Quint Quotes

Come up fish. Come to Quint.

A quick, sharp laugh from Quint broke the thread of tension. "What a pair of assholes," he said. "I seen that coming since you came aboard this morning.

you sound like Linius, may Sky rest his soul, despite all its faults and failings he loved the place and did his best to serve both academics and undertowns alike...' Wind Jackal to Quint

Fact: She was alone with Quint in his bedchamber. Fact: He was talking of theorems, secret messages, and mathematical probability. Fact: She was incredibly, distractingly aroused.

If Quint—on your remonstrance at the time you speak of—was a base menial, one of the things Miles said to you, I find myself guessing, was that you were another.

Careful, Quint. She goes from cute to carnivorous in 2.5 seconds.

So the problem with quints is that they are bloody powerful things, and the sudden influx of magic unfortunately doesn’t come with a sudden influx of brains.

Suppose you fell over with this fish. Is there anything you could do? Sure. Pray. It'd be like falling out of an airplane without a parachute and hoping you'll land in a haystack. The only thing that'd save you would be God, and since He pushed you overboard in the first place, I wouldn't give a nickel for your chances.

Quint holds up his hand. “Dirk, you have no reason to be angry at me. You clearly have some sort of chip on your shoulder, and—” “Wait, he does?” I look at Dirk. “Is it a chocolate chip?” Quint

Have you ever noticed that folks will say ‘Look, he has his mama’s eyes’ or ‘his daddy’s nose,’ but they never say ‘We’re so proud! Look! He’s hung just like grampa’?” - Zach McKnight

What you feel is what you feel – that’s what we woodtrolls say.’ She patted Maris on the shoulder. ‘And knowing how you feel is the first step to changing how you feel,’ she said. ‘If you really want to.’ Maris

It’s gross and weird,” Quint admits. “But there’s free Oreo crumble!

What? I know you guys are talking with that nonverbal man-speak crap. I’m standing right here. It’s rude. I hate when people do that.” Corrie’s voice was a mixture of pissed off and sad at the same time. Quint

He awoke at five, to the whine of the television test pattern, turned off the set, and listened for the wind. It had moderated and seemed to be coming from a different quarter, but it still carried rain. He debated calling Quint, but thought, no, no use: we’ll be going even if this blows up into a gale. He went upstairs and quietly dressed. Before he left the bedroom, he looked at Ellen, who had a frown on her sleeping face. “I do love you, you know,” he whispered, and he kissed her brow. He started down the stairs and then, impulsively, went and looked in the boys’ bedrooms. They were all asleep.

Ignoring the zombies, Quint and Dirk spot the High-Strike—leading to the most lopsided game ever. . . .

Where did you get that assault weapon?" "Assault weapon?" Zach turned his head to look at her. "Well, lookey there. You're cute when you blush." Maddie's face grew hotter, but at least he'd mistaken the reason for her embarrassment. Zach turned his face back toward the ceiling. "That there's standard equipment, darlin'." "There's nothing standard about that." "I didn't hear you complaining." "Of course not. You sprang it on me when I was mentally incompetent." Zach laughed out loud. "That you were, sweet Maddie that you were." Maddie and Zach

He had proved nothing, he had made no viable gesture of atonement, and he knew now that he probably never would. If he could have talked with Quint's ghost now he could only have said: "I'm sorry; there's nothing more I can do." And Quint, he knew, would have said: "Right; you're absolutely right about that. (...)" How then could he feel so good. What possible right did he have to be at peace with himself? He didn't know. All he knew that day (...) all he knew with any clarity was that he was nineteen years old, that the war was over, and that he was alive.

Je parle espagnol à Dieu, italien aux femmes, français aux hommes et allemand à mon cheval.

It's ironic, right? The economy is great, but it's always a struggle for the little guy.

As the modern critic David Quint has summed it up, Montaigne would probably interpret the message for humanity in Christ’s crucifixion as being “Don’t crucify people.

Christ, when she used words such as "validity" and "data", Quint wanted to do unspeakably improper things to her.

Ne me contemplez pas avec cet air de poule qui viendrait de pondre un coucou suisse.

Quint’s shoulders loosened a fraction. “So you’re just leaving this job, not us.

