“
Truth, honesty, perseverance, strength, love of all kinds and forgiveness are all beautiful, Tack. The most beautiful stories ever told are the most difficult to take.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
There's an epigram tacked to my office bulletin board, pinched from a magazine -- "Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like pâté.
”
”
Margaret Atwood (Negotiating with the Dead: A Writer on Writing)
“
We've hit the hot guy motherlode.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that's all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition.
”
”
Jean-Paul Sartre (Nausea)
“
Baby,” his voice gentled, “this is me seein’ to that soft spot when I say quiet-like that I... will... be... there... in ten. And what I mean is, when I get there in ten, your ass better be there.”
Oh boy.
“Are you coming on your bike?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m in a tight, short, little aquamarine dress with high heels. I can’t get on a bike.
“You’re in a tight, short dress and high heels?” Tack asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be in there in five.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
I take a step toward him and grin cheerfully. "With all due respect, I don't see the Republic tacking up wanted posters with your pretty face on them.
”
”
Marie Lu (Prodigy (Legend, #2))
“
The hot-o-meter started ringing like crazy as hot guys descended on me, my car and Tack from two directions.
Boy was I glad I curled my hair.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Mystery Man (Dream Man, #1))
“
The most important thing to remember about depression is this: you do not get the time back. It is not tacked on at the end of your life to make up for the disaster years. Whatever time is eaten by a depression is gone forever. The minutes that are ticking by as you experience the illness are minutes you will not know again.
”
”
Andrew Solomon (The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression)
“
Babe, advice. A man expresses his gratitude, you do not throw attitude. You kiss him and, maybe, suck his dick to show your appreciation.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Captain," I said, letting the surprise I felt filter into my voice. It was weird how every time I said the word captain, I wanted to tack on a Jack Sparrow at the end.
”
”
Darynda Jones (Fifth Grave Past the Light (Charley Davidson, #5))
“
Tack grinned.
"You know," I started, "it's annoying when you grin all know-it-all."
"This isn't my know-it-all grin, Red. This is my I'm gonna get me some later grin."
I felt a couple of quivers that were on the high end of pleasant scale.
Still, I shared. "That's even more annoying."
"Don't know why since me gettin' some means you're gonna get some.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
If this woman tacked the word “please” onto any request, he would find a way to fulfill it. Build me a palace, please. How many floors, baby?
”
”
Tessa Bailey (It Happened One Summer (Bellinger Sisters, #1))
“
I mean, if you're asking a fellow to come out of a room so that you can dismember him with a carving knife, it's absurd to tack a 'sir' on to every sentence. The two things don't go together.
”
”
P.G. Wodehouse (Thank You, Jeeves (Jeeves, #5))
“
Darlin' you're the greediest piece of ass I've had in my bed in a long fuckin' time. I got a taste for greedy, you think I'm not gonna take it?
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Words were so puzzling. Present should mean a present just as attack should mean to stick tacks in people.
”
”
Beverly Cleary (Ramona the Pest (Ramona, #2))
“
Oh," I whispered.
"Fuck, I'm not even close."
"To what?"
"The heart of you. You run so fuckin' deep, I'll never get there."
God.
"Lookin' forward to a lifetime of diggin', babe."
God!
"Now you're being sweet," I accused, my voice wobbly.
"Used to it yet?"
"No."
"You got a lifetime to get there too."
Seriously.
I could take no more.
"Shut up."
"I will, you kiss me."
"Rush and/or Tabby might be here any minute."
"I didn't tell you to go down on me.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
We destroy the love of learning in children, which is so strong when they are small, by encouraging and compelling them to work for petty and contemptible rewards, gold stars, or papers marked 100 and tacked to the wall, or A's on report cards, or honor rolls, or dean's lists, or Phi Beta Kappa keys, in short, for the ignoble satisfaction of feeling that they are better than someone else.
”
”
John C. Holt
“
Tack studied him. Then quietly, he stated, “She’s my only daughter, man.”
“And she’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, Tack,” Shy shot back instantly.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Own the Wind (Chaos, #1))
“
Oprah. Her advice is tacked to the wall in my study: “Do not think you can be brave with your life and your work and never disappoint anyone. It doesn’t work that way.
”
”
Brené Brown (Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone)
“
We are taught to treat a practice sword with all the respect of a real weapon, so no thoughtless mistakes are made"
"Oh... In Eddis, we learn to keep tack of the weapon we have in our hand.
”
”
Megan Whalen Turner (The King of Attolia (The Queen's Thief, #3))
“
he saw that all the struggles of life were incessant, laborious, painful, that nothing was done quickly, without labor, that it had to undergo a thousand fondlings, revisings, moldings, addings, removings, graftings, tearings, correctings, smoothings, rebuildings, reconsiderings, nailings, tackings, chippings, hammerings, hoistings, connectings — all the poor fumbling uncertain incompletions of human endeavor. They went on forever and were forever incomplete, far from perfect, refined, or smooth, full of terrible memories of failure and fears of failure, yet, in the way of things, somehow noble, complete, and shining in the end.
”
”
Jack Kerouac
“
No, it was because Hawk, Brock and Mitch stormed that house at Tack’s side. This meant, to Tack, they were different kinds of brothers. Not of blood. Not of the cut. But that bond was unshakable all the same.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Bottom line, no one fucks with my woman.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
What will you do with them?"
