欧宝娱乐

“God, how we get our fingers in each other's clay. That's friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make of each other.”
― Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

“We scarified a mosquito. I bet that's what did it. It was probably a virgin too.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Broken

“At school, our classroom had a small rodent zoo consisting of two rabbits, three hamsters, a litter of baby gerbils and a guinea pig. At first, I鈥檇 thought the teacher was raising snack food, which impressed me, being the first sign of intelligence she鈥檇 shown. Soon, though, I鈥檇 figured out the animals鈥� true purpose and left them alone, though I would never understand the appeal of petting and coddling perfectly good food.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Men of the Otherworld

“Xavier leaned forward. "Sarcasm aside, you don't need a guy like that, Elena. Maybe you think you do - only female werewolf and all that - but hell, I've seen what you can do - tied to a chair, up against a male werewolf. You can do that, you don't need some fucking psychopath like Clayton Danvers-"
He stopped, noticing my gaze.
"He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" Xavier muttered.
"Uh-huh."
Xaview tilted his head back, saw Clay, and disappeared. He reappeared on the opposite bench, pressed up against me. I looked over at him, eyebrow raised. He swore under his breath and teleported to the far end of the other bench. Then he stood and turned to Clay.
"You must be-"
"The fucking psychopath," Clay said.
"Er, right, but I meant that in the most respectful way. Believe me, I have the utmost regard for, uh..."
"Raging lunatics," I said.
Xavier shot me a glare.
"Oh sit down," I said. "He didn't bring his chain saw.”
― Kelley Armstrong

“Closed door means knock," Elena said to Clay, shooing him out.
You've been in here for two hours," he said. "She can't need that much work." He frowned as he examined my outfit. "What the hell is she? A tree?"
"A dryad," Elena said, cuffing him in the arm.
"Oh, my god," Jamie said, surveying my outfit. "We forgot the bag!"
"Bag?" Clay said. "What does a dryad need with-"
"An evening bag," Cassandra said. "A purse."
"She's got a purse. It's right there on the bed."
"That's a day purse," Cassandra snapped.
"What, do they expire when the sun goes down?”
― Kelley Armstrong, Industrial Magic

“But you don't need anything. You have everything,' I tell him.
Rip looks at me. 'No I don't.'
'What?'
'No I don't.'
There's a pause and then I ask, 'Oh, shit, Rip, What don't you have?'
'I don't have anything to loose.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

“Perfect night, wasn't it?"

"It could have been." I smiled up at him. "But you were there.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Bitten

“What's the woman doing there?" he asked.

"Covering a scratch on the hood. She was cheaper than a new paint job."

He flipped through a few more pages of barely dressed women and classic cars. "Nick used to have magazines like this when we were kids. But without the cars." He rotated a photo sideways. "Or the bathing suits.”
― kelley armstrong, Bitten

“As I recall, I was still dressed when I fell asleep."

"Just making sure you were comfortable."

"And making yourself equally comfortable, I see.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Bitten

“Next Clay gave the house rules for living with theSorrentinos , which sounded a lot like the Ten
Commandments. Thou shall not lie, steal anything, kill anyone, disrespect your hosts or covet
any of Nick's girlfriends. And if you break the rules, you'll get your ass kicked and handed to you
in pieces鈥攁 part I suspect God left out.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Frostbitten

“I come to a red light, tempted to go through it, then stop once I see a billboard sign that I don鈥檛 remember seeing and I look up at it. All it says is 'Disappear Here' and even though it鈥檚 probably an ad for some resort, it still freaks me out a little and I step on the gas really hard and the car screeches as I leave the light.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

“About Daniel: Two, he hates Clay
*
Five, he really hates Clay.
*
Nine, he really, really, REALLY hates Clay.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Bitten

“Elena?"
"Yes, unless Nick found a woman in the forest, which I suppose wouldn't be too surprising.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Frostbitten

“The Mercy of Allah is an Ocean, Our sins are a lump of clay clenched between the beak of a pigeon. The pigeon is perched on the branch of a tree at the edge of that ocean.It only has to open it's beak”
― Leila Aboulela, Minaret

“Within the shadows of honor, courage often walks in silence.