And Ŗeżżőcħ came like a summer storm, hard and fast, wielding magic more powerful than we had ever known. In his sleep, his hunger had grown strong.” “I know the feeling,” I say. “Sometimes when I wake up, I’m just craving a Baby Ruth, like—” “Jack!” Quint whispers. “Oh. Right. Story time.” Bardle chuckles. “Ŗeżżőcħ did not crave ‘Baby Ruths.’ Ŗeżżőcħ craved death. He is the destructor.” I

A volte mi sento come se fossi destinato a essere sempre dietro le quinte quando arriva una scena madre. Come se Dio mi avesse scelto come vittima di un cosmico tiro mancino, assegnandomi poco più di una comparsata nella mia vita. Altre volte mi sento come se non avessi altro role che quello dello spettatore di storie di altra gente e per di più fossi condannato a lasciare il mio posto sempre al momento cruciale, e andare in cucina a farmi una tazza di tea proprio quando arriva la resa dei conti

«Dev’essere triste tornare a casa e non trovarci mai nessuno», mi ripetevano in confidenza le coppie che conoscevo, come se la tristezza fosse un fatto di sottrazione numerica, un disagio che l’avere qualcuno per casa avrebbe potuto scongiurare. Ho provato per un po’ a smentire queste letture commiseranti, ma nessuno aveva davvero interesse a sentirsi dire che a me andava bene cosí. Sono troppo destabilizzanti gli appagamenti raggiunti fuori dalla norma, oltre i confini di quei patti taciti su cui si reggono molte relazioni che amiamo definire solide. Le varianti di struttura non sono gradite. Ogni volta che ho detto che ero felice così, ho sempre scortonegli occhi altrui il bisogno di non crederci. Al contrario, ogni volta che ho concesso la falsa conferma della mia incompiutezza li ho visti rassicurati di aver fatto bene a considerarsi per tutta la vita la metà di qualcun altro e tenere insieme sotto lo stesso tetto, dentro lo stesso letto, solitudini e patrimoni a qualunque costo. Per questo io non insistevo. Non ho mai provato il bisogno di prendere a calci le quinte dei teatri altrui quando non era necessario. Oltretutto è rischioso: nessuno può sapere quanto rumore fa una certezza che si rompe.

Look, Mr. Cop. I’m going easy on you because I don’t think you’re trying to be discriminatory or a jerk about this. I’m normal. I’m as normal as you. I cook, I clean, I talk on the phone, I even use a computer. I can read, I can tell time, I can pay for my own stuff with real money, I dress myself every morning and manage to color coordinate my clothes with the help of Braille labels. I can play specialized board games and figure out what socks go with which, except if the dryer monster eats them like it always seems to somehow. I’m just like you, Quint. I eat the same, brush my teeth the same, make love the same, orgasm the same, cry, smile, and get pissed…just like you.” “Will

Look honey, I ain’t buying what you’re selling so get out!” “You prefer to be lying here or in the morgue?! Things got outta hand last night but at least you’re alive! If we wanted you dead, don’t you think I would have drained you by now, or dragged you outta here! We are trying to help you!” “And I’m sure Jaws was just trying to help Quint! Get out!

The image of Mac standing in front of a selection of penises, like a witness picking a criminal out of a line-up, was more than Rachel could bear with a straight face.

Desde el ligero sobresalto, aquella noche en la planta alta, sufrido ante la presencia de la mujer al pie de la escalera, nada había visto dentro ni fuera de la casa que mejor hubiera sido no ver. Había muchos recodos donde esperaba tropezar con Quint y muchas situaciones en que, por su siniestra naturaleza, hubieran debido favorecer las apariciones de la señorita Jessel.

There were exactly states of the air, conditions of sound and of stillness, unspeakable impressions of the KIND of ministering moment, that brought back to me, long enough to catch it, the feeling of the medium in which, that June evening out of doors, I had had my first sight of Quint, and in which, too, at those other instants, I had, after seeing him through the window, looked for him in vain in the circle of shrubbery.

L'amava moltissimo, anche se forse il suo sentimento era più ideale e fantastico di quello di Tess, profondo e appassionato. Angel non supponeva, quando fu condannato, così credette, ad una vita bucolica anziché intellettuale, di trovare dietro le quinte un fascino come quello osservato in quest'idillica creatura. Si parla spesso di naturalezza; ma lui non sapeva in che modo questa veramente colpisse, sino a che non era venuto lì.

