Unwind Book Quotes

When we see our world is about to unwind,God sees an image of His perfect design.

I unwind with wine—or a few counter clockwise turns.

It wasn't always like this. There was a time when I imagined my life could happen in another way. It's true that early on I became used to the long hours I spent alone. I discovered that I did not need people as others did. After writing all day it took an effort to make conversation, like wading through cement, and often I simply chose not to make it, eating at a restaurant with a book or going for long walks alone instead, unwinding the solitude of the day through the city. But loneliness, true loneliness, is impossible to accustom oneself to, and while I was still young I thought of my situation as somehow temporary, and did not stop hoping and imagining that I would meet someone and fall in love... Yes, there was a time before I closed myself off to others.

There are different forms of seduction, and the kind I have witnessed in Persian dancers is so unique, such a mixture of subtlety and brazenness, I cannot find a Western equivalent to compare it to. I have seen women of vastly different backgrounds take on that same expression: a hazy, lazy, flirtatious look in their eyes. . . . This sort of seduction is elusive; it is sinewy and tactile. It twists, twirls, winds and unwinds. Hands curl and uncurl while the waist seems to coil and recoil. . . . It is openly seductive but not surrendering.

I drink screwdrivers because they help me unwind.

They were to be the start of a slave army—for when you’re a collection of parts, you’re not a person. You’re property.

We learn because we want to, not because we have to, so we learn faster. We learn deeper.

Because Dirk is different. Dirk is missing the spark. Which means there’s nothing holding him together but stitches.

But then who is he to decide if Dirk truly was soulless? Better to err on the side of grace.

Sometimes a healthy diet and keeping yourself fit for parts donation comes in handy.

As he slaves over his homework, he begins to wonder what it was like in the old days, when education was a right, not just a privilege. He wonders if school sucked as much then as it does now.

What must it be like to go through the motions of life, yet not be alive? Keaton knows he himself lives, because he has compassion for this poor unfortunate creature before him. A creature that is doomed to be nothing more than a collection of parts.

Many would be surprised to find that there is a whole world of woemen and girls who dedicate a significant portion of theri energy and emotions into the concept of story found in countless genres. These woman are often left out when you limit your definition of fangirl to geek or musik culture. This book is a tribute to my fiction-loving tribe. It's for the law student who unearths strength from the strut of a TV attorney. For the mother who unwinds with a glass of wine and a little bit of zombie apocalypse. For the teenage rwho points to a novel's heroine and says, "Yes. I'll have more of that please." To the woman and girls who get that forming online friendships isn't a symptom of isolation from reality but an opportunity to from commmon bonds that will cheer us through our victories and comfort us when life gets rough.

The things about you I appreciate May seem indelicate: I'd like to find you in the shower And chase the soap for half an hour. I'd like to have you in my power And see your eyes dilate. I'd like to have your back to scour And other parts to lubricate. Sometimes I feel it is my fate To chase you screaming up a tower Or make you cower By asking you to differentiate Nietzsche from Schopenhauer. I'd like successfully to guess your weight And win you at a fête. I'd like to offer you a flower. I like the hair upon your shoulders, Falling like water over boulders. I like the shoulders too: they are essential. Your collar-bones have great potential (I'd like your particulars in folders Marked Confidential). I like your cheeks, I like your nose, I like the way your lips disclose The neat arrangement of your teeth (Half above and half beneath) In rows. I like your eyes, I like their fringes. The way they focus on me gives me twinges. Your upper arms drive me berserk. I like the way your elbows work. On hinges … I like your wrists, I like your glands, I like the fingers on your hands. I'd like to teach them how to count, And certain things we might exchange, Something familiar for something strange. I'd like to give you just the right amount And get some change. I like it when you tilt your cheek up. I like the way you not and hold a teacup. I like your legs when you unwind them. Even in trousers I don't mind them. I like each softly-moulded kneecap. I like the little crease behind them. I'd always know, without a recap, Where to find them. I like the sculpture of your ears. I like the way your profile disappears Whenever you decide to turn and face me. I'd like to cross two hemispheres And have you chase me. I'd like to smuggle you across frontiers Or sail with you at night into Tangiers. I'd like you to embrace me. I'd like to see you ironing your skirt And cancelling other dates. I'd like to button up your shirt. I like the way your chest inflates. I'd like to soothe you when you're hurt Or frightened senseless by invertebrates. I'd like you even if you were malign And had a yen for sudden homicide. I'd let you put insecticide Into my wine. I'd even like you if you were Bride Of Frankenstein Or something ghoulish out of Mamoulian's Jekyll and Hyde. I'd even like you as my Julian Or Norwich or Cathleen ni Houlihan. How melodramatic If you were something muttering in attics Like Mrs Rochester or a student of Boolean Mathematics. You are the end of self-abuse. You are the eternal feminine. I'd like to find a good excuse To call on you and find you in. I'd like to put my hand beneath your chin, And see you grin. I'd like to taste your Charlotte Russe, I'd like to feel my lips upon your skin I'd like to make you reproduce. I'd like you in my confidence. I'd like to be your second look. I'd like to let you try the French Defence And mate you with my rook. I'd like to be your preference And hence I'd like to be around when you unhook. I'd like to be your only audience, The final name in your appointment book, Your future tense.

