Marsh's Famous Quotes & Sayings
100 Marsh's Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
The score, which comes often quite later in a film, can help reinvigorate your emotional engagement with it.— James Marsh
To-morrow is that lamp upon the marsh, which a traveller never reacheth;— Martin Farquhar Tupper
To-morrow, the rainbow's cup, coveted prize of ignorance;
To-morrow, the shifting anchorage, dangerous trust of manners;
To-morrow, the wrecker's beacon, wily snare of the destroyer.
Reconcile conviction with delay, and To-morrow is a fatal lie;
Frighten resolutions into action, To-morrow is a wholesome truth.
What is 'cool,' anyway? Maybe it's Warne Marsh, almost totally obscure and penniless, coming in late to a fourth-rate Hollywood nightclub, playing like an angel with a couple of sidemen, but never speaking to or even acknowledging another human being.— Carolyn See
I loved these salt rivers more than I loved the sea; I loved the movement of tides more than I loved the fury of surf. Something in me was congruent with this land, something affirmed when I witnessed the startled, piping rush of shrimp or the flash of starlight on the scales of mullet. I could feel myself relax and change whenever I returned to the lowcountry and saw the vast green expanses of marsh, feminine as lace, delicate as calligraphy. The lowcountry had its own special ache and sting.— Pat Conroy
There are people to whom one need not show off. It's a great comfort sometimes.— Ngaio Marsh
Tentane Mutual's policy was not to consider any loan modification unless the borrower was delinquent in their payments. I told Mr. Marsh at the time that it may be easier for him to qualify for a loan modification than a refinance, because the qualification criteria was relaxed. But it was his decision." "But you didn't tell Mr. Marsh at that time that falling— Kenneth Eade
Most men - not just the men in Brentwood - are scared of powerful women with brains. There's something in a man that makes him want to have power over a woman - whether it's in the bedroom or because they earn more money. It boosts their egos.— Jodie Marsh
I find films incredibly emotional. That's the power of the medium.— James Marsh
All pomp and show." Anjali's glare at the house would've exploded bricks if she'd had superhuman powers. "A fat cow needs a big barn.— Nicola Marsh
Old Marsh wore a look of sorrow upon his face. You called him, miss. You called him. You must send him back now. You must send him back. He won't be the brother you remember. It ain't his spirit comes back. I told you that. It's the soul of death comes back, that's what it is, miss. The soul of death in disguise like your brother. Only the one who called him can send him back. I saw the bird in the cellars, in the bowl, miss. I know what you done. I know what you called.— Douglas Clegg
Faith sees the unseen things and makes them real.— F. E. Marsh
We do not wait for inspiration. We work because we've jolly well got to. But when all is said and done, we toil at this particular job because it's turned out to be our particular job, and in a weird sort of way I suppose we may be said to like it.— Ngaio Marsh
I know it's going to sound funny, but I know you've been hanging around with that Billie Marsh, so maybe it won't be strange after all. Would you be my best man - or, I don't know, my best lady?— Anna Godbersen
I did 'Red Riding,' which is TV in the U.K. It became a feature project in North America, but we're in a great era of TV. We all know that, and we hear it all the time, but for filmmakers, it's just a godsend to have your television writing and work to do on television, and the means to do it properly.— James Marsh
I raise my face to his, ready for the crush of his lips against mine, wanting to share more than these nervous breaths.— Sarah Glenn Marsh
The moon rises. The red cubs rolling— Randall Jarrell
In the ferns by the rotten oak
Stare over a marsh and a meadow
To the farm's white wisp of smoke.
A spark burns, high in heaven.
Deer thread the blossoming rows
Of the old orchard, rabbits
Hop by the well-curb. The cock crows
From the tree by the widow's walk;
Two stars in the trees to the west,
Are snared, and an owl's soft cry
Runs like a breath through the forest.
Here too, though death is hushed, though joy
Obscures, like night, their wars,
The beings of this world are swept
By the Strife that moves the stars.