"Redo them in charcoal, probably."
"And then?"
"Tack them to my bedroom wall."
Bedroom wall?
"Who wouldn't want to wake up to this?
”
”
Tammara Webber (Easy (Contours of the Heart, #1))
“
My tablecloth was missing in action and long, jagged scratches covered the table's surface.The scratches looked suspiciously like letters. I climbed on a chair and looked at it from above. MINE. Oh, that's great. Fantastic. So mature. Perhaps he would pull my pigtails next or stick a tack on my seat.
”
”
Ilona Andrews (Gunmetal Magic (Kate Daniels, #5.5; World of Kate Daniels, #6 & #6.5; Andrea Nash, #1))
“
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor --
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now --
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
”
”
Langston Hughes
“
You have no clue," he whispered.
"No clue about what?" I whispered back.
"What you handed me last night."
I took in a deep breath and asked softly, "What did I hand you, honey?"
"What's lyin' in that bed."
That was when I stopped breathing.
"I claimed it," he went on. "But last night you gave it to me. Gift's given, no takin' it back. You get that, Tyra?"
"I think so," I whispered.
"Get that, baby, it's important.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
I'm not going to work in a place where I can't eat donuts.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Every human activity is a tack for killing time,
”
”
Thomas Ligotti (The Conspiracy Against the Human Race: A Contrivance of Horror)
“
The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks. See the line from a sufficient distance, and it straightens itself to the average tendency. Your genuine action will explain itself, and will explain your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. Act singly, and what you have already done singly will justify you now.
”
”
Ralph Waldo Emerson (Self-Reliance: An Excerpt from Collected Essays, First Series)
“
Sweet Pea, the way you eat means you got tits and ass. This is good because I like tits and ass. This is bad because Tack and Lawson like 'em just as much as me. Then he shoved his noodles and veg into his mouth and said with his mouth full, Tack maybe more.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Mystery Man (Dream Man, #1))
“
Babe, look at me.”
“Kiss my ass,” I replied.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Got it all scheduled,” he noted.
“Yes,” I returned.
“What’s a huge-ass wedding?”
“Don’t ask that,” I advised. “Just show up.”
His grin turned wicked and I liked it. That was, I liked it until he enquired, “You askin’ me to marry you, Red?”
I wasn’t even sipping coffee and, still, I chocked. Then I pushed out, “What?”
“I accept.”
I shook my head and kept shaking it when I requested clarification, “Let me get this straight. Did you just accept my non-marriage offer?”
“Non-marriage?”
“I didn’t ask!” My voice was rising.
“So you just wanna shack up?” he asked but didn’t wait on my answer. “I’m good with that too.”
Gah!
“I’m getting my huge-ass wedding,” I declared.
“So you are askin’ me to marry you,” he noted.
Gah! Gah! Gah!!
Sharp as a tack.
Someone kill me.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
You can’t find the end of infinity. There is no end. So if you can’t tack space onto the end of infinity, you have to create space at the beginning.
”
”
Amy Harmon (Infinity + One)
“
you don't know this, baby, but some men have dream women too"
Tack-Motorcyle Man
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
Tack’s eyes stayed locked on Shy’s two beats then he said quietly. “Make her happy.”
Shy held his gaze as, for the first time in fucking months, he began to breathe easy.
There it was.
Tack just gave it.
His blessing.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Own the Wind (Chaos, #1))
“
A is for Amy who fell down the stairs.
B is for Basil assaulted by bears.
C is for Clara who wasted away.
D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh.
E is for Ernest who choked on a peach.
F is for Fanny sucked dry by a leech.
G is for George smothered under a rug.
H is for Hector done in by a thug.
I is for Ida who drowned in a lake.
J is for James who took lye by mistake.
K is for Kate who was struck with an axe.
L is for Leo who choked on some tacks.
M is for Maud who was swept out to sea.
N is for Neville who died of ennui.
O is for Olive run through with an awl.
P is for Prue trampled flat in a brawl.
Q is for Quentin who sank on a mire.
R is for Rhoda consumed by a fire.
S is for Susan who perished of fits.
T is for Titus who flew into bits.
U is for Una who slipped down a drain.
V is for Victor squashed under a train.
W is for Winnie embedded in ice.
X is for Xerxes devoured by mice.
Y is for Yorick whose head was bashed in.
Z is for Zillah who drank too much gin.
”
”
Edward Gorey
“
We done with this talk about everything?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“You good?” he asked.
Oh yes. I was good. I nodded but added another soft, “Yes.”
His hands slid down over my ass and he ordered, “Then hop up baby, Time to f**k.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
I’m sorry,” he repeats again, too low for Raven and Tack to hear. “I’m sorry for everything.
”
”
Lauren Oliver (Requiem (Delirium, #3))
“
Silence then, "Are you smashed?"
"Completely and totally."
"What are you wearing?"
"Who cares?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"'Cause you're smashed, you been with your girls, you somehow got riled up about somethin' and once I settle you down about whatever's aggravating you, I'm gonna rile you up a different way.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
I color your world."
I blinked and my heart stopped.
How did he....?
Oh crap! I told him!
Drunk, in the middle of great sex, I told him!
Ohmigod!