There are videos and books in her room to entertain her, but Miracolina has to laugh, because just as the harvest camp van had only happy, family-friendly movies, the titles she has to choose from here have a clear agenda as well. They’re all about kids being mistreated, but rising above it, or kids empowering themselves in a world that doesn’t understand them. Everything from Dickens to Salinger—as if Miracolina Roselli could possibly have anything in common with Holden Caulfield. ... Finally a bald middle-aged man comes in with a clipboard and a name tag that just says BOB. “I used to be a respected psychiatrist until I spoke out against unwinding,” Bob tells her after the obligatory introductions. “Being ostracized was a blessing in disguise, though, because it allowed me to come here, where I’m truly needed.” Miracolina keeps her arms folded, giving him nothing. She knows what this is all about. They call it “deprogramming,” which is a polite term for undoing brainwashing with more brainwashing.

Breastfeeding helps you unwind from a busy day’s work and reconnect with your baby, especially after a tense day.

She sat on the wall, opened her book, and paid him no mind. After a few minutes the sounds of clipping stopped, and she felt his gaze on her. She turned a page. “Jane,” he said with a touch of exasperation. “Shh, I’m reading,” she said. “Jane, listen, someone warned me that another fellow heard my telly playing and told Mrs. Wattlesbrook, and I had to toss it out this morning. If they spot me hanging around you..” “You’re not hanging around me, I’m reading.” “Bugger, Jane…” “Martin, please, I’m sorry about your TV but you can’t cast me away now. I’ll go raving mad if I have to sit in that house again all afternoon. I haven’t sewn a thing since junior high Home Ec when I made a pair of gray shorts that ripped at the butt seam the first time I sat down, and I haven’t played pianoforte since I quit from boredom at age twelve, and I haven’t read a book in the middle of the day since college, so you see what a mess I’m in.” “So,” Martin said, digging in his spade. “You’ve come to find me again when there is no one else to flirt with.” Huh! thought Jane. He snapped a dead branch off the trunk. Huh! she thought again. She stood and started to walk away. “Wait.” Martin hopped after her, grabbing her elbow. “I saw you with those actors, parading around the grounds this morning. I hadn’t seen you with them before. In the context. And it bothered me. I mean, you don’t really go in for this stuff, do you?” Jane shrugged. “You do?” “More than I want to, though you’ve been making it seem unnecessary lately.” Martin squinted up at a cloud. “I’ve never understood the women who come here, and you’re one of them. I can’t make sense of it.” “I don’t think I could explain it to a man. If you were a woman, all I’d have to say is ‘Colin Firth in a wet shirt’ and you’d say, ‘Ah.’” “Ah. I mean, aha! is what I mean.” Crap. She’d hoped he would laugh at the Colin Firth thing. And he didn’t. And now the silence made her feel as though she were standing on a seesaw, waiting for the weight to drop on the other side. Then she smelled it. The musty, acrid, sour, curdled, metallic, decaying odor of ending. This wasn’t just a first fight. She’d been in this position too many times not to recognize the signs. “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked. “Were we ever together enough to require breaking up?” Oh. Ouch. She took a step back on that one. Perhaps it was her dress that allowed her to compose herself more quickly than normal. She curtsied. “Pardon the interruption, I mistook you for someone I knew.” She turned and left, wishing for a Victorian-type gown so she could have whipped the full skirts for a satisfying little cracking sound. She had to satisfy herself with emphatically tightening her bonnet ribbon as she marched. You stupid, stupid girl, she thought. You were fantasizing again. Stop it! It had all been going so well. She’d let herself have fun, unwind, not plague a new romance with constant questions such as, What if? And after? And will he love me forever? “Are you breaking up with me…?” she muttered to herself. He must think she was a lunatic. And really, he’d be right. Here she was in Pembrook Park, a place where women hand over scads of dough to hook up with men paid to adore them, but she finds the one man on campus who’s in a position to reject her and then leads him into it. Typical Jane.