The ocean flows of online information are all streaming together, and the access tools are becoming absolutely critical. If you don’t index it, it doesn’t exist. It’s out there but you can’t find it, so it might as well not be there.

Too Loud a Solitude, by Bohumil Hrabel Train Dreams, by Denis Johnson Sula, by Toni Morrison The Shadow-Line, by Joseph Conrad The All of It, by Jeannette Haine Winter in the Blood, by James Welch Swimmer in the Secret Sea, by William Kotzwinkle The Blue Flower, by Penelope Fitzgerald First Love, by Ivan Turgenev Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf Waiting for the Barbarians, by J. M. Coetzee Fire on the Mountain, by Anita Desai Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada

Before 1975, if you knew the name Howard Sackler it was because he was the author behind the 1969 Broadway play The Great White Hope, which won Sackler the Tony and New York Drama Critics Circle award as the year’s Best Play as well as the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. A friend of film producer David Brown, Sackler accepted the offer to do a re-write on Jaws author Peter Benchley’s script for the film version of his novel. Sackler’s main contribution to the story was the back story that the shark fisherman, Quint, derived his hatred for sharks from having survived the sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis in July of 1945 (in the film, Quint errantly states the date as “June the 29th, 1945”).

Vedi qualcuno, anzi, non lo vedi realmente, è dietro le quinte. Oppure lo noti, ma non scatta nulla, non ti «prende», e prima ancora che tu sia consapevole della sua presenza, o che qualcosa ti turba, le sei settimane che ti sono state offerte sono quasi passate e lui è partito o poco ci manca e ti affanni per accettare una cosa che, a tua insaputa, ti cresce sotto il naso da giorni e presenta tutti i sintomi di ciò che puoi solo chiamare Lo voglio. Come ho fatto a non accorgermene? ti domandi. So riconoscere il desiderio quando lo vedo… eppure stavolta te lo sei fatto scappare. Cercavo il sorrisetto malizioso che d’un tratto gli illuminava il viso ogni volta che mi leggeva nel pensiero, ma l’unica cosa che volevo davvero era pelle, solo pelle.

Do you always play this hard to get?" "I wish I could afford to play hard to get. You women have wised up a lot in the last decade or so. None of my old lines work anymore." "You mean 'wanna get naked' doesn't have women falling all over you?" Mac peered at her over the top of the menu. "Hey, that's my best one." "I'd hate to hear your worst." Yeah, you would. He set the menu down and leaned in as though about to say something confidential. "I crash and burn a lot." Mac and Rachel.

Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Svabo The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami Books for Banned Love Sea of Poppies, by Amitav Ghosh The English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje Euphoria, by Lily King The Red and the Black, by Stendahl Luster, by Raven Leilani Asymmetry, by Lisa Halliday All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides The Vixen, by Francine Prose Legends of the Fall, by Jim Harrison The Winter Soldier, by Daniel Mason

Lastly, he hit on the idea of transferring the observer's position into the centre of the world, and to examine the variations in angular velocity, regardless of distance, as seen from the sun. And lo! it worked. The results were even more gratifying than he had expected. Saturn, for instance, when farthest away from the sun, in its aphelion, moves at the rate of 106 seconds arc per day; when closest to the sun, and its speed is at maximum, at 135 seconds arc per day. The ratio between the two extreme velocities is 106 to 135, which only differs by two seconds from 4:5. - the major third. With similar, very small deviations (which were all perfectly explained away at the end), the ratio of Jupiter's slowest to its fastest motion is a minor third, Mars' the quint, and so forth. So much for each planet considered by itself. But when he compared the extreme angular velocities of pairs of different planets, the results were even marvellous: "At the first glance the Sun of Harmony broke in all its clarity through the clouds." The extreme values yield in fact the intervals of the complete scale. But not enough: if we start with the outermost planet, Saturn, in the aphelion, the scale will be in the major key; if we start with Saturn in the perihelion, it will be in the minor key. Lastly, if several planets are simultaneously at the extreme points of their respective orbits, the result is a motet where Saturn and Jupiter represent the bass, Mars the tenor, Earth and Venus the contralto, Mercury the soprano. On some occasions all six can be heard together:

The Ouellet Quints.

