’d never known about, that she was blind to. Though her experience of the world had seemed whole and certain to her, in truth it had been marred, filled with blind spots, and she’d had no idea.

edad tiene? ¿Sólo treinta años? ¡Y ya está forrado!». Hasta el portero de mi edificio, al que había visto leyéndolo entre apertura y apertura de puerta, me tuvo retenido un rato en el ascensor, al terminarlo, para confesarme su desazón: «Entonces ¿eso fue lo que le ocurrió a Nola Kellergan? Qué horror. ¿Dónde vamos a ir a parar, señor Goldman? ¿Dónde?». Mi libro apasionaba a la flor y nata de Nueva York; tras dos semanas en las librerías ya prometía llegar a ser el más vendido a lo largo y ancho del continente. Todo

Nola: Is there something you did to her? Maybe something you've forgotten? Something you didn't even think twice about? Anything? Kay: None of us ever spoke to her before she turned up dead. She was a nobody. Nola: Maybe that's what you did. No one wants to be a nobody.

Mais personne n’a jamais cherché à comprendre. Tout le monde a fait de grandes analyses de textes, en parlant d’allégories, de symboles et de figures de style dont je ne maîtrise même pas la portée. Alors que tout ce que j’avais fait, c’était écrire un livre sur Nola et moi.

¡Me encantan las gaviotas! —exclamó Nola—. Son mis pájaros preferidos. Quizás porque me gusta el mar, y allí donde hay gaviotas, hay mar. Es cierto: incluso cuando el horizonte se esconde detrás de los árboles, el vuelo de las gaviotas en el cielo nos recuerda que el mar está justo detrás

He says, "Nola once told me she wished people could be stars in the sky and look down on those that they loved. I always wished that could be so. Let's you and I pretend it's true, even if it isn't, would that be okay with you?" Madly nods, her throat tight. "And after I die, why, you look up in the sky for two stars, real close together. That will be Nola and me. Those stars will be so close together, it'll look like they are one, but they'll be two. Me, and then just to my right, Nola. Look up at us sometimes." "I will," Maddy says, "I promise. But you're not going anywhere yet.

There is a unique bond between the land and the people in the Crescent City. Everyone here came from somewhere else, the muddy brown current of life prying them loose from their homeland and sweeping them downstream, bumping and scraping, until they got caught by the horseshoe bend that is New Orleans. Not so much as a single pebble ‘came’ from New Orleans, any more than any of the people did. Every grain of sand, every rock, every drip of brown mud, and every single person walking, living and loving in the city is a refugee from somewhere else. But they made something unique, the people and the land, when they came together in that cohesive, magnetic, magical spot; this sediment of society made something that is not French, not Spanish, and incontrovertibly not American.

What I saw was her lookin’ like she’d like nothing more than to run you over with her car, and you lookin’ at her like she was a new Glock you wouldn’t mind getting your hands on.

You could die tomorrow, Alexis, why not enjoy today?

Go with what is. Use what happens.

Zombies were probably munching on my friends and family as we speak and I was contemplating orgasms in the apocalypse. But it couldn’t be helped.

I didn't think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you and your mom.

been thinking about what you said earlier, Nedra, and I agree with you. I don’t think this is terrorism or lady terrorism. Do you know what I think it is?” “I’m dying to know,” said Nedra Feldstein-Delaney. “I think it’s a response to terrorism. From the time we’re little girls, we’re taught to fear the bad man who might get us. We’re terrified of being raped, abused, even killed by the bad man, but the problem is, you can’t tell the good ones from the bad ones, so you have to be wary of them all. We’re told not to go out by ourselves late at night, not to dress a certain way, not to talk to male strangers, not to lead men on. We take self-defense classes, keep our doors locked, carry pepper spray and rape whistles. The fear of men is ingrained in us from girlhood. Isn’t that a form of terrorism?” “For God’s sake, Nola. You’re going to get us both fired,” said Nedra Feldstein-Delaney.

In the darkness, she wound herself into the blanket still more tightly. She was swaddled, confined, protected from herself--as in a very exclusively privately run mental hospital devoted solely to the care of one person: Nola. She fell asleep bothered only by the nagging thought that she would have to start all over in the morning. Existence whined in her head like a mosquito. Then she swatted it. Rode the tide of her comfort down into the earth.

The river breeze washed over him. He saw the magnificent views of the city and the bridge connecting Algiers Point to New Orleans. He marveled at the crescent shape of New Orleans as the ferry traveled nearly parallel to the curve in the Mississippi River.