Je pense, donc je mens. I think, therefore I lie. She heard the words in Sabine’s voice, but the thought was her own. Perhaps the only thing she truly owned in this counterfeit world.

You can deal with this conflict by categorizing decisions as either reversible decisions or irreversible decisions. Irreversible decisions are hard if not impossible to unwind. And they tend to be really important. Think of selling your business or having a kid.

There was enough going on in the everyday world to scare a body to death. She sat behind the counter at Vèvè, perusing the journal, wondering what in the hell was wrong with people. People with guns in their hands. People without love in their hearts. People who still—honest to God—thought their damned race made them innately superior to others. People who cared more about winning than even their own best interests, happy to follow red-faced religious hypocrites and fat, lying politicians through the gates of hell itself, if it meant they got to brag about beating everyone else there.

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Sometimes the best way to relax, unwind, and get everything straightened out... is to curl up with a good book. – Douglas Pagels, from 100 Things to Always Remember and One Thing to Never Forget Give something of yourself to the day... even if it’s just a smile to someone walking the other way. – Douglas Pagels, from 100 Things to Always Remember and One Thing to Never Forget Even if you can’t just snap your fingers and make a dream come true, you can travel in the direction of your dream, every single day, and you can keep shortening the distance between the two of you. – Douglas Pagels, from 100 Things to Always Remember and One Thing to Never Forget Rest assured that, whenever you need them, your guardian angels are great about working overtime. – Douglas Pagels, from A Special Christmas Blessing Just for You Never forget what a treasure you are. That special person in the mirror may not always get to hear all the compliments you so sweetly deserve, but you are so worthy of such an abundance... of friendship, joy, and love. – Douglas Pagels, from You Are One Amazing Lady I love that I get to wake up every morning in a world that has people like you in it. – Douglas Pagels, from You Are One Amazing Lady Be someone who doesn’t make your guardian angel work too hard or worry too much. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Each day is a blank page in the diary of your life. Every day, you’re given a chance to determine what the words will say and how the story will unfold. The more rewarding you can make each page, the more amazing the entire book will be. And I would love for you to write a masterpiece. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Practice your tree pose. I want you to have a goal of finding a way to bring everything in your life into balance. Let the roots of all your dreams go deep. Let the hopes of all your tomorrows grow high. Bend, but don’t break. Take the seasons as they come. Stick up for yourself. And reach for the sky. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Remember that a new morning is good medicine... and one of the joys of life is realizing that you have the ability to make this a really great day. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Find comfort in knowing that “rising above” is something you can always find a way to do. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Look up “onward” in the thesaurus and utilize every one of those synonyms whenever you’re wondering which direction to go in. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Don’t judge yourself – love yourself. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! If you have a choice between a la-di-da life and an ooh-la-la! one, well... you know what to do. Choose the one that requires you to dust off your dancing shoes. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life! Write out your own definition of success. Fill it with a mix of stardust and wishes and down-to-earth things, and provide all the insight you can give it. Imagine what it takes to have a really happy, rewarding life. And then go out... and live it. – Douglas Pagels, from Wishing You a Happy, Successful, Incredible Life!

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to end boredom or to unwind and get lost in a fantasy. Whatever the purpose, there is a purpose—even if you don’t consciously recognize

The purpose of reading for the next few hours is to unwind, relax, and get lost in the author’s

Harvard-trained psychologist Dr Borysenko, in her book Fried, suggests that overwork is a symptom of denial – a denial of reality leading to frustration, cynicism, inner emptiness and eventually, physical and mental collapse. ‘Burn-out is a disorder of hope’, explains Borysenko, that ‘sucks the life out of competent, hard-working people’.

The phenomenon of burnout has given rise to a multimillion-dollar industry of self-help to counter its negative effects. Vinkers takes a more skeptical view and believes that simple life lessons like “Spend more time doing nothing” are not very effective. He and the philosopher Jeroen de Ridder wrote that “[self-help] tips, however well-intentioned, are useless: You wouldn’t tell a soldier suffering from PTSD to eat more healthily or a single mother in a poor neighborhood to find a hobby.” We are all different, living different lives, and we have different responses to stressful problems. There is no ready-made solution. That’s why we’re drowning in self-help books.

do you ever get bored waiting for the rest of the room to catch up with you?