"I was right. You were asleep but you were dreamin'. You dream in black and white, babe. I gave you color. Now, you're awake."
"Tack --"
"You admitted it."
"Tack, please --"
"You were drunk, wet, hot and way the fuck turned on but you still admitted it."
I did and the way he was looking at me, his blue eyes drilling into mine, I couldn't deny it.
And also, it was true.
Damn.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
I felt his forehead against mine, another swipe of his thumb to wipe the wetness away and I heard him whisper, "Baby, I can't keep up.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Jealousy is an ugly emotion that makes people do some seriously whacked shit and when a woman is experiencing it, it's worse.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
You been asleep, baby."
My body went still at his words.
Tack kept talking.
"Green tea. Yoga. No TV. Placemats for your coffee table. Thursday night takeaway. You got a night for takeaway. Scheduled. A narrow, little world. Fuck me. Crazy. Fuckin' whacked. I woke you up, opened your eyes to a bigger world and scared you shitless.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
You're in a tight, short dress and high heels? Tack asked.
"Yes."
"I'll be there in five.
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
Day in, day out, you peel the layers back for me. Smart mouth, funny, sweet, wild in bed. Chattin' with bikers like they were insurance brokers. Holdin' my girl's hand, givin' her strength when her Mom's bein' a bitch. Keepin' your chin up when your people show in the middle of a full blown drama. But so fuckin' vulnerable, you're scared shitless of livin' life."
"You don't know me, Tack."
His head came up and his eyes pierced mine. "I know you, Tyra."
"You don't."
"Life's a roller coaster. Best damn ride in the park. You don't close your eyes, hold on and wait for it to be over, babe. You keep your eyes open, lift your hands straight up in the air and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasts.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
(...)The ride is not over but if I can keep my Club together and find a sweet, feisty woman who's got my back and enough to her that she'll stay there, holding me up not dragging me down, I figure I'd find my way to beauty eventually. And I'd find absolution because I'd know, I earned the love of that woman, a woman who's got so much to her it'll take years to dig down and find the heart of her, that would be my reward."
Ohmigod.
Ohmigod!
Ohmigod!
Did he just say that?
Did. He. Just. Say that?
"And you told me," Tack continued, his face coming closer, "I had that when I first met you.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Now, it it well known that one cannot step on a tack without saying something about it.
”
”
Joshua Slocum (Sailing Alone around the World)
“
Mother to Son
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor -
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a'climbin' on,
And reachin' landin's,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now -
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
- Langston Hughes (112)
”
”
Sapphire (Push)
“
My eyes narrowed and I snapped, “You’re not allowed to do that shift.”
His head jerked slightly and he asked, “Say again?”
“Be sweet and make me all melty and want to jump you when I ‘m celebrating my heretofore unknown badassness with a bunch of bikers and their bitches. Not to mention, I’m hungry.”
Tack grinned as his arm snaked around me and he yanked me close.
“You wanna jump me?” he asked.
“I always want to jump you,” I answered.
“Good to know,” he muttered.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Tack didn’t grin. He tugged on my arm and dragged me down the hall to his bedroom. Dinner was chips and dip, beer and tequila and good company. Dessert was Cool Whip and Tack. In other words, dessert was the bomb!
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Not liking that," I clipped and his brows went up again.
"Are you shittin' me?"
"No!" I cried. "I deserve to be wooed!"
"Right, then I'll amend my statement. I'll woo you by gettin' you off as many times as I can with my mouth, fingers and cock, cookin' for you when I have time, not firin' your ass when you fuck shit up, which is often, and puttin' up with your bullshit. Bullshit like now when you're playin' even more games because you know I like it when you also know what you really wanna do is kiss me."
"Actually, handsome, I don't want to kiss you. I want to kick you."
His smile came back. "Bullshit games.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
The study of the victim is called victimology because everything sounds better with and ology tacked on the end.
”
”
Ben Aaronovitch
“
I left you sweet and smiling in this goddamed bed and I don’t see you or hear your voice for four days? Then I walk into your office and you give me attitude and tell me to kiss your ass because you’re in a pissy mood about some shit you refuse to share? No. You gotta know, darlin’, that shit don’t play with me.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Three hand-painted signs had been tacked to a broken-down gate. The first read,
THE QUIBBLER. EDITOR: X. LOVEGOOD
The second,
PICK YOUR OWN MISTLETOE
The third,
KEEP OFF THE DIRIGIBLE PLUMS
”
”
J.K. Rowling (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7))
“
The poems ... are moments when I had the intensity to see, and the energy to build, some careful analog that completed the seeing. ... All I have been left is the exhausting habit of trying to tack up the slack in my life with words.
”
”
Samuel R. Delany (Dhalgren)
“
Come on, Paisley. What's the worst that could happen?"
Aria meant it as a joke,but her voice sounded too high so she tacked on a laugh. That came out sounding mildly hysterical.
"What could happen in a damaged dome?"
Paisley counted on her slender fingers. "Our skin could rot off. We could get locked out. An Aether storm could turn us into human bacon. Then the cannibals could eat us for breakfast.
”
”
Veronica Rossi (Under the Never Sky (Under the Never Sky, #1))
“
Prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated hen-house.
”
”
George Orwell (Politics and the English Language)
“
Give me that mouth again, babe, then get outta here.
