Drama
Quotes - This world would be a pleasant place if people didn’t inhabit it
“I
never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to
read in the train.”
―
Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest
“It
was only a smile, nothing more. It didn't make everything all right. It didn't
make ANYTHING all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. A leaf in the woods,
shaking in the wake of a startled bird's flight. But I'll take it. With open arms.
Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I
just witnessed the first flake melting. - Amir”
―
Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner
“ In 1658, Francis Andrew Ransome stole the
Alchemy Scroll from St. Julian’s college, my present employer. Ransome was a
member of a transatlantic group called The Invisible College. They were
alchemists, meaning they worked with matter and spirit together.”
―
Susan Rowland, The Alchemy Fire Murder
“No
amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his
ghostly heart.”
― F.
Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
“Aurelia
was just about to take a sip of a mimosa when Mother Guardian snatched the
flute away and promptly downed the drink in one gulp. Burping unashamedly, she
said, "We can't have the validity of the marriage contracts jeopardized
because the bride got rat-assed on her wedding day.”
―
Therisa Peimer, Taming Flame
“I
just wanted to tell you that I understand if you go. It’s okay if you have to
leave us. It’s okay if you want to stop fighting.”
―
Gayle Forman, If I Stay
“Part
of the hem floated loose. She spun around again—the fabric tightened like wool
on a spindle. She breathed in fear. The boat was farther away. She swung her
head around—so was the shore.”
―
Yvonne Korshak, Pericles and Aspasia: A Story of Ancient Greece
“People
don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas.
their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because
what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown.”
―
Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor
“Which
is the greater sin? To care too much? Or too little?”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“Whither
be the heart of Justice?
Lo, in stone, child. Lo, in stone.
Whither be the heart of Justice?
Lo, tis fast in stone.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“The
early women rise before I do. Their lamps splinter the gloom of the kitchens.
They chatter in whispers as they brew tea for the cooks. Windows are open to
counter the heat of the ovens. Outside, the sky is as black as my soul.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“Buying
loyalty can be as effective as fear when one’s rival is poorer than oneself.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“Gossip
is like thread wound over a spindle of truth, changing its shape.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“This
evening I spied her in the back orchard. I decided to sacrifice one of my
better old shirts and carried it out to her. The weather’s been warm of late.
Buds on the apple trees are ready to burst. Usually by this time of the year,
at that time of day, the back orchard is full of screaming children. Damut’s
boys were the only two. They were on the terrace below her, running through the
slanted sunlight, chasing each other around tree trunks. She stood above them,
like a merlin watching rabbits play.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“At
what point does faith become insanity?”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“If
one does not react to gossip, the informer hushes more quickly.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“Mead.
O
sweet elixir,
Ye
bless the lips and steal the wits.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“This
world would be a pleasant place if people didn’t inhabit it.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
“Snake
Street is an area I should avoid. Yet that night I was drawn there as surely as
if I had an appointment.
The
Snake House is shabby on the outside to hide the wealth within. Everyone knows
of the wealth, but facades, like the park’s wall, must be maintained. A lantern
hung from the porch eaves. A sign, written in Utte, read ‘Kinship of the
Serpent’. I stared at that sign, at that porch, at the door with its twisted
handle, and wondered what the people inside would do if I entered. Would they
remember me? Greet me as Kin? Or drive me out and curse me for faking my
death? Worse, would they expect me to
redon the life I’ve shed? Staring at that sign, I pissed in the street like the
Mearan savage I’ve become.
As I
started to leave, I saw a woman sitting in the gutter. Her lamp attracted me. A
memsa’s lamp, three tiny flames to signify the Holy Trinity of Faith, Purity,
and Knowledge. The woman wasn’t a memsa.
Her young face was bruised and a gash on her throat had bloodied her clothing.
Had she not been calmly assessing me, I would have believed the wound to be
mortal. I offered her a copper.
She
refused, “I take naught for naught,” and began to remove trinkets from a cloth
bag, displaying them for sale.
Her
Utte accent had been enough to earn my coin. But to assuage her pride I
commented on each of her worthless treasures, fighting the urge to speak Utte.
(I spoke Universal with the accent of an upper class Mearan though I wondered
if she had seen me wetting the cobblestones like a shameless commoner.) After
she had arranged her wares, she looked up at me. “What do you desire, O Noble
Born?”
I
laughed, certain now that she had seen my act in front of the Snake House and,
letting my accent match the coarseness of my dress, I again offered the copper.
“Nay, Noble One. You must choose.” She lifted
a strand of red beads. “These to adorn your lady’s bosom?”
I shook my head. I wanted her lamp.
But to steal the light from this woman ... I couldn’t ask for it. She reached
into her bag once more and withdrew a book, leather-bound, the pages gilded on
the edges. “Be this worthy of desire, Noble Born?”
I stood stunned a moment, then touched the
crescent stamped into the leather and asked if she’d stolen the book. She
denied it. I’ve had the Training; she spoke truth. Yet how could she have come
by a book bearing the Royal Seal of the Haesyl Line? I opened it. The pages
were blank.
“Take
it,” she urged. “Record your deeds for study. Lo, the steps of your life mark
the journey of your soul.”
I told her I couldn’t afford the book, but
she smiled as if poverty were a blessing and said, “The price be one copper.
Tis a wee price for salvation, Noble One.”
So I bought this journal. I hide it under my
mattress. When I lie awake at night, I feel the journal beneath my back and
think of the woman who sold it to me. Damn her. She plagues my soul. I promised
to return the next night, but I didn’t. I promised to record my deeds. But I
can’t. The price is too high.”
― K.
Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master