I exist through you! An existence like a fluid, Where everything assumes the shape of desires, The heart keeps beating and thoughts keep arising, While passions do not settle and rage like wildfires, Dreams float in an ocean of fluid imaginations, Mountains gaze at the stars tirelessly, Hoping they would fall somehow and tumble over its edges, And in hope of the stars, and the mountain peaks, I climb the mountains of my life relentlessly, The moonlight shines over the summit, But in a while the summit vanishes and the mountain is gone, In this fluid world only your thoughts have a reliable permanence, Desires in the ocean of imagination take dips of hope all alone, To retrieve the wet feelings of your kiss and those wet moments of romance, The sky sometimes looks at me and feels sad and develops an unknown urge, Maybe, it is just a false impression of my mind, But it is true in your absence the ocean of fluid desires tends to get deeper and feels like a dirge, And over its ripples, waves, and million whirling cones they try to unwind, But then fluidity comes with inherent uncertainty, And a desire that exists as a memory of summer or anything that is not bound to you Irma, eventually tends to fuse with your memories too, And in this vast and deep ocean of fluidity, Then you and your memories spread everywhere, They now govern the principles of fluid desires in the ocean of fluid wishes, Where every desire begins with you only to end with you, And as waves of my fluid existence cascade through the unknown plains of life where everything perishes, My mountains of desires and your memories Irma, always remind them of you, Those wet feelings, our feelings, that sank to the bottom of this ocean, Raise its volume of sentiment and emotional viscosity, Then the fluid motion somehow stops to move and everything gets stranded in this still state of the ocean, But I get carried to the middle of this world of our desires, our wishes, our kisses and they engulf me in their enormity, And I gradually spread my arms wide, To let this fluid world of existence circle me, The moon disappears, the stars turn fainter and the night turns dark in this still ocean wide, As these wet kisses, wet desires stir again, they flow through me, And I become a fluid entity myself in this fluid world of desires, Then the mountains fall, stars tumble and the sky collapses too, Because now it is just you and only you, in this world of fluid desires, Where I exist, but now only through you! The ocean of fluid imaginations finally enters into a restive state, As my fluid existence bonds with your wet kisses and wet desires, The wet kisses splash over me in this tempest of fluid desires and now neither you nor I am a desire innate!

And Isabella made a noise, just a slight noise. And at that, I began to unwind

discrete

running her hand over the painted wall with avarice delight.

Cannot you be more gentile than this in mixed company?

Can you be strong? Strong enough to let go of what you know isn’t good for you, even if it feels right? Even if it feels comforting?” He smiled and took her by the chin once more, this time making her nod. “Yes, you are,” he said. She hoped it was true.

Oh, sure, she’d heard that little voice in the back of her mind chattering away and clanging cymbals like a windup toy monkey, but that hadn’t stopped her.

Sugar could cross the barrier because, well, she was a cat. It was no accident that witches and cats had come to associate with each other.

Madness may not be the source of magic, but it is a gateway.

I am the balm for your suffering

He’s still due a bit of comeuppance, then, but karma never seems to distribute itself evenly.

If he had been born out of darkness, he questioned, how could he be innocent?

The dotted white line on the road maddened her. It indicated that she could change lanes at any time, but that was clearly a lie.

Right or wrong, he’d have to face up to the reality that her heart came used, as-is, and without warranties

vèvè over and over again, until she could do

I’ll always speak the truth to you,” Fleur said. “That’s the ‘bitch’ part. I’ll earn the ‘presumptuous’ by assuming you’ll always want to hear it.

Dark of the moon.

They all needed the darkness Evangeline carried in her.

They couldn’t force her to act. But they could try torturing her until she acted willingly, if only to stop the pain.

A homesickness that isn’t the result of wanderlust, but is instead a reaction to abandonment, to seeing “home” ripped away.

has been gone—like second-act Peggy Schuyler gone—for months.

I don’t expect forgiveness. That’s too much to hope for. I was corruptible, and I was corrupted.

Whore. A catchall insult for any woman who won’t do as she’s told.

A book,” Astrid said, “isn’t a book until it’s freed from the mind that carries it.