"Is the word 'please' in your vocabulary?"
"No, but you throw more attitude at me before givin' me your mouth, tonight, that word is gonna be in your vocabulary and I'm gonna make you use it often
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
Ralon didn't make anyone else put his tack away?" Alex wanted to know. "You didn't see anything strange?"
Alanna didn't look up. "No." It wasn't strange , she excused her lie mentally. Ralon does things like that all the time.
”
”
Tamora Pierce (Alanna: The First Adventure (Song of the Lioness, #1))
“
That's me," Tack answered. "Full of surprises. Now, you gonna give Lawson his assurances and make your call or are we gonna get out our knitting needles and chat while we make scarves.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Law Man (Dream Man, #3))
“
The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks.
”
”
Ralph Waldo Emerson (Self-Reliance and Other Essays (Dover Thrift Editions: Philosophy))
“
Over my desk, I’ve got this enormous bulletin board, and on it I’ve tacked black-and-white photographs of writers at work.
”
”
Jennifer Niven (All the Bright Places)
“
I KNEW IT WAS OVER
when tonight you couldn't make the phone ring
when you used to make the sun rise
when trees used to throw themselves
in front of you
to be paper for love letters
that was how i knew i had to do it
swaddle the kids we never had
against january's cold slice
bundle them in winter
clothes they never needed
so i could drop them off at my mom's
even though she lives on the other side of the country
and at this late west coast hour is
assuredly east coast sleeping
peacefully
her house was lit like a candle
the way homes should be
warm and golden
and home
and the kids ran in
and jumped at the bichon frise
named lucky
that she never had
they hugged the dog
it wriggled
and the kids were happy
yours and mine
the ones we never had
and my mom was
grand maternal, which is to say, with style
that only comes when you've seen
enough to know grace
like when to pretend it's christmas or
a birthday so
she lit her voice with tiny
lights and pretended
she didn't see me crying
as i drove away
to the hotel connected to the bar
where i ordered the cheapest whisky they had
just because it shares your first name
because they don't make a whisky
called baby
and i only thought what i got
was what
i ordered
i toasted the hangover
inevitable as sun
that used to rise
in your name
i toasted the carnivals
we never went to
and the things you never won
for me
the ferris wheels we never
kissed on and all the dreams
between us
that sat there
like balloons on a carney's board
waiting to explode with passion
but slowly deflated
hung slave
under the pin-
prick of a tack
hung
heads down
like lovers
when it doesn't
work, like me
at last call
after too many cheap
too many sweet
too much
whisky makes me
sick, like the smell of cheap,
like the smell of
the dead
like the cheap, dead flowers
you never sent
that i never threw
out of the window
of a car
i never
really
owned
”
”
Daphne Gottlieb (Final Girl)
“
This is how Tack and Raven work: It’s their private language of push and return, argument and concession. With the cure, relationships are all the same, and rules and expectations are defined. Without the cure, relationships must be reinvented every day, languages constantly decoded and deciphered.
”
”
Lauren Oliver (Requiem (Delirium, #3))
“
Lee Nightingale is a supreme badass. Hawk’s a bona fide superhero who doesn’t wear a ridiculous suit. This is no joke. He probably sensed our discussion through powers he got when his mom was pushin’ him out and got struck by lightning or something. I don’t ask. He’s an ally. He’s also a brother of Tack’s. I’m just happy he isn’t an enemy.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Ride Steady (Chaos, #3))
“
Despite the fact that Raven and Tack are often fighting, it's impossible to imagine one without the other. They are like two plants that have grown around each other - they strangle and squeeze and support at the same time.
”
”
Lauren Oliver (Requiem (Delirium, #3))
“
Funny thing, isn’t it, hindsight? It’s memory, but with new understanding tacked on, so that the past means something different than it did before.
”
”
J.T. Geissinger (Pen Pal)
“
I quote much scripture in this book. I do so intentionally, without references, because that is how I believe scripture should fit into the fabric of our lives. It is not tacked on; it is woven in.
”
”
Cindy Rollins (Mere Motherhood: Morning Times, Nursery Rhymes, and My Journey toward Sanctification)
“
When fear rules your theology, God is nowhere to be found in your paradigm, no matter how many Bible verses you tack onto it.
”
”
Rosaria Champagne Butterfield (The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert)
“
Sometimes I run fast when I feel like it, but if I increase the pace I shorten the amount of time I run, the point being to let the exhilaration I feel at the end of each run carry over to the next day. This is the same sort of tack I find necessary when writing a novel. I stop every day right at the point where I feel I can write more. Do that, and the next day's work goes surprisingly smoothly. I think Ernest Hemingway did something like that. To keep on going, you have to keep up the rhythm. This is the important thing for long-term projects. Once you set the pace, the rest will follow. The problem is getting the flywheel to spin at a set speed-and to get to that point takes as much concentration and effort as you can manage.
”
”
Haruki Murakami (What I Talk About When I Talk About Running)
“
They should really tack that on to the marriage ceremony: 'Do you promise to love, honor, obey me, and also to kill me when I can no longer stand in a shower?
”
”
Marisha Pessl (Night Film)
“
What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"I don't know, Em." Bryan takes a gulp from his water bottle. "It's a bit slutty, isn't it?"