She's one of the fay folk; half of her is a woman, but she has the legs of a goat, except no one ever sees those for she hides them under her robes. She sleeps deep in the black pool while it's day, but at witch-light she rises in robes green as pond weed, glowing in the dark with her silver hair trailing behind her. She's so beautiful any man who glimpses her can't take his eyes off her. but that's just her witchery for inside she's really a withered old crone with a heart as black as a marsh pool.— Karen Maitland
Thus I began my systematic though half-bewildered tour of Innsmouth's narrow, shadow-blighted ways. Crossing the bridge and turning toward the roar of the lower falls, I passed close to the Marsh refinery, which seemed to be oddly free from the noise of industry. The building stood on the steep river bluff near a bridge and an open confluence of streets which I took to be the earliest civic center, displaced after the Revolution by the present Town Square.— H.P. Lovecraft
Between reaction and revolution there is nothing to choose. Neither leave the track, they just allow different people to drive while the same people are run over.— Heather Marsh
The Marsh King raised himself up and ushered me out the door with the air of a host who has just realized he is one guest away from a comfortable nap.— Catherynne M Valente
I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies,— Sidney Lanier
In the freedom that fills all the space 'twixt the marsh and the skies.
A lot of people don't realize this, but probably the one person that gets made fun of in 'South Park' more than anybody is my dad. Stan's father, Randy - my dad's name is Randy - that's my drawing of my dad; that's me doing my dad's voice. That is just my dad. Even Stan's last name, Marsh, was my dad's stepfather's name.— Trey Parker
Life is a glass of champagne— Kevin Marsh
Now she knew the haven she had sought in dreams, the place of warm safety which had always been hidden from her in the mist. It was not Ashley - oh, never Ashley! There was no more warmth in him than in a marsh light, no more security than in quicksand. It was Rhett - Rhett who had strong arms to hold her, a broad chest to pillow her tired head, jeering laughter to pull her affairs into proper perspective. And complete understanding, because he, like her, saw truth as truth, unobstructed by impractical notions of honor, sacrifice, or high belief in human nature.— Margaret Mitchell
On motionless wing they emerge from the lifting mists, sweep a final arc of sky, and settle in clangorous descending spirals to their feeding grounds. A new day has begun on the crane marsh.— Aldo Leopold
There must be a marsh in the brains of these men or there would not be so many frogs of wrong ideas gathered in their heads.— Mehmet Murat Ildan
We are in a prison of our own minds holding our own chains around us. We create our oligarchs and fight for their right to oppress us.— Heather Marsh
Your worst enemy is not the person in opposition to you. It is the person occupying the spot you would be fighting from and doing nothing.— Heather Marsh
The great chasm of memory from her childhood in the intimate country surroundings of Cossethay and the Marsh Farm - she remembered the servant Tilly, who used to give her bread and butter sprinkled with brown sugar, in the old living-room where the grandfather clock had two pink roses in a basket painted above the figures on the face - and now when she was travelling into the unknown with Birkin, an utter stranger - was so great, that it seemed she had no identity, that the child she had been, playing in Cossethay churchyard, was a little creature of history, not really herself.— D.H. Lawrence
All April and May, the stock-pots exuded the fragrance of the crushed bones and marrow of cattle and fowl, seasoned with the crispate herbs and vegetables from her own luxuriant garden. The smells coalesced into a dark perfume that felt like a layer of silk on the tongue. My nose grew kingly at the approach of my home. There would be the redolent brown stocks the color of tanned leather, the light and chipper white stocks, and the fish stocks brimming with the poached heads of trout smelling like an edible serving of marsh.— Pat Conroy
Women at the top are the ones chosen to be there by men and not eliminated by women, a dual filter that excludes most witches: those with brilliance and originality and those capable of disturbing the status quo.— Heather Marsh
Is not our capacity to choose, to chase, to dream of becoming other than we are, more powerful then the patterns of the stars?— Katherine Marsh
To stand at the edge of the sea, to sense the ebb and flow of the tides, to feel the breath of a mist moving over a great salt marsh, to watch the flight of shore birds that have swept up and down the surf lines of the continents for untold thousands of years, to see the running of the old eels and the young shad to the sea, is to have knowledge of things that are as nearly eternal as any earthly life can be.— Rachel Carson
Night smelt the way Havoc's songs sounded. It smelt of steel and rushlights and the marsh welcoming a misstep and anger souring like old blood.— Frances Hardinge
I read a lot of ghost stories because I was writing a ghost story. I didn't think at all I was writing a horror or a thriller or whatever because it is about a ghost, whereas a horror film can be about aliens or things that rise out of the marsh that have no human shape.— Susan Hill
Here's what I think," says Jasmine between chattering teeth. "If these humans are stupid enough to go hiking in this - " she gestures to the thick mist swirling around us '-then they deserve to be led into a marsh and drowned.— Rachel Morgan
Self-governance does not mean no one is responsible. It means everyone is.— Heather Marsh
I really must tell you, I have never been a thespian.'— Julia Quinn
Harriet waved this off like a gnat. 'That is what is so wonderful about my plays. Anyone can enjoy himself.'
