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“And I didn't think even eternity would be long enough to fix me.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I had had the job for three weeks. It was dreary. You couldn't read; they didn't like it. I would feel as if I were drugged, sitting there, watching those damned dolls, thinking what a success they would have made of their lives if they had been women. Satin skin, silk hair, velvet eyes, sawdust heart - all complete.”
― Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight

“People say - popular culture advocates - government demands that we sell our souls, for nothing but the cheapest of baubles and bling, if even that. If you do sell, the result is a gray, cheerless, and dreary existence.”
― Mike Klepper

“Life can be wearisome and dreary because the world is indifferent to us.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“When you do good things for people, you’ve created something to cherish and bank on the memory wall. But if there are no good deeds, later in life when you reflect on the past, the halls will be dreary and fruitless.”
― Anthony Liccione

“Do they not see? he thought. Do they not
see this unbearable reality we’ve created?”
― Rhett Downing, Crocodile Tears

“On the fifth night, upon the eighth hour, as the fires burned, Abbo was stricken ill by St. Anthony’s Fire. I assumed it was the rye bread he’d eaten as I had eaten the cornbread. I recall telling Abbo to try the cornbread instead, but he never tried rye, and his heart was set on it. I should’ve known better when the merchant smiled, the man never smiles. I think he meant to hurt Abbo...”
― Marilyn Velez, Tundra: The Darkest Hour

“Taking the wrong fork, I veered onto a curious road where the ground grew increasingly higher, and although my heart warned me to turn back, I didn't, for the curiosities of the mind are much stronger than imagined. During the course of my journey, I noticed trees becoming unwieldy, taking shapes my eyes had not seen. What was this peculiarity that battered my mind with such wonderment? There were no signs, nor directories, not even a guide, but my curiosities did not wind, for too eager was I to turn. So, like a child lost to the night, I walked this lonesome patch of gray until coming across a curve where the forest belt spread like wildfire, and the wild weeds and grasses produced a certain beauty not found in other parts.”
― Marilyn Velez, Tundra: The Darkest Hour