I stare pointedly at the FHM poster Blu-Tacked on the wall opposite the bed, of some topless model, one finger in her mouth, the other hand reaching into her knickers.
"That's different.
”
”
Louise O'Neill (Asking For It)
“
People don't drfit apart for one specific reason. Well, you might be able to find a reason, but you could come up with one only after you made up your mind, a tired excuse tacked on after the fact. If their hearts were still in it and their bond was threatening to sever, you'd think one of them would step in and try to fix things. When no one does, you you know the bond has already been broken.
”
”
Keigo Higashino (ナミヤ雑貨店の奇蹟)
“
Tack’s voice was granite when he started, “They will not take her boy, and the time to fuck with Carissa Teodoro is now over.”
Joker’s voice was a quiet growl when he started, “You know you got my love, brother.”
“I do,” Tack returned. “And it’s a privilege, Carson.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Ride Steady (Chaos, #3))
“
But you know what else never happened to me?"
"Tell me," he ordered, still...freaking...grinning.
"Seeing him just a day later in a clinch with a brunette."
"You knew me, you'd know she didn't have staying power and you'd know you do."
"And how's that?" I snapped.
"She's dark, you're red. I'll fuck dark, I'll fuck sun but only red has staying power. Considered sun once. Lost her. Now it's you.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
FYI, baby, havin' your attitude back is so far from annoying, it's not fuckin' funny.
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
From the time I met him, he left me little clues of a man, a trail of bread crumbs to a gingerbread cottage. Inside the cottage were peeling pictures of Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe that keep sliding to the floor because the walls were too sweet to hold the Blu-Tack. I tried to pick the posters off the floor and got so distracted, I ended up in an oven. So I climbed out of the oven and out of the house and I was saving myself, but it hurt so bad. I found the boy I loved, but he didn't want to hug me because I was blistered and spotted with bread crumbs. I looked up close because, up close, I could always see myself reflected in the surface of his shiny, iconic beauty. But suddenly he had pores, grey hairs, and chapped lips. And I couldn't see a damn thing.
”
”
Emma Forrest
“
There are many skills and maneuvers that people tend to classify as either Western or English. But the truth is horses are horses – their balance is the same, the way they move and the way in which the rider uses the aids for cueing are the same. The appearance of your clothes and tack doesn’t really change that.
”
”
Julie Goodnight
“
The little boy had wandered away from his mother, tacking across the grass to the play structure. His mother watched him go, proud, tickled, unaware that every time they toddled away from you, they came back a little different, ten seconds older and nearer to the day when they left you for good. Pearl divers in training, staying under a few seconds longer every time.
”
”
Michael Chabon (Telegraph Avenue)
“
Tack studied him before he remarked, “You think I’m whipped.”
Joker made no reply. He wouldn’t disrespect a brother like that, especially not Tack.
But he did think that.
Absolutely.
Tack grinned and took a pull from his beer.
After he dropped it, he said reflectively, still grinning. “Maybe I am. Though, the way I am and the woman holds that whip, it’s a good thing to be.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Ride Steady (Chaos, #3))
“
Since The Day, he had lived in the imperative present, not daring to plan beyond the next meal or the next day. This bit of paper tacked on peeling white paint abruptly enlarged his perspective, as if, stumbling through a black tunnel, he saw, or thought he saw, a chink of light. If Man retained faith in God, he might also retain faith in Man.
”
”
Pat Frank (Alas, Babylon)
“
I was diagnosed a thirteen. Paranoid got tacked on about a year later, after I verbally attacked a librarian for trying to hand me propaganda pamphlets for an underground communist force operating out of the basement of the public library. (She'd always been a very suspect type of librarian--I refuse to believe donning rubber gloves to handle books is a normal and accepted practice, and I don't care what anyone says.)
”
”
Francesca Zappia (Made You Up)
“
I cannot decide whether it is an illness or a sin, the need to write things down and fix the flowing world in one rigid form. Bear believed writing dulled the spirit, stilled some holy breath. Smothered it. Words, when they’ve been captured and imprisoned on paper, become a barrier against the world, one best left unerected. Everything that happens is fluid, changeable. After they’ve passed, events are only as your memory makes them, and they shift shapes over time. Writing a thing down fixes it in place as surely as a rattlesnake skin stripped from the meat and stretched and tacked to a barn wall. Every bit as stationary, and every bit as false to the original thing. Flat and still and harmless. Bear recognized that all writing memorializes a momentary line of thought as if it were final.
But I was always word-smitten.
”
”
Charles Frazier
“
Inside a barn is a whole universe, with its own time zone and climate and ecosystem, a shadowy world of swirling dust illuminated in tiger stripes by light shining through the cracks between the boards. Old leather tack, lengths of chain, rope, and baling twine dangled from nails and rafters and draped over stall railings. Generations of pocketknives lay lost in the layers of detritus on the floor.
”
”
Carolyn Jourdan (Heart in the Right Place)
“
My head fell forward and to the side until it collided with his shoulder as my arms slid around him and got tight.
I felt his head turn and in my ear he said quietly, "Fuck, baby, just with that, you made callin' that marker worth it.
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
Babe, I'm not anyone's boyfriend.
I blinked again but this was so I wouldn't flinch.
"What?" I whispered.
