Kyra Guilfoil > Kyra's Quotes

“Everybody has scars, and every scar has a story. Especially the ones you don’t see. Those go deeper. And cause more damage.”
― Lotchie Burton, Gabriel's Fire

“What is she looking for?  She thought she had found it with Kyle.  But maybe she hadn’t. Perhaps she was looking for stability, security, sameness because her growing-up years had seemed so fragmented, and she often felt unsure of how she fit in.  Maybe stability isn’t all she is looking for.”
― Dawn Chalker, Lost and Found

“He desperately tried to think of a story to explain his involvement in her sudden appearance, without mentioning the book of magic in his possession.
 ”
― Max Nowaz, The Three Witches and the Master

“It is weird that the same two parents can come together and make two such different people.”
― Sara Pascoe, Weirdo: 'Intense, also BRILLIANT, funny and forensically astute.' Marian Keyes

“If your world is out there and you are in here then the only things that will gather within these walls are time and bitterness. Eventually, that bitterness will eat away at you and leave nothing behind but resentment and hate.”
― R.D. Ronald, The Zombie Room

“The dream of all peoples—a world without weapons, a world without wars—despite any initiatives, no matter whether they are strategic or not, is only a utopia within the contemporary content of the State. Nowadays, the State is the biggest, the most powerful criminal organization of continuous robbery of social labor. The State is a mafia today, in which the basic principle is the “law” omertá—“who’s not mum, is dead!” Now the State is the final phase of the organized criminality. It is “a conspiracy of the rich” (Thomas More), where because of the judicial astrology, “in every situation, powerful rogues know how to save themselves at the expense of the feeble” (Jean-Jacque Rousseau). Until now, the class society represents a power of one family that divided for itself the state as private property!”
― Todor Bombov, Socialism Is Dead! Long Live Socialism!: The Marx Code-Socialism with a Human Face

“I walked past Malison, up Lower Main to Main and across the road. I didn’t need to look to know he was behind me. I entered Royal Wood, went a short way along a path and waited. It was cool and dim beneath the trees. When Malison entered the Wood, I continued eastward. 
I wanted to place his body in hallowed ground. He was born a Mearan. The least I could do was send him to Loric. The distance between us closed until he was on my heels. He chose to come, I told myself, as if that lessened the crime I planned. He chose what I have to offer.
We were almost to the cemetery before he asked where we were going. I answered with another question. “Do you like living in the High Lord’s kitchens?”
He, of course, replied, “No.”
“Well, we’re going to a better place.”
When we reached the edge of the Wood, I pushed aside a branch to see the Temple of Loric and Calec’s cottage. No smoke was coming from the chimney, and I assumed the old man was yet abed. His pony was grazing in the field of graves. The sun hid behind a bank of clouds.
Malison moved beside me. “It’s a graveyard.”
“Are you afraid of ghosts?” I asked.
“My father’s a ghost,” he whispered.
I asked if he wanted to learn how to throw a knife. He said, “Yes,” as I knew he would.  He untucked his shirt, withdrew the knife he had stolen and gave it to me. It was a thick-bladed, single-edged knife, better suited for dicing celery than slitting a young throat. But it would serve my purpose. That I also knew. I’d spent all night projecting how the morning would unfold and, except for indulging in the tea, it had happened as I had imagined. 
Damut kissed her son farewell. Malison followed me of his own free will. Without fear, he placed the instrument of his death into my hand. We were at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The stolen knife was warm from the heat of his body. I had only to use it. Yet I hesitated, and again prayed for Sythene to show me a different path.
“Aren’t you going to show me?” Malison prompted, as if to echo my prayer.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“Deliverance is not scary—it is the most beautiful, loving act of Jesus. It is the moment someone finally walks into the freedom that was always meant for them.”
― Kathryn Krick, Unlock Your Deliverance: Keys to Freedom From Demonic Oppression

“It occurred to me then, like one of those moments I’d remember years from now . . . the crisp November air, the amber-colored field lights so bright they eclipsed the moon. The electricity of the win suffusing every breath, every cell, every particle of the world that was Vanquer, Texas . . . 
Everyone has a story.”
― J. Rose Black, Chasing Headlines

“What’s your version of old-fashioned discipline?”
“A belt across the back! I felt the belt a few times growing up. Didn’t hurt the way I turned out.”
― Shafter Bailey, Cindy Divine: The Little Girl Who Frightened Kings

“Before going to breakfast, you are in your
room experiencing the gongs of a classic religious
bell, a unique and cuddly invitation to the morning meditation session. In ten minutes it will be 7:00 a.m.—dawn’s brisk reminder that life will never be easy. Mornings are a bit cruel.”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“In every situation, there’s never a shortage of people who will covertly promote their own best interest.. with diligence.”
― T. Rafael Cimino, A Battle of Angels

“Beckett: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
― Harold Bloom, The Daemon Knows: Literary Greatness and the American Sublime

“It was the moment it all ended for me, and I wouldn’t have wanted her to go through that. Being the survivor stinks.”
― Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants

“His gold eyes grew very soft. “You said you loved me.”
“You knew that already,” I reminded him, ducking my head.
“It was nice to hear, just the same.”
I hid my face against his shoulder.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“You are my life now,” he answered simply.
There was nothing more to say for the moment. He rocked us back and forth as the room grew lighter.”
― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

“people sometimes mistake their own shortcomings for those of society and want to fix the Cities because they don’t know how to fix themselves.”
― Isaac Asimov, The Caves of Steel

“Scream in despair over Meat and Metal Microphone”
― Allen Ginsberg, The Fall of America: Poems of These States 1965-1971