...
'I am *not* playing a frog.' His eyes narrowed wickedly. 'Unless you [Anne] do, too.'
'There is only one frog in the play,' Harriet said blithely.
'But isn't the title The Marsh of the Frogs?' he asked, even though he should have known better. 'Plural?' Good Lord, the entire conversation was making him dizzy.
'That's the irony,' Harriet said, and Daniel managed to stop himself just before he asked her what she meant by that (because it fulfilled no definition of irony *he'd* ever heard).
Heavy is the head that holds the pen of creation. We construct these characters from nothing, molding them from our imaginations. We give them hopes and dreams and unique personalities until they feel so real you're mind believes it must be so. We watch them grow by our hands, not always knowing the paths they will choose with the obstacles we throw at them. They take on a life of their own and often surprise even us by their actions we couldn't have imagined before it poured out of us onto the paper. We could change it if we really wanted to, but it would be forced and not be true to the characters. And when something tragic happens and one is lost, we feel that loss even though we know they were not a friend, a family member or even ourselves. It can be a hard thing to voice sometimes, to give tribute to the one's left behind with the real sadness over something not so real. But we find the words and press on to the next challenge, because that's what good writers do.— Jennifer A. Marsh
One of the graces of this world is that there is always some opportunity to show through our actions-be they ever so small or humble-who we are and what we truly believe.— Katherine Marsh
I used to walk out, at night, to the breakwater which divides the end of the harbor form the broad moor of the salt marsh. There was nothing to block the wind that had picked up speed and vigor from its Atlantic crossing. I'd study the stars in their brilliant blazing, the diaphanous swath of the milk Way, the distant glow of Boston backlighting the clouds on the horizon as if they'd been drawn there in smudgy charcoal. I felt, perhaps for the first time, particularly American, embedded in American history, here at the nation's slender tip. Here our westering impulse, having flooded the continent and turned back, finds itself face to face with the originating Atlantic, November's chill, salt expanses, what Hart Crane called the "unfettered leewardings," here at the end of the world.— Mark Doty
You walk for days among trees and among stones. Rarely does the eye light on a thing, and then only when it has recognized that thing as the sign of another thing: a print in the sand indicates the tiger's passage; a marsh announces a vein of water; the hibiscus flower, the end of winter. All the rest is silent and interchangeable; trees and stones are only what they are.— Italo Calvino
Sometimes, I experience God like this beautiful nothing', he said, 'and it seems then as though the whole point of life is just to rest in it. To contemplate it, and love it, and eventually to disappear into it. And then, other times, it's just the opposite. God feels like a presence that engorges everything. I come out here and it seems the divine is running rampant. That the marsh, the whole of creation, is some dance God is doing and we're meant to step into it. That's all.'" - Whit— Sue Monk Kidd
The marsh toads interviewed the eagle— Farrukh Dhondy
'How come you venture so high?
Aren't you scared you'll hit the ceiling
That blue metal dome they call the sky?'
The eagle knew these earth-bound creatures
Were ignorant of
boundless space
And couldn't conceive
of infinities
Not being born to the wind's embrace."