"You have a boyfriend when you're sixteen. You fuck a man casually, you don't have anything except, if he's good, a supply of orgasms. You got what we're building, you got everything. But bottom line, I've claimed you. This means you're my woman which in turn means I'm your man.
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
Then, still smiling, he kissed me. When he lifted his head he didn’t go far so I heard it when he whispered, “My reward.”
My eyes narrowed and I snapped, “You’re not allowed to do that shit.”
His head jerked slightly and he asked, “Say again?”
“Be sweet and make me all melty and want to jump you when I’m celebrating my heretofore unknown badassness with a bunch of bikers and their bitches. Not to mention, I’m hungry.” Tack grinned as his arm snaked around me and he yanked me close.
“You wanna jump me?” he asked.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Motorcycle Man (Dream Man, #4))
“
Song of myself
I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff
that is fine,
One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the
largest the same,
A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant and
hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the limberest
joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,
A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin
leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,
A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;
At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with fishermen
off Newfoundland,
At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking,
At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the
Texan ranch,
Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, (loving
their big proportions,)
Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake hands
and welcome to drink and meat,
A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,
A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,
Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.
I resist any thing better than my own diversity,
Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.
”
”
Walt Whitman
“
Into no other city does the sight of the country enter so far; if you do not meet a butterfly, you shall certainly catch a glimpse of far-away trees upon your walk; and the place is full of theatre tricks in the way of scenery. You peep under an arch, you descend stairs that look as if they would land you in a cellar, you turn to the back-window of a grimy tenement in a lane:—and behold! you are face-to-face with distant and bright prospects. You turn a corner, and there is the sun going down into the Highland hills. You look down an alley, and see ships tacking for the Baltic.
”
”
Robert Louis Stevenson (Edinburgh: Picturesque Notes)
“
When Seymour and I were five and three, Les and Bessie played on the same bill for a couple of weeks with Joe Jackson -- the redoubtable Joe Jackson of the nickel-plated trick bicycle that shone like something better than platinum to the very last row of the theater. A good many years later, not long after the outbreak of the Second World War, when Seymour and I had just recently moved into a small New York apartment of our own, our father -- Les, as he'll be called hereafter -- dropped in on us one evening on his way home from a pinochle game. He quite apparently had held very bad cards all afternoon. He came in, at any rate, rigidly predisposed to keep his overcoat on. He sat. He scowled at the furnishings. He turned my hand over to check for cigarette-tar stains on my fingers, then asked Seymour how many cigarettes he smoked a day. He thought he found a fly in his highball. At length, when the conversation -- in my view, at least -- was going straight to hell, he got up abruptly and went over to look at a photograph of himself and Bessie that had been newly tacked up on the wall. He glowered at it for a full minute, or more, then turned around, with a brusqueness no one in the family would have found unusual, and asked Seymour if he remembered the time Joe Jackson had given him, Seymour, a ride on the handle bars of his bicycle, all over the stage, around and around. Seymour, sitting in an old corduroy armchair across the room, a cigarette going, wearing a blue shirt, gray slacks, moccasins with the counters broken down, a shaving cut on the side of his face that I could see, replied gravely and at once, and in the special way he always answered questions from Les -- as if they were the questions, above all others, he preferred to be asked in his life. He said he wasn't sure he had ever got off Joe Jackson's beautiful bicycle.
”
”
J.D. Salinger (Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction)
“
The Me Too movement, started by Tarana Burke, made visible the overwhelming number of situations where assault and harassment happen, the way violence is embedded in our day-to-day lives, pointed out countless conversations and gestures we’d been taught to write off as insignificant. Me Too is a tail-end phrase, meant to be tacked on, in addition to. It is inextricable from a greater mass, immune to isolation. By stating those words, you didn’t have to divulge your full story in graphic detail, you just gave a nod, raised your hand. Speaking up didn’t force you to step into a spotlight, only helped you contribute to a glowing, innumerable whole. The Me Too movement offered the relief of finally being given a chance to set the story down, to see what it felt like to walk around, breathe, shake your arms out a little, without it.
”
”
Chanel Miller (Know My Name: A Memoir)
“
Discipline brings freedom.
The purpose of meditation is to enable us to hear God more clearly. Meditation is listening, sensing, heeding the life and light of Christ. This comes right to the heart of our faith. The life that pleases God is not a set of religious duties; it is to hear His voice and obey His word. Meditation opens the door to this way of living.
To pray is to change. All who have walked with God have viewed prayer as the main business of their lives.
For those explorers in the frontiers of faith, prayer was no little habit tacked on to the periphery of their lives; it was their lives. It was the most serious work of their most productive years. Prayer – nothing draws us closer to the heart of God.
Fasting must forever centre on God. More than any other Discipline, fasting reveals the things that control us.
The most difficult problem is not finding time but convincing myself that this is important enough to set aside the time.
Disciplines are not the answer; they only lead us to the Answer. We must clearly understand this limitation of the Disciplines if we are to avoid bondage.
Humility, as we all know, is one of those virtues that is never gained by seeking it. The more we pursue it the more distant it becomes. To think we have it is sure evidence that we don’t.
Anybody who has once been horrified by the dreadfulness of his own sin that nailed Jesus to the Cross will no longer be horrified by even the rankest sins of a brother.’
If worship does not propel us into greater obedience, it has not been worship. To stand before the Holy One of eternity is to change.