Ze ziet me niet eens staan,' klaagde hij al kauwend. 'Misschien moet je eens iets zwaars naar haar hoofd gooien,' opperde ik. 'Dan kijkt ze meestal wel.' Quint dacht er even over na. Toen gooide hij de rest van het brood op zijn bord, stond op en pakte zijn stevige aardewerken kroes halfvol bier. 'Het is het proberen waard,' mompelde hij.

we’ve seen Quint without pants

必須先檢視自己的屬靈油箱裡有多少油。你也許會問自己：「要怎麼做？」我會先回答說：「每個人都不一樣，你需要自己查考聖經，並向神在你生命中所擺放的屬靈之人尋求意見，來幫助自己。」接著我會回答：「如果要知道自己現在正處於什麼景況，你必須先知道你真正想要的是什麼。」

Fire on the Mountain, by Anita Desai Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Szabó The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami

The All of It, by Jeannette Haien Winter in the Blood, by James Welch Swimmer in the Secret Sea, by William Kotzwinkle The Blue Flower, by Penelope Fitzgerald First Love, by Ivan Turgenev Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf Waiting for the Barbarians, by J. M. Coetzee Fire on the Mountain, by Anita Desai Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine

The sooner you realize you’re trading against other traders and not just the stocks or the market, the better off you will be.” Quint Tatro

SNATCH!

A little pissiness can sometimes light a whole dynamite stick of courage.

Don’t forget . . . We’re here because you guys are heroes. You two dudes better not let me down. ’Cause if you do, I’m gonna look so dumb.

Very slowly, I stalk closer toward the large window, and all of a sudden, I see a small flicker of orange light in the distance. I quint my eyes as I move closer to the glass, and then two eyes crash with mine. “Ah!” I screech as I fall backward onto the ground. “Oh, God. Oh, no!” It’s him. I crawl backward on my hands, my shoulder busting against a piece of wooden furniture before I knock over a lamp. He’s closer to the window now, and I see that he’s smoking a cigarette, blowing out the smoke against the glass as he watches me. Fog forms on the window from his hot breath, and he writes something in it. A warning. Run. But I’m frozen in place on the ground like a fucking idiot. And when my eyes rove down as I see something move, I realize that his hand is down his pants. Oh my God. He’s stroking himself!

The best way to challenge shame is with joy.

Quint followed them to the carriage. Bound and gagged, lying on one of the seats was Wanisa Hannoko. “You know what the something bad is?” Feodor said with an evil grin. Sandy joined the Dankos, and they left the courtyard. Quint looked at the carriage, feeling furious and helpless at the same time.

Denny gave me a strange look when I showed up in the band room, but I have always believed playing drums is no excuse not to look cute. Besides, if McDaniel shows up, I want to look my best. Oh, crap, I should be paying attention. “Did you hear anything I said?” I answer honestly, “No.” Denny runs a hand through his spiked hair and asks, “Do you really want to learn how to march?” “I have to learn to march if I want to be a part of the section, right?” “Right.” “Then, it doesn’t really matter if I want to do anything. It’s something I have to do.” Denny looks confused and partially like he’s completely regretting the decision to add me to his section, but proceeds to teach me drill for the better part of two hours. While we run through the steps, I look longingly over at my quints, which I have secretly decided to name Quincy.

D’aron the Daring, Derring, Derring-do, stealing base, christened D’aron Little May Davenport, DD to Nana, initials smothered in Southern-fried kisses, dat Wigga D who like Jay Z aw-ite, who’s down, Scots-Irish it is, D’aron because you’re brave says Dad, No, D’aron because you’re daddy’s daddy was David and then there was mines who was named Aaron, Doo-doo after cousin Quint blew thirty-six months in vo-tech on a straight-arm bid and they cruised out to Little Gorge glugging Green Grenades and read three years’ worth of birthday cards, Little Mays when he hit those three homers in the Pee Wee playoff, Dookie according to his aunt Boo (spiteful she was, misery indeed loves company), Mr. Hanky when they discovered he TIVOed ‘Battlestar Galactica,’ Faggot when he hugged John Meer in third grade, Faggot again when he drew hearts on everyone’s Valentine’s Day cards in fourth grade, Dim Dong-Dong when he undressed in the wrong dressing room because he daren’t venture into the dark end of the gym, Philadelphia Freedom when he was caught clicking heels to that song (Tony thought he was clever with that one), Mr. Davenport when he won the school’s debate contest in eighth grade, Faggot again when he won the school’s debate contest in eighth grade, Faggot again more times than he cared to remember, especially the summer he returned from Chicago sporting a new Midwest accent, harder on the vowels and consonants alike, but sociable, played well with others that accent did, Faggot again when he cried at the end of ‘WALL-E,’ Donut Hole when he started to swell in ninth grade, Donut Black Hole when he continued to put on weight in tenth grade (Tony thought he was really clever with that one), Buttercup when they caught him gardening, Hippie when he stopped hunting, Faggot again when he became a vegetarian and started wearing a MEAT IS MURDER pin (Oh yeah, why you craving mine then?), Faggot again when he broke down in class over being called Faggot, Sissy after that, whispered, smothered in sniggers almost hidden, Ron-Ron by the high school debate team coach because he danced like a cross between Morrissey and some fat old black guy (WTF?) in some old-ass show called ‘What’s Happening!!’, Brainiac when he aced the PSATs for his region, Turd Nerd when he hung with Jo-Jo and the Black Bruiser, D’ron Da’ron, D’aron, sweet simple Daron the first few minutes of the first class of the first day of college.