Without warning, a smooth voice spoke next to her ear- a woman's voice with an American accent. "You're nothing but a skinny, awkward child, just as he described. He's visited me since the wedding, you know. He and I have laughed together over your juvenile infatuation with him. You bore him senseless." Pandora turned and found herself confronted by Mrs. Nola Black. The woman was breathtaking, her features creamy-skinned and flawless, her eyes deep and dark under brows so perfectly groomed and delineated, they looked like thin strips of velvet. Although Mrs. Black was approximately the same height as Pandora, her figure was a remarkable hourglass shape, with a waist so small one could have buckled a cat's collar around it. "That's nothing but bitchful thinking," Pandora said calmly. "He hasn't visited you, or he would have told me." Mrs. Black was clearly "picking for a fight," as Winterborne would have put it. "He'll never be faithful to you. Everyone knows you're a peculiar girl who tricked him into marriage. He appreciates novelty, to be sure, but it will wear off, and then he'll send you packing to some remote country house." Pandora was filled with a confusing mixture of feelings. Jealousy, because this woman had known Gabriel intimately, and had meant something to him... and antagonism, but also a stirring of pity, because there was something wounded in the biting darkness of her eyes. Behind the stunning façade, she was a savagely unhappy woman. "I'm sure you think that's what I should fear," Pandora said, "but I actually don't worry about that at all. I didn't trick him, by the way." She paused before adding, "I'll admit to being peculiar. But he seems to like that.

Seldom, according to the accounts, has any one left his native country to go into exile in such gloomy sorrow as Hannibal manifested when quitting the country of his foes. It is stated that he often looked back to the shores of Italy, accusing gods and men and even cursing himself for not having led his soldiers reeking with blood from the victorious field of Cannae straight to Rome. Scipio, he said, who whilst consul had never seen a Carthaginian in Italy, had dared to go to Africa, whereas he who had slain 100,000 men at Thrasymenus and at Cannae had wasted his strength round Casilinum and Cumae and Nola. Amid these accusations and regrets he was borne away from his long occupation of Italy.

The wild notes of tuba and trumpet and trombone rattled and hummed through the trees. In the first group of musicians, there were kids as young as fourteen playing the tuba and one kid who probably couldn’t drive banging a bass drum. They stomped together in rhythm to the music. Two ladies had dressed up in what looked like princess outfits. They wore white gloves and socks with tassels.

Every town has ‘THAT house’: the one that once held dark secrets. You know the house… the one no one will purchase? The one whose walls have seen blood? The one that even birds avoid, and the darkened windows resemble empty eye sockets? There are furtive, yet insistent, whispers about ‘that’ house, murmurs that perhaps the house is best left alone, lest the dark stain left upon that abode’s history seep into our own present-day.

Just as the Mediterranean separated France from the country Algiers, so did the Mississippi separate New Orleans proper from Algiers Point. The neighborhood had a strange mix. It looked seedier and more laid-back all at the same time. Many artists lived on the peninsula, with greenery everywhere and the most beautiful and exotic plants. The French influence was heavy in Algiers, as if the air above the water had carried as much ambience as it could across to the little neighborhood. There were more dilapidated buildings in the community, but Jackson and Buddy passed homes with completely manicured properties, too, and wild ferns growing out of baskets on the porches, as if they were a part of the architecture. Many of the buildings had rich, ornamental detail, wood trim hand-carved by craftsmen and artisans years ago. The community almost had the look of an ailing beach town on some forgotten coast.

We can’t change anything in the past. All we can do now is take comfort in each other, and the truth that we never need to go back to our dark places.

Afinal, são inúteis as tentativas de análise e de interpertação de nós mesmos. Há, em nós, abismos insondáveis, que jamais exploraremos, onde se recolhem, pelo tempo que lhes apraz, as combinações múltiplas, várias, tantas vezes contraditórias, que compõe as formas sucessivas do nosso espírito. Explicar-me-ei, dizendo que hoje dormimos arlequim, amanhã acordaremos pierô. As vestes ficam guardadas em qualquer guarda-roupa de nossas profundezas onde se amontoam peças de indumentárias que variam até o infinito. E alguém no-las troca sorrateiramente, durante o sono, de acordo com um critério que nos escapa. E esse alguém às vezes se diverte, pondo-nos de casaca e cuecas, ou pregando-nos um rabo de papel no jaquetão. O fato é que se frustra todo o esforço enorme que despendemos para impor certa disciplina, certa unidade, certa coerência. À sorrelfa, algum diabo malicioso inutliza todo o nosso trabalho, e amanhã seremos o que não queremos, e hoje somos o que ontem fôramos e não quiséramos ser mais.

It’d been a shitty month—

Why does my conscience sound like Cylan?

It’s hard to believe he’s the same hobo from the terrace. Mr. DuMont, not Ted Bundy.

New Orleans is a place that actually resembles no other city on the face of the earth, yet it recalls vague memories of a hundred cities.