”
”
Richard J. Foster (Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth)
“
the crunch too much too little too fat too thin or nobody. laughter or tears haters lovers strangers with faces like the backs of thumb tacks armies running through streets of blood waving winebottles bayoneting and fucking virgins. or an old guy in a cheap room with a photograph of M. Monroe. there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. people so tired mutilated either by love or no love. people just are not good to each other one on one. the rich are not good to the rich the poor are not good to the poor. we are afraid. our educational system tells us that we can all be big-ass winners. it hasn’t told us about the gutters or the suicides. or the terror of one person aching in one place alone untouched unspoken to watering a plant. people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. people are not good to each other. I suppose they never will be. I don’t ask them to be. but sometimes I think about it. the beads will swing the clouds will cloud and the killer will behead the child like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone. too much too little too fat too thin or nobody more haters than lovers. people are not good to each other. perhaps if they were our deaths would not be so sad. meanwhile I look at young girls stems flowers of chance. there must be a way. surely there must be a way we have not yet thought of. who put this brain inside of me? it cries it demands it says that there is a chance. it will not say “no.
”
”
Charles Bukowski (Love is a Dog from Hell)
“
So Shy lowered his voice and reminded him, "She's not your little girl anymore, not like that. She may always be your , little girl in some ways, brother, but not like that. You gave me the chance, I would have told you, this is solid. We started out and it was friends. That wasn't what I wanted, it was what she needed, so I gave it to her. We built on that. The foundation is laid and it's the kind that holds fast. This is it, brother. We're livin' together. Soon's we can do it, we're movin' to a better fuckin' place so I can provide her a decent home. I'm puttin' my ring on her finger, I'm givin' her babies, and when she's laid to rest, that ring I give her will still be on her finger. I see you're accepting this now, so you need it all and there it is. I was a part of an us and I was happy. Some motherfucker killed my parents and took that from me, so life forced me to become nothin' but me. Now I'm as us again, and that's what I'll be with my woman and the family we make until the fucking day I die."
"Christ, Shy," Tack whispered.
"I think now you totally fuckin' feel me.
”
”
Kristen Ashley
“
One day, I wish to find a man like in my
books. He has to be just like in one of my books.
And he has to love me, love me more than anything
in the world. Most important of all, he has
to think I’m beautiful.”
“Lily, I need to tell you something.” Fazire
was going to tell her about Becky’s wish and his
mistake and let her look forward to something, let
her look forward to the incomparable beauty she
was going to be.
Most of all, he had to stop her wish now. He
didn’t want her wasting it on some fool idea. He
wanted it to be special, perfect, to make her world
better like she had made Becky and Will’s and,
indeed, his.
But again she didn’t hear him. Her eyes were
bright and they were steady on his.
“He has to be tall, very tall and dark and
broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped.”
Fazire stared. He didn’t even know what
“narrow-hipped” meant.
“And he has to be handsome, unbelievably
handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong,
square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned
skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes.
He has to be clever and very wealthy but hardworking.
He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and
rugged.”
Now she was getting over his head. He didn’t
think there was such a thing as impossibly handsome.
How cheekbones could be powerful,
Fazire didn’t know. He was even thinking he
might have to look up “virile” in the dictionary
Sarah had given him.
“And he has to be hard and cold and maybe a
little bit forbidding, a little bit bad with a broken
heart I have to mend or one encased in ice I have
to melt or better yet… both!”
Fazire thought this was getting a bit ridiculous.
It was the most complicated wish he’d ever
heard.
But she wasn’t yet finished.
“We have to go through some trials and tribulations.
Something to test our love, make it strong
and worthy. And… and… he has to be daring and
very masculine. Powerful. People must respect
him, maybe even fear him. Graceful too and lithe,
like a… like a cat! Or a lion. Or something like
that.”
She was losing steam and Fazire had to admit
he was grateful for it.
“And he has to be a good lover.” Lily shocked
Fazire by saying. “The best, so good, he could almost
make love to me just by using his eyes.”
Fazire felt himself blush. Perhaps he should
have a look at these books she was reading and
show them to Becky. Lily was a very sharp girl,
sharp as a tack (another one of Sarah’s sayings,
although Fazire couldn’t imagine a tack ever being
as clever as Lily) but she was too young to
be reading about any man making love to her
with his eyes. Fazire had never made love, never
would, genies just didn’t. But he was pretty certain
fourteen year old girls shouldn’t be thinking
about it.
Though, he was wrong about that, or at least
Becky would tell him that later.
Then Fazire realised she’d stopped talking.
“Is that it?” he asked.
She thought for a bit, clearly not wanting to
leave anything out.
Then she nodded.
”
”
Kristen Ashley (Three Wishes)
“
These groups [of disaffected youth] are not small, and they will grow larger. Certainly they are suffering. Demonstrably they are not getting enough out of our wealth and civilization. They are failing to assimilate much of the culture. As was predictable, most of the authorities and all of the public spokesmen explain it by saying there has been a failure of socialization. They say that the background conditions have interrupted socialization and must be improved. And, not enough effort has been made to guarantee belonging, there must be better bait or punishment.
But perhaps there has not been a failure to communicate. Perhaps the social message has been communicated clearly to the young men and is unacceptable.