If you pay court to a young girl whose existence is a compound of loneliness, despair, and poverty, and who has no suspicion that she will come into a fortune, good Lord! it is quint and quatorze at piquet;

La porte s’est ouverte tout de suite et est allée co - gner contre le mur. J’ai perçu un claquement, comme le bruit d’une paume ouverte rencontrant une eau boueuse, et la masse qui ne pouvait pas me ressembler s’est affaissée sur mon abdomen en même temps que l’humeur visqueuse m’entraînait à deux doigts de l’asphyxie. Puis un bruit sec a chassé la chose gisant en travers de moi, et celle-ci a atterri mollement au pied d’un paravent qui divisait mon appartement. Jan s’est éloigné du lit pour pousser du pied la masse presque humanoïde et a hoché la tête. J’ai eu une quinte de toux et j’ai recraché une substance peu ragoûtante. Il est venu près de moi, a détaché l’un de mes poignets pour que je m’appuie contre lui et il m’a frotté le dos en essuyant mon menton avec un coin de la couverture. Il n’a pas eu de mouvement de recul devant le bouillon visqueux qui se collait à lui. Je n’ai pas crié « Mon héros ! », mais, abandonnant tout orgueil, je me suis laissée aller dans ses bras à ma terreur rétrospective. « Nous te guérirons, disait-il, nous trouverons un moyen de venir à bout du LX-200. Fais-moi confiance, je ne suis pas ton ennemi. »

The measured magnetic moment, together with fine structure constant determined by a different method, is the most stringent test of QED and the Standard Model of particle physics. The measured magnetic moment and QED theory together yield the most precise measured value of the fine structure constant.

En toen keek ook kleine Quint op van zijn PS. Hij vroeg aan de clowns: 'Weten jullie wanneer eetzuster Gera komt?' De cliniclowns wisten niet wanneer eetzuster Gera kwam. 'Oh,' zei Quint toen, alsof hij Poetin was, 'ga dan maar weg.

ex-husband,

asked.

Sono entrato nella vita sapendo che la legge è di uscirne. Come aveva detto Saint-Savin, si impersona la propria parte, chi più a lungo, chi più in fretta, e si esce di scena. Me ne sono visti molti passar davanti, altri mi vedranno passare, e daranno lo stesso spettacolo ai loro successori. D'altra parte, per quanto tempo non sono stato, e per quanto non sarò più! Occupo uno spazio ben piccolo nell'abisso degli anni. Questo piccolo intervallo non riesce a distinguermi dal niente in cui dovrò andare. Non sono venuto al mondo che per far numero. La mia parte è stata così piccola che, anche se fossi rimasto dietro alle quinte, tutti avrebbero detto lo stesso che la commedia era perfetta. E' come in una tempesta: gli uni annegano subito, altri si spezzano contro uno scoglio, altri rimangono su un legno abbandonato, ma non per molto anch'essi. La vita si spegne da sola, come una candela che ha consumato la sua materia. E ci si dovrebbe essere abituati, perché come una candela abbiamo cominciato a disperdere atomi sin dal primo momento che ci siamo accesi. Non è una gran sapienza sapere queste cose, d'accordo. Dovremmo saperle dal momento che siamo nati. Ma di solito riflettiamo sempre e soltanto sulla morte degli altri. EH sì, tutti abbiamo abbastanza forza per sopportare i mali altrui. Poi viene il momento che si pensa alla morte quando il male è nostro, e allora ci si accorge che né il sole né la morte si possono guardare fissi. A meno che non si abbiano avuti dei buoni maestri.

