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We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive. This is Russia and it is 1952. What else would you call hell?
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Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.
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Yet humanity could not conceive. It tried and tried, and called mighty wizards from every corner of its earthly kingdom, but no child came. Many mourned, and said that a child was a terrible idea to begin with, ...
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I'm gonna be good at something other than marrying, darlings. Besides, I don't want them. I don't even wanna screw them, how am I gonna marry them?
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What was a person, if not the things they knew and the face they wore?
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I look at you, Masha, and it is like drinking cold water. I look at you and it is like my throat being cut.
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I want to skip this part. I want to pull on the arm of my slot machine and let the rolls flip over until they show a green tree in the summertime, and me away from that house, walking tall under a blue sky.
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My master lit a candle in the long midwinter's past Now summer comes and all the fields are burning black and fast.
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Dreams keep the heart alive.
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A good, solid, beefy lie is too heavy to stand on its own. It needs smaller, quicker, more complicated lies to hold it up.
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You humans, you know, whoever built you sewed irony into your sinews.
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He looked so sorry and miserable as he pushed me out the door. It stung. It always stings when there's this whole story going on and you're really just a B-plot walk-on who only got a look at three pages of the script.
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Iago shrugged his furry shoulders. “As you like. Saves me the work of picking the lock with my incisor."
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If he lost everything else, pride, priapism, and producer credit, Decibel Jones would never, never give up his swagger.
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I do not serve your personal issues, Morevna. I serve the People, and the People will have crimes against their body answered. You fought at Leningrad. So did I. Why should he be spared?' 'Somebody ought to be.
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You are going to break your promise. I understand. And I hold my hands over the ears of my heart, so that I will not hate you.
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The opposite of Calypso is apocalypse.
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At the snowy summit of all these things, however, is the fact that you simply cannot go about locking your siblings in towers when they misbehave. It is unseemly and betrays a sad lack of creativity.
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I was born a girl in a world of Branwells, but I shall be more than I am meant.
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Do not ruin today with mourning tomorrow.
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We have all of us got it jumbled up. You never feel so grown up as when you are eleven, and never so young and unsure as when you are forty. That is why time is a rotten jokester and no one ought to let him in to dinner.
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All children are heartless. They have not grown a heart yet, which is why they can climb tall trees and say shocking things and leap so very high that grown-up hearts flutter in terror.
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It is good that you ruined your face, because it brought you to me, but also because beautiful women rarely work strong magic.
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How poor you are, September. You make my heart groan. I know about Homesickness. It begins with H. What will you do?