Zee World Quotes

What makes you think a girl like me and a boy like you can figure out what nobody else in history has ever really figured out?” “Because only a boy like me and a girl like you could ever figure this out.

We creoles are so different, one from the other, that it's hard for us to mix properly amongst ourselves, let alone among Carib people who have a lot more things in common. Maybe its because Carib people remind us of what we lost trying to get up in the world. See, in the old days, according to Granny Straker, the more you left behind the old ways, the more acceptable you were to the powerful people in the government and the churches who had the power to change a black person's life.

To live in a world of female power—mutual power—felt like a desirable dream to Zee. Having power meant that the world was like a pasture with the gate left open, and that there was nothing stopping you, and you could run and run.

Now, my all-time favorite accolade from a book reviewer was when Fernanda Pivano, Italy’s best-known critic, wrote in a leading Italian newspaper that “Tom Robbins is the most dangerous writer in the world.” I never read my reviews, even in English, but others sometimes pass choice bits along, so when I had occasion to meet the legendary Signora Pivano at a reception in Milan, I asked her what she meant by that wonderfully flattering remark. She replied, “Because you are saying zat love is zee only thing that matters and everything else eese a beeg joke.” Well, being uncertain, frankly, that is what I’d been saying, I changed the subject and inquired about her recent public denial that she’d ever gone to bed with Ernest Hemingway, whom she’d shown around Italy in the thirties. “Why didn’t you sleep with Hemingway?” I inquired. Signora Pivano sighed, closed her large brown eyes, shook her gray head, and answered in slow, heavily accented English, “I was a fool.” Okay, back to the New York Cinematheque. Why did I choose to go watch a bunch of jerky, esoteric, often self-indulgent 16mm movies rather than sleep with the sexy British actress? Move over, Fernanda, there’s room for two fools on your bus.

I love the wild things, and the birds most of all. My education began, I am sure, the moment I was pushed free of the womb by Mother, born on Prade Ranch in the back bedroom on a late afternoon in early March-the seventh of March which is when the golden-cheeked warblers usually return to Prade Ranch after wintering down in Mexico. There would have been doves calling, as if to counter Mother's gasps and cries, and the flylike buzz of the hummingbirds (the aggressive black-chinned ones making most of the racket) at the nectar feeders just outside the open window. There would have been a breeze stirring the lace curtains. Father in the room with the doctor, and Grandfather and Chubb on the back porch, waiting for this next new part of the world to begin. Grandfather said he knew that was going to be the day, not just because of the golden-cheeked warblers' return, but because he'd heard a vermilion flycatcher buzzing-pit-zee,pit-zee-all the day before, and on into the night, well past midnight-the only time he's ever heard of that, before or since.

What exactly is this energy—and will I learn to control it?” “We call it Ousia.” “Oo-what?” “OO-ZEE-AH. “It means the Essence. Once you are trained, you will be able to control it.” It sounds a lot like the Jedi Force. “Where does it come from?” “It is all around us. Human scientists call it dark energy.” “Oh. I’ve read about that. But it’s theoretical. It’s never been seen.” “That’s why they call it dark,” he says with a tilt of his head.

I grinned and went back to work. Zee broke first. By lunchtime, though, we were both humming the stupid song. An hour later, to change things up, I sang the first line of “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini,” and our earworm grew by one. The phone rang as Zee was fighting back with “It’s a Small World,” which was cheating.

I mean what I said. This ‘poor little orphan boy with nothing tethering him to this world’ shit.” Zee looked sharply at Cyrus. “You know I have your cum on my chest, right? Like, right now this second? While you opine about how nobody will care if you kill yourself?

The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless. ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Hoe snel de politieke en sociale veranderingen zich ook voltrekken, het belet u niet om te leven, aan andere dingen te denken of aan helemaal niets, te wandelen in de bossen, te zwemmen in zee, het theater of de opera te bezoeken, boeken te lezen, u te vermaken en te lachen. Terwijl stormen en omwentelingen om me heen razen, zet ik mijn weg gewoon verder. Tijdens de werken blijft de zaak geopend.

Oh, he was so dashing and romantic and cast-out by the world, I couldn’t help but love him. […] He was a figure out of a girl’s storybook. Gentle, adoring, dangerous, strong. Surely you must have felt the same things. He has a magic about him. He steps straight into your heart.

Thick as spleen soup.

We can't sit down and keep rehashing what people did to us in the past, Ma, or use those injustices as any kind of complete excuse for our present situation. Every people have some kind of grievance. Fighting for our rights is a natural thing, but things don't often go according to rights, and rights have to be maintained one way or another. My main worry is, will we be able to hold onto our rights once we get them? Only the good-will of the world will help us do that in our present situation.