Doll’s eyes, Quint said, once.

happened, well . . . we split up. Now he’s probably zombified or headed out west, along with everyone else in town. When everything first happened, I heard it was safer out west. But I haven’t heard anything about that since, like, day four, so who knows. But still, there’s the chance Quint is alive, somewhere, and this walkie could reach him. So I cannot quit! Seven finger burns later, I get the walkie working. I squeeze the button and it lets out a soft hiss that tells me it’s transmitting.

La foresta d'argento al di là delle prime quinte. I veli trasparenti. Se si vuole, l'opposto della stanza rossa. Nessuna camera è ancora stata predisposta per la scena. Capelli biondi fatti crescere per anni, al solo scopo di ammaliare. Donne d'oro, dalla pelle bianca sotto fari bianchi. "Cielo, apri aria." "Non è davvero interessante l'audio originale. È la ripetizione che dà voce al senso." La notte le avrebbe baciate sulle sponde del mare di luna. "La bellezza si fa da sé. Tutto il resto lo chiameremo critica." E intanto giravano ancora i ventilatori. La ballerina non ballava, in attesa di un nuovo Io. Le attrici ripetevano le stesse battute, coi capelli all'indietro. Se mancava loro il fiato, c'era comunque il vento.

Doug is more valuable alive and earning an income, then dead with a life insurance policy.

Great suggestion, Angela!” agreed Marie. “I have not been to that bar in years, but I remember trying their deep fried cheesecake. It was delicious and a heart attack on a plate. Jo, are you at a convenient place in your research to take a break?

Green Bay averaged one murder a year,

Haven’t you had enough gross crime scenes with the brain matter on the green yesterday?” asked Marie. “Oh wait, I forgot - you were with the crime lab, Jill.

Ha ha, hey the four of us made it off the course in good health. We didn't ask to play next to this foursome. We were happily gulping margaritas. Back to the case, we really appreciate your help. We have sort of hit a roadblock on where to go next and then we thought of you. Angela

Because he died in a city with a population of less than five thousand that was in a county with a population of just more than sixteen thousand residents, they have a coroner who's not a physician.

They all piled into one car to drive to the bar. It was nearly close enough to walk, but there was rain in the forecast and they opted to stay dry by taking a car.

She was sure they were dying to know

Okay, we’re all dying to know.

Suddenly, the Drakkor erupts—a pained cry so loud that Quint half expects his eardrums to explode.

Sailboat Table (table by Quint Hankle) The Voyage of the Narwhal, by Andrea Barrett Complete Stories, by Clarice Lispector Boy Kings of Texas, by Domingo Martinez The Marrow Thieves, by Cherie Dimaline A Brief History of Seven Killings, by Marlon James There There, by Tommy Orange Citizen: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine Underland, by Robert Macfarlane The Undocumented Americans, by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio Deacon King Kong, by James McBride The Dutch House, by Ann Patchett Will and Testament, by Vigdis Hjorth Every Man Dies Alone, by Hans Fallada The Door, by Magda Svabo The Plot Against America, by Philip Roth Fates and Furies, by Lauren Groff The Overstory, by Richard Power Night Train, by Lise Erdrich Her Body and Other Parties, by Carmen Maria Machado The Penguin Book of the Modern American Short Story, edited by John Freeman Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates Birds of America, by Lorrie Moore Mongrels, by Stephen Graham Jones The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans Tenth of December, by George Saunders Murder on the Red River, by Marcie R. Rendon Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam Ceremony, by Leslie Marmon Silko On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong The Unwomanly Face of War, by Svetlana Alexievich Standard Deviation, by Katherine Heiny All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews The Death of the Heart, by Elizabeth Bowen Mean Spirit, by Linda Hogan NW, by Zadie Smith Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande Americanah, by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley Erasure, by Percival Everett Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn Heaven, by Mieko Kawakami

The Fundamentals of Leadership can provide managers with the foundation they need to be successful. We owe it to our leaders to train them in basic leadership skills.

