Wyle Quotes

I remember that story. You have read it four times." Samson shrugged. "Why should I stop with the first reading? Nobody says, 'That was a fine piece of music. I'll never listen to that again." But some people treat books that way. Not I!

I’d never gone out with anyone because I’d never met anyone I might want to go out with. There seemed to be no way that could happen. Boys from the Wyle School were not possible: I’d gone through grade school with them, I’d seen them pick their noses, and some of them had been pants-wetters. You can’t feel romantic with those images in your mind.

Boys from the Wyle School were not possible: I’d gone through grade school with them, I’d seen them pick their noses, and some of them had been pants-wetters. You can’t feel romantic with those images in your mind.

For now, as he drifted toward dreaming, what came to him were not images of grappling and lust, but a sort of phantom copy of the bed where he lay, a dream of future days where he shared such a bed with a woman who had a claim on him, and who claimed him in return.

Life can be stressful! When the world Shouts "Chaos" God's messages of Love whisper "Seek My Peace" Encourage Children to search out God's Blessings in life!

Joshua Gibbs felt sun on his face and thought about opening his eyes. He decided to wait. He had some blessings to savor that wouldn’t need sight.

He took her hand in both of his, feeling the warmth of it and the strength of her fine, long fingers. He was rather loath to let go and be escorted out.

Audrey, how exactly have yo been entertaining?" "Um... I gave Mickey a reading." "I thought we were sticking with Wyle," he said. "Mickey is less threatening," I told him. "My mom's a little vulnerable right now. She turns forty next month." She sounded strangled. "Audrey. Room. Now." Oh well. I already had a talk in store. I gave her a quick salute, then leaned in close to whisper. "Be careful, Mom. He's totally on to you.

Joshua levered himself out of bed. He’d shave, get dressed, and take a walk with Major before frying himself some breakfast. As a boy, if he could have even imagined himself so old as thirty-three, he’d have assumed he’d be leaving a wife behind staying warm in bed or making breakfast, or better yet, accompanying him on his morning amble. But things change. War changes them. And solitude suited him, these days.

Now do you want me to give you something that’ll help you, or would you rather move into the outhouse and try to shoe horses there?

There was no one waiting, but before Joshua had time to do more than take a book down from the shelf, the door opened and a woman walked in. No, more like sailed in, a proud vessel, a four-master.

The moment the spoon clinked the bottom of the bowl, she grabbed the bowl and filled it back up to the brim. “Eat, eat!” He was feeling full to the brim himself, but he thought it likely that if he dared to stop before the bowl was empty again, she would seize the spoon and feed him like an infant. He made his way manfully through.

She leaned against the wall and looked down at him, shaking her head. “Out in all hours and all weather, and he comes home to nothing!” Joshua shrugged. He had a good idea where this was going. “So where’s Mrs. Doctor? You need to get married!

All through his childhood, he had wished he had brothers instead of, or in addition to, three sisters. That wish, too, had died in the war.

He had brought his bone saw in its leather case. And his white linen smock, the one he used to save his clothes when he had dirty work in store, and would have Li Chang wash and bleach after. An amputation would be the dirtiest work there was. He remembered the smocks the surgeons wore, layer on layer of red, dried blood darker under fresh red splashes, with the occasional white splinter of bone. Joshua prayed as he rode, prayed hard and desperately, prayed that the smock in his bag would be clean and white when he turned homeward.

It shouldn’t surprise him that she quilted. And helped run the library. And made dresses. And tried to find him a wife. No wonder she was short of breath sometimes — she never slowed down.

Waterloo teeth, so named for the battle when the first human vultures thought of raiding the bodies of the dead for the teeth in their jaws, selling the teeth for dentures.

He had certainly never met a woman with such an inclination toward frankness. It left him somewhat at a loss for words.

He had barely had time to sit down at his desk before new footsteps approached. Joshua rolled the kinks out of his neck and arose to welcome the new patient. But when the door opened, Clara Brook stepped in looking the picture of health, her cheeks pink from fresh air and her bonnet slightly askew as if the spring breezes had been tugging at it.

Joshua took a gulp of his own brew. “Need I have some other cause, when this plague could devastate so many of my patients and neighbors? When, if some of the reports prove true, we might see the town reduced painfully in size, as farmers abandon their holdings and flee to the East?” If the thought of one particular family leaving town, of Clara Brook’s tall figure climbing aboard a wagon and vanishing beyond the horizon, gave him a peculiar twinge, he was hardly obliged to say so.

He staggered and might have toppled sideways if Clara had not been there, grabbing his arm and steadying him. He turned toward her and saw her read, and then reflect, the anguish in his face. Her grip on his arm went from support to a more frantic clutch. She said under her breath, “You can get through this.” And after a long, shaky breath: “I’ll get you through it.” But her hand was trembling on his arm.

He kept eating, with a stubborn determination like something in a dream, until he heard the door open and close again. There was still some soup in the bowl. He set it on the floor for Major, let his head fall into his hands, and sobbed like a broken-hearted child. Or like a young man, barely more than a boy, waking up with only half a leg.

Joshua awoke, sat up slowly, and looked around the railroad car. No ghosts, no trauma, nothing but Clara sleeping in apparent peace in the berth below him, and curtains growing bright with morning light.