In this book I shall therefore take the opposite tack and ask, 'Socialization to what? to what dominant society and available culture?' And if this question is asked, we must at once ask the other question, 'Is the harmonious organization to which the young are inadequately socialized, perhaps against human nature, or not worthy of human nature, and therefore there is difficulty in growing up?' If this is so, the disaffection of the young is profound and it will not be finally remediable by better techniques of socializing. Instead, there will have to be changes in our society and its culture, so as to meet the appetites and capacities of human nature, in order to grow up.
”
”
Paul Goodman (Growing Up Absurd: Problems of Youth in the Organized System)
“
On a relatively unfrequented, stony beach there is a great rock which juts out over the sea. After a climb, an ascent from one jagged foothold to another, a natural shelf is reached where one person can stretch at length, and stare down into the tide rising and falling below, or beyond to the bay, where sails catch light, then shadow, then light, as they tack far out near the horizon. The sun has burned these rocks, and the great continuous ebb and flow of the tide has crumbled the boulders, battered them, worn them down to the smooth sun-scalded stones on the beach which rattle and shift underfoot as one walks over them. A serene sense of the slow inevitability of the gradual changes in the earth’s crust comes over me; a consuming love, not of a god, but of the clean unbroken sense that the rocks, which are nameless, the waves which are nameless, the ragged grass, which is nameless, are all defined momentarily through the consciousness of the being who observes them. With the sun burning into rock and flesh, and the wind ruffling grass and hair, there is an awareness that the blind immense unconscious impersonal and neutral forces will endure, and that the fragile, miraculously knit organism which interprets them, endows them with meaning, will move about for a little, then falter, fail, and decompose at last into the anonomous [sic] soil, voiceless, faceless, without identity.
From this experience I emerged whole and clean, bitten to the bone by sun, washed pure by the icy sharpness of salt water, dried and bleached to the smooth tranquillity that comes from dwelling among primal things.
From this experience also, a faith arises to carry back to a human world of small lusts and deceitful pettiness. A faith, naïve and child like perhaps, born as it is from the infinite simplicity of nature. It is a feeling that no matter what the ideas or conduct of others, there is a unique rightness and beauty to life which can be shared in openness, in wind and sunlight, with a fellow human being who believes in the same basic principles.
”
”
Sylvia Plath (The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath)
“
The tired intellectual sums up the deformities and the vices of a world adrift. He does not act, he suffers; if he favors the notion of tolerance, he does not find in it the stimulant he needs. Tyranny furnishes that, as do the doctrines of which it is the outcome. If he is the first of its victims, he will not complain: only the strength that grinds him into the dust seduces him. To want to be free is to want to be oneself; but he is tired of being himself, of blazing a trail into uncertainty, of stumbling through truths. “Bind me with the chains of Illusion,” he sighs, even as he says farewell to the peregrinations of Knowledge. Thus he will fling himself, eyes closed, into any mythology which will assure him the protection and the peace of the yoke. Declining the honor of assuming his own anxieties, he will engage in enterprises from which he anticipates sensations he could not derive from himself, so that the excesses of his lassitude will confirm the tyrannies. Churches, ideologies, police—seek out their origin in the horror he feels for his own lucidity, rather than in the stupidity of the masses. This weakling transforms himself, in the name of a know-nothing utopia, into a gravedigger of the intellect; convinced of doing something useful, he prostitutes Pascal’s old “abêtissezvous,” the Solitary’s tragic device.
A routed iconoclast, disillusioned with paradox and provocation, in search of impersonality and routine, half prostrated, ripe for the stereotype, the tired intellectual abdicates his singularity and rejoins the rabble. Nothing more to overturn, if not himself: the last idol to smash … His own debris lures him on. While he contemplates it, he shapes the idol of new gods or restores the old ones by baptizing them with new names. Unable to sustain the dignity of being fastidious, less and less inclined to winnow truths, he is content with those he is offered. By-product of his ego, he proceeds—a wrecker gone to seed—to crawl before the altars, or before what takes their place. In the temple or on the tribunal, his place is where there is singing, or shouting—no longer a chance to hear one’s own voice. A parody of belief? It matters little to him, since all he aspires to is to desist from himself. All his philosophy has concluded in a refrain, all his pride foundered on a Hosanna!
Let us be fair: as things stand now, what else could he do? Europe’s charm, her originality resided in the acuity of her critical spirit, in her militant, aggressive skepticism; this skepticism has had its day. Hence the intellectual, frustrated in his doubts, seeks out the compensations of dogma. Having reached the confines of analysis, struck down by the void he discovers there, he turns on his heel and attempts to seize the first certainty to come along; but he lacks the naiveté to hold onto it; henceforth, a fanatic without convictions, he is no more than an ideologist, a hybrid thinker, such as we find in all transitional periods. Participating in two different styles, he is, by the form of his intelligence, a tributary of the one of the one which is vanishing, and by the ideas he defends, of the one which is appearing. To understand him better, let us imagine an Augustine half-converted, drifting and tacking, and borrowing from Christianity only its hatred of the ancient world. Are we not in a period symmetrical with the one which saw the birth of The City of God? It is difficult to conceive of a book more timely. Today as then, men’s minds need a simple truth, an answer which delivers them from their questions, a gospel, a tomb.
”
”
Emil M. Cioran (The Temptation to Exist)