Del resto anche prima le decisioni importanti le avevano sempre prese loro, dietro le quinte: perché giocare alla democrazia? Ogni governo in fondo è un’oligarchia...

Before we go driving anywhere, we need gasoline.” See, we’ve been using gasoline by the gallon-ful to run the generator for the Xbox and the toaster oven and the RC helicopter and the massage chair and the Christmas lights and all that jazz. I had what I THOUGHT was a brilliant plan to get us some easy electricity. Y’know those wheels that mice run on in labs and junk? Well, I was going to grab a treadmill from the high school gym and . . . Quint

When

The funny thing is, they'll all go," said Raffix with a smile. "All the knights and all the squires promoted to replace them. Every last one of them." He smiled ruefully. "Even me." "But why?" said Quint. "I mean, if you doubt Hax..." "Because, my dear chap, this is the Knights Academy," Raffix replied. "We were born to stormchase.

Lanier asked me, looking over to Quint, who sat upside down on the black leather couch—his feet in the air, his head near the floor. Weird fucking guy.

that they pulling

So at the point he'd been knock over the head

Bruno Dellinger, principal, Quint Amasis North America, North Tower: When I arrived home, on my apartment door there was a Post-It from one of my interns who left a funny note: “If you’re alive, I’m still alive.

He was always dying of something, either hunger or love or…yes, come to think of it, like Charlie Chaplin, he was mostly dying of love.

My friends come closer, but I take a hesitant step back. “Guys, please,” I say, throwing up my hand, all dramatic. “I have changed . . . I . . . I am different now. I am no longer the Jack you know. I am . . . more.” I hoist the blade over my head. “I must go now,” I say. My face is sombre. “I must learn the limits of these powers. It is my quest – my quest alone. And where I go, you cannot follow.” June’s mouth hangs open. Quint is frozen. Dirk is quiet. I hang my head for a moment, and when I lift it up again –

John Cartier: The sound was so deafening. Michele Cartier, Lehman Brothers, North Tower, 40th floor: This high-pitched sound, and I didn’t know what that was, but it was so eerie, like your fingernails-on-a-chalkboard type of thing. Bruno Dellinger, principal, Quint Amasis North America, North Tower, 47th floor: I heard a sound that today I cannot remember. It was so powerful, such a huge sound that I blocked it. It scared me to death. I blocked it, and I cannot bring it back up to consciousness. Howard Lutnick, CEO, Cantor Fitzgerald, North Tower: The loudest sound I’d ever heard. Gregory Fried, executive chief surgeon, NYPD: I can’t even give you an analogy.

checked it out of the library before we left.” Of course Quint checked it out. He’ll probably even pay the late fees.

Those butter slicks saved our butts,” Dirk says. I nod. Quint’s good at saving butts. Saved mine many times. He’s a primo butt-saver.

I can’t believe it worked,” I say. Quint grins. “Believe it, friend! My noggin is superior!” “I wasn’t knocking your noggin.” “Never knock my noggin.

Are they any stops

Angela put her arm on the woman's hand

He knows what every citizen and business is doing his empire.

No, you’re an Angel,” Lanier stated. “Half Angel,” Quint corrected. “Way to ease into it, guys,” Cabe groaned. All thoughts of weakness and the will to act strong vanished. “How in the fuck?” I yelled.

then

Calling Sol stubborn was like calling an outhouse aromatic.

More propaganda, ma’am,” Quint said, “but we need to keep looking for trends. As I have noted, even propaganda can reveal hidden truths.

J’ai vu une chienne qui hurlait de plaisir en entendant la tierce majeure tenue en double corde sur le violon, elle a fait des petits sur qui la tierce, ni la quinte, ni la sixte, ni l’octave, ni aucun accord consonant ou dissonant, n’ont jamais produit la moindre impression. Le public, de quelque manière qu’il soit composé, est toujours, à l’égard des grandes conceptions musicales, comme cette chienne et ses chiens. Il a certains nerfs qui vibrent à certaines résonances, mais cette organisation, tout incomplète qu’elle soit, étant inégalement répartie et modifiée à l’infini, il s’ensuit qu’il y a presque folie à compter sur tels moyens de l’art plutôt que sur tels autres, pour agir sur lui ; et que le compositeur n’a rien de mieux à faire que d’obéir aveuglément à son sentiment propre, en se résignant d’avance à toutes les chances du hasard.

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