-Engraved on the monument Clay built”
― Lorraine Heath, Always to Remember

“Bigger room, darling. Like I said, we need a bigger room.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Frostbitten

“Wish all my corpses would do that.”
― Kelley Armstrong, Broken

“I have come to see this fear, this sense of my own imperilment by my creations, as not only an inevitable, necessary part of writing fiction but as virtual guarantor, insofar as such a thing is possible, of the power of my work: as a sign that I am on the right track, that I am following the recipe correctly, speaking the proper spells. Literature, like magic, has always been about the handling of secrets, about the pain, the destruction and the marvelous liberation that can result when they are revealed. Telling the truth, when the truth matters most, is almost always a frightening prospect. If a writer doesn鈥檛 give away secrets, his own or those of the people he loves; if she doesn鈥檛 court disapproval, reproach and general wrath, whether of friends, family, or party apparatchiks; if the writer submits his work to an internal censor long before anyone else can get their hands on it, the result is pallid, inanimate, a lump of earth. The adept handles the rich material, the rank river clay, and diligently intones his alphabetical spells, knowing full well the history of golems: how they break free of their creators, grow to unmanageable size and power, refuse to be controlled. In the same way, the writer shapes his story, flecked like river clay with the grit of experience and rank with the smell of human life, heedless of the danger to himself, eager to show his powers, to celebrate his mastery, to bring into being a little world that, like God鈥檚, is at once terribly imperfect and filled with astonishing life.


Originally published in The Washington Post Book World”
― Michael Chabon

“What do you do?' she asks, holding out the vest.
'What do you do?'
'What do you do?' she asks, her voice shaking. 'Don't ask me, please. Okay, Clay?'
'Why not?'
She sits on the mattress after I get up. Muriel screams.
'Because... I don't know,' she sighs.
I look at her and don't feel anything and walk out with my vest.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

“Let's get outta here. Or I'm gonna put my mouth on you right here. I鈥檝e been fantasizing 鈥榖out tasting you since Thanksgiving.鈥� ~ Clay”
― Kele Moon, Defying the Odds

“I feel 鈥� everything,鈥� he finally says. 鈥淓very blade of grass, every drop of rain, every centimeter of sunbaked clay. I am the storm that rolls in, I am the wind that carries the bird and the butterfly.”
― Laura Thalassa, Famine

“God cuts out our path, makes a groove in the clay with His finger, and we poor blind ants slide down into it.”
― Maria McCann, As Meat Loves Salt

“If water could be shaped like clay, then swimming ducks would be master sculptors. If I were to commission a statue of myself, I'd hire splashing ducks at play.”
― Jarod Kintz, Ducks are the stars of the karaoke bird world

“We're all diamonds in the rough until God gets His hands on us".

~R. Alan Woods [1984]”
― R. Alan Woods, The Journey Is The Destination: A Photo Journal

“Meg felt her heart lurch. It bothered her that the twins realized that she hated their brother. The words coming from their innocent mouths sounded so ugly.”
― Lorraine Heath, Always to Remember

“Water doesn鈥檛 shape like clay when you move it with your hands. I've spent a lot of time swimming, and none of my motion art stayed in place. All my aqua sculpting rippled into the future, never to be seen again.”
― Jarod Kintz, The Lewis and Clark of The Ozarks

“Land, like your body

is clay.”
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta

“Terre Hill received an official nod by the United States Coast And Geodetic Survey, USC&GS, or just simply CGS, in the form of a permanent bronze marker in 1934. The Terre Hill survey markers have been officially recovered, or found, only four times since 1934. Unofficially the station has been logged three more times by geocachers using the NGS datasheets for reference.”
― Patrick R.F. Blakley, Terre Hill, Woodard, New York State: Surrounding History & Exploration

“Dreams are the clay through which we mold our art.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, The Oneironaut鈥檚 Diary

“Trust His sovereignty at all times, let not the clay question the Potter.”
― Royal Raj S