I had a freaking gun strapped to my leg! And if, for some reason, that wasn’t hardcore enough, then surely the sword strapped to my back should’ve made that kid hesitate in approaching, grimy pink beads or no. Sure, this was NOLA, where anything goes, but still, my outfit should’ve at least panicked the

She walks away, and Arthur stares at the headstone. “Isn’t that something?” he asks Nola. “We have a family.

I love you, Lizzie Danvers. I love that you’re my adventure girl. I love that you dance like no one’s watching. I love that you’re the first up for a good time, but you’re just as content to watch the stars and wander through the cane fields. I love that you’re you, brown hair and all, makeup and all, stutter and all. I would never ask you to change, but I will ask you this: is there any way I can tempt you into forever?

I love you so much that I promise to give you the tips of my pizza for the rest of my life, so long as you promise me one thing.

Droplets of water clung to his arms, his neck, to the rugged stubble on his face. He looked like something out of a commercial for body soap. Meanwhile, she had a sneaking suspicion that she could currently pass for the Swamp Monster.

Too preoccupied with feeling up his abs, it wasn’t until she was up and over his bare shoulder, hanging upside down as her hair tangled in her face, that she realized he’d caught her again—

It was decaffeinated jazz he sent to WJZ via Western Union lines from the Hotel Pennsylvania. A distant echo of New Orleans, yet it spoke to listeners.” The ’20s style was lively, rich with saxophone and violin and well-sprinkled with novelty tunes. Lopez was instantly identified by his theme, Nola, given a dexterous workout on the Lopez keyboard. Whiteman had Gershwin: his Rhapsody in Blue concert at Aeolian Hall on Feb. 12, 1924, established his reputation. And though Whiteman was slow to find his way into radio, he was a major force in band music of the ’20s. George Olsen was a master of popular music: his 1925 recording Who was a bestseller, followed by such period hits as The Varsity Drag, Because My Baby Don’t Mean Maybe Now, and Doin’ the Raccoon, a testament to the national passion for fur coats.

O cômico é inconsciente. Como se utilizasse ao inverso o anel de Giges, ele se torna invisível a si mesmo ao tornar-se visível a todos. (...) Se Harpagon nos visse rir de sua avareza, não digo que se corrigisse, mas no-la exibiria menos, ou então no-la mostraria de outro modo. Podemos concluir desde já que nesse sentido sobretudo é que o riso "castiga os costumes". Obriga-nos a cuidar imediatamente de parecer o que deveríamos ser, o que um dia acabaremos por ser verdadeiramente.

On any other woman, the blue strapless party dress would have been elegant, and maybe scandalous with its plummeting neckline showing off oodles and oodles—and oodles and oodles and oodles dear Jesus those things are fantastic—of cleavage. On her, it looked cute. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sexy—she was sexy as hell—it was just that the golden curls, big eyes, and peach lipstick made her so adorably squishy that all he wanted to do was hug her.

I like how you are. So you have quirks. All the most interesting people do.

My ass has a side of ass with extra ass on top.

You know that thing about your body not being able to process pain in two places at once? Ice water can shock the system. It forces you to concentrate on something other than the panic. We’ll start with that and see if it helps.

I missed you guys,” I whispered and was surprised as a fat tear slid down my cheek and splattered on my chest. I hadn’t cried this much since high school. I was going to lose my street cred if I wasn’t careful.

The response was immediate; she went limp in his hands, a pile of pink, adorable gelatin he wanted to play with for hours.

His lips that had been flapping with such assholery a minute earlier were now against mine and my whole world had exploded.

Mental health is important. It’s as important as your physical health. What good is your computer if your processor is broken? I

The other Barringtons were lithe and graceful, but for her, carbohydrates were hips in larval form.

Are you engineering my bondage setup?” Maddy asked, incredulous, before she burst into delighted giggles. “Oh, dove. I’ve had men say a lot of things in this room, but never that and never quite like that. You’re Bill Nye–ing my sex rig.” Darren jerked up his head, his eyes wide. “I work in construction! Wood’s my thing!” “Well, it’s my thing, too, but I’m not sure we’re having the same conversation anymore.

He wasn’t always sure whether he was playing dom the way he should—if there even was a right way to do it, beyond the usual mantra of safe, sane, consensual—but this time he was confident he’d done his job well. It hadn’t felt like playing at all. He felt right at home. Maybe that’s the trick to it. Confidence. Confidence and cunnilingus. I can do that.

She wasn’t usually up for being topped, but when one is presented with a perfect piece of steak, one eats the steak one’s given, however it’s served, without complaint.

Maybe she got hit by a bus because she ruined your wedding. God works in mysterious ways. Come here, kitten.

someone had her back, whether he was right with her or not. If he was in the world, he was watching over her. Nola comes closer,

You can only do dat for so long before da attraction is too strong.

