Since high school, I’ve collected quotations like philatelists collect tiny bits of paper. In every book I read I scratch out copies of far too many quotations for me to use in my posts. Last year, I was inspired by Witty and Sarcastic Book Club’s annual Quotables: Words that Stuck with Me post, but there’s no way that I could just do an annual version, it’d be far too long.
So, I started a monthly (usually) version. They’re likely my favorite posts each month (at least in the top 3 in any given month). I don’t know how many of my readers dig these, but I do, so they’re sticking around.
Here are the lines from December that really stuck with me.
Radio Radio by Ian Shane
Yeah, there’s no question. This woman thinks that I am a moron. The sad thing about that is that I’ve been presenting her with plenty of evidence that I am. I’ve gone from being “interesting charming guy” to Boo Radley in less than six seconds. I’ve lost my focus and my home court advantage. I need to get my cool back in short order.
The Twist of a Knife by Anthony Horowitz
“Moxham was strikingly beautiful, the sort of place that turns up in jigsaw puzzles or Harry Potter films.”
Sacrifices by Jamie Schultz
He chambered a round.
“For ghosts?” Karyn asked.
“I ain’t willing to rule out bullets just on principle alone. They might work, and I got nothing else.”
“Plus, it makes you feel better.”
“That, too.”
“If I live through this, you’re a lifesaver,” she said to Bobby.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Nail asked.
Anna gave him a bland look. “It’s been months since we were in the same area code as a good idea. This is just what we’re stuck with.”
Secrets Typed in Blood by Stephen Spotswood
Want to see a prosecutor salivate? Had them a slam-dunk case that’ll generate good press for everyone who touches it.
To ensure that, I’d slipped out to use the facilities and, instead of powdering my nose, placed calls to The Times, The Associated Press, and the New York City Office of Reuters. I decided to save Time Magazine for the morning, they were a weekly after all, and could wait.
My boss rolled her eyes. Well, really just one eye, the false one remained more or less glaring at me.
In the kind of stories that Holly wrote, someone was always having a shock and the blood drains from their face. I’d never seen it happen in real life, not until that moment. In a blink, our client’s face went the sickly pale of cabbage and corpses.
“It’s possible,” she said. “Though it would be rather imprudent.”
“Three murders under his belt? I don’t think our guy is the prudent type.”
Pet by Akwaeke Emezi
“Well, I suppose one could see how you could see that. Only if you don’t know what a monster looks like, of course.”
What does a monster look like? Jam asked.
Her mother focused on her, cupping her cheek in a chalky hand. “Monsters don’t look like anything, doux-doux. That’s the whole point. That’s the whole problem.”
“Angels aren’t pretty pictures in old holy books, just like monsters aren’t ugly pictures. It’s all just people, doing hard things or doing bad things. But is all just people, our people.”
Midnight Blue-Light Special by Seanan McGuire
There’s something to be said for keeping your friends around you when things get bad. It may not be good for their life expectancies, but it’s sure as hell easier on the heart.
When you decide to be the immovable object standing in front of the unstoppable force, you’d better pray that you’re right about being immovable, and they’re wrong about being unstoppable.
Scattered Showers by Rainbow Rowell
Kindred Spirits
Elena couldn’t remember the first time she saw a Star Wars movie . . . in the same way she couldn’t remember the first time she saw her parents. Star Wars had just always been there. There was a stuffed Chewbacca in her crib.
The original trilogy were her dad’s favorite movies—he practically knew them by heart—so when Elena was little, like four or five, she’d say they were her favorite movies, too. Because she wanted to be just like him.
And then, as she got older, the movies started to actually sink in. Like, they went from something Elena could recite to something she could feel. She made them her own. And then she’d kept making them her own. However Elena changed or grew, Star Wars seemed to be there for her in a new way.
Winter Songs for Summer
Summer was curled into a ball on her dorm room floor.
Or as close as she could get to a ball.
She wasn’t one of those girls who could collapse into nothing. She was curled into more of a boomerang shape. A miserable boomerang.
She should probably move onto the bed, but it felt more pathetic to lie on the floor, and the floor was closer to her speakers.
She had a small, all-in-one stereo with a dual cassette player and a radio and a three-CD carousel. It was her prize possession; she’d saved up for six months to buy it.
In the old days, when Summer wanted to listen to one song over and over, she’d have to hit rewind on the tape deck and then guess when to stop. Or sometimes she’d make a tape with the same song dubbed over and over—that was time-consuming.
Now she could put in a CD and press repeat track, and listen to the same song infinitely without ever getting up—without ever having to shift out of her misery.
It had really revolutionized this breakup.
“Happy songs are the saddest thing to listen to when you’re unhappy,” the guy said matter-of-factly. “That’s just physics.”
“That’s not physics.”
“They break your heart because they make you think about the last time you were happy.” He took another bite. “Also, don’t argue with me about physics. I’m a physics major. What’s your major?”
“Secondary education.”
“Okay, I won’t argue with you about that.”
E.B. White on Dogs edited by Martha White
I like to read books on dog training. Being the owner of dachshunds, to me a book on dog discipline becomes a volume of inspired humor. Every sentence is a riot.
I can’t quite figure out why I am so busy all the time; it seems silly and is against my principles.
(Image by DaModernDaVinci from Pixabay)
Grab a book, any book.
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