We cats were much more refined. We didn’t have owners. We had roommates.

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mess with that. Nola would never forgive him if

He wanted to be the guy standing in the dimness by their kids’ beds as Nola kissed them, and then he would kiss them, too. “Night,” he’d say. Why did that single word offer so much comfort? He guessed it was because it said so much. Home. Safety. The prospect of another day together as soon as morning came. He wanted to walk down the stairs to the living room afterward, and sit with Nola in the lamplight and talk.

I came into this world as Nola Maude Clayborn in 1892, in Perkinsville, in the northwest corner of Tennessee, a few miles west of Dyersburg. Pinned to the ground by a church spire at each end of the road that cut the town in half, Perkinsville was barely a wide space in the road. The houses were so far apart it was almost country. It was made up mostly of farmers and the businesses that served them.

Bon sang, Nola ! Pourquoi vouloir mourir ? — Ce n’est pas qu’on veuille mourir, dit Nola. C’est qu’on ne peut plus vivre.

Vesubio, a solo 23 km del pueblo natal de Bruno, Nola. Su eucaristía no era un mero símbolo. Y no era un placebo. Era un «elíxir» de «virtud divina», enriquecido con las «plantas», «encantos» y «drogas» de la bruja griega más notable de la Antigüedad, Circe.

What is this wretched living pain that I am living with? That roils within me like a caged beast that is slowly tearing free, one claw through my heart at a time?

The Feynman quip is not without a philosopher's tu quoque: "most scientists tend to understand little more about science than fish about hydrodynamics" (Lakatos 1978:62 n.2).

He turned around to see the bass drum popping and the horn sections pointing their instruments to the balconies and sending glorious notes to the rooftops.

A good crowd had formed along the sidewalk and the concrete ledge that bordered Louis Armstrong Park. The anticipation was dizzying...New Orleans had the big-boy parades and [Jackson & Billy] couldn't wait to attend a second line...

There was a warm breeze blowing in the car as they passed the mansions in the Garden District and they could smell the sweet aroma of the night-blooming jasmine. Soft light fell on the neutral ground along the streetcar tracks.

The only way he could truly stick out in New Orleans was if he were walking down the street on fire. A businessman in suit and tie would stick out more than the characters Jackson passed on those old streets.

You should have invited him in,” Nola’s sleepy voice said from across the room. “Trust me,” I said. “I tried.” “You make falling in love look hard,” she muttered as she rolled over. “Give it a whirl again one of these days,” I said. “Show me how easy it is.

Ty’s always refused to come party in NOLA, so we knew we’d have to bait-and-switch you down here.” “Wow,

The first time I see him is during lunch. As I’m waiting in the cafeteria food line, Alex is two people in front of me. This girl, Nola Linn, is in between us. And she’s not moving down the line fast enough. Alex’s jeans are faded and torn at the knee. His hair is falling into his eyes and I’m itching to push it back. If Nola wouldn’t be so wishy-washy about her choice of fruit… Alex caught me checking him out. I quickly focus my attention on the soup of the day. Minestrone. “Want a cup or bowl, hon?” Mary, the lunch lady, asks me. “Bowl,” I say, pretending to be totally interested in the way she ladles the soup into the bowl. After she hands it to me, I hurry past Nola and stand by the cashier. Right behind Alex. As if he knows I’m stalking him, he turns around. His eyes pierce mine and for a moment I feel as if the rest of the world is closed out and it’s just the two of us. The urge to jump into his arms and feel the warmth of them surrounding me is so powerful, I wonder if it’s medically possible to be addicted to another human being. I clear my throat. “Your turn,” I say, motioning to the cashier. He moves forward with his tray, a slice of pizza on it. “I’ll pay for hers, too,” he says, pointing at me. The cashier waves her finger at me, “What’d you get? Bowl of minestrone?” “Yeah, but…Alex, don’t pay for me.” “Don’t worry. I can afford a bowl of soup,” he says defensively, handing over three dollars. Colin barges into the line and stands next to me. “Move along. Get your own girlfriend to stare at,” he snaps at Alex, then shoos him off. I pray Alex doesn’t retaliate by telling Colin we kissed. Everyone in line is watching us. I can feel their stares on the back of my neck. Alex takes his change from the cashier and without a backward glance heads for the outside courtyard off the cafeteria where he usually sits. I feel so selfish, because I want the best of both worlds. I want to keep the image I’ve worked so hard to create. That image includes Colin. I also want Alex. I can’t stop thinking about having him hold me again and kiss me until I’m breathless. Colin says to the cashier, “I’ll pay for hers and mine.” The cashier looks at me in confusion. “Didn’t that other boy pay for you already?” Colin waits for me to correct her. When I don’t, he gives me a disgusted look and stomps out of the cafeteria.