From Bachchoo's Fables
Every spring in the wet meadows and ditches I hear a little shrilling chorus which sounds for all the world like an endlessly reiterated "We're here, we're here, we're here." And so they are, as frogs, of course. Confident little fellows. I suspect that to some greater ear than ours, man's optimistic pronouncements about his role and destiny may make a similar little ringing sound that travels a small way out into the night. It is only its nearness that is offensive. From the heights of a mountain, or a marsh at evening, it blends, not too badly, with all the other sleepy voices that, in croaks or chirrups, are saying the same thing.— Loren Eiseley
You can not be the judge of another's wishes. If you love someone, you must believe that they know what is best for themselves.— Katherine Marsh
Come with me, come with me— Ashfaq Saraf
I'll revisit the solitary mosque near hill brook,
Where men are scarce, come let's see,
I'll hold your hands as I took
The hands of my shiver strains,
Of poignant losses, of miniscule gains,
Come with me across these marsh mellows
Dividing our men into doves and scarecrows!
Come sit with the longing in these abandoned rows
where the frozen eyes burn renunciation stoves,
Let's visit the solitary mosque near hill brook;
I love America, but I've now got two young kids and America has changed so much since 9/11 and Bush. It's beyond Orwellian. The idea in '1984' that if you keep saying you're being attacked then you can get away with anything has come true.— James Marsh
I had never been the receptacle of someone's hope, and found this weightless thing to be a heavy burden.— Katherine Marsh
Unfortunately, there's no surefire way to prevent sexual assault.— Jennifer Marsh
Daltrey was by all accounts the toughest man in the Who; maybe the toughest man in London. Filled with blue collar attitude, he strutted around the stage, screaming out the rage of a century of London's dead end lives, roaring like a young lion trapped in a decadent, dying England. Townsend wrote prettily, daydreaming foolishly individualistic dreams of artistic expression, but it was Roger's sledghammer voice that smashed the skulls of the enemy.— Dave Marsh
I tell you what," said Troy more amiably. "I've always been frightened of the whole business. Love and so on."— Ngaio Marsh
"The physical side?"
"Yes, that, but much more than that. The whole business. The breaking down of all one's reserves. The mental as well as the physical intimacy."
"My mind to me a kingdom is.
The Roman Road is the greatest monument ever raised to human liberty by a noble and generous people. It runs across mountain, marsh and river. It is built broad, straight and firm. It joins city with city and nation with nation. It is tens of thousands of miles long, and always thronged with grateful travellers. And while the Great Pyramid, a few hundred feet high and wide, awes sight-seers to silence - though it is only the rifled tomb of an ignoble corpse and a monument of oppression and misery, so that no doubt in viewing it you may still seem to hear the crack of the taskmaster's whip and the squeals and groans of the poor workmen struggling to set a huge block of stone into position -— Robert Graves
One of the outcomes of a Spirit-filled life is a new illumination to understand God's Word.— F. E. Marsh
No! No!" the star crackled desperately. "That's wrong! I'm supposed to die!" "But I could save you if you'd let me catch you," Michael told it gently. "No!" cried the star. "I'd rather die!" It dived away from Michael's fingers. Michael plunged for it, but it was too quick for him. It swooped for the nearest marsh pool, and the black water leaped into a blaze of whiteness for just an instant. Then there was a small, dying sizzle. When Sophie hobbled over, Michael was standing watching the last light fade out of a little round lump under the dark water. "That was sad," Sophie said.— Diana Wynne Jones
You killed my pappy," said the youth, "and my pappy's pappy. And his pappy's pappy. And my brothers Jethro, Hank, Hoss, Red, Peregrine, Marsh, Junior, Dizzy, Luke, Peregrine, George and all the others. I'm callin' you out, lawman.— Jasper Fforde
There are a lot of victims when it comes to addiction. I know there's an overdose epidemic. We see those faces. But then I see these other faces - the ones who commit suicide because they can't handle the pain. Those faces mean just as much to me.— Donna Marsh
I showed him the empty time where my memory won't go. I let him look there. He ran from me then. He ran, and I chased him. But only to the edge of the marsh. Because it's a game. And I'm going to win.— Mark Lawrence
Marsh'k cut the circuit on the rest of the helmsman's whining and rose to his feet, stretching to his full height of just under six standard Terran feet.— Christina Engela
Quiet, by its nature, slips away unnoticed. But once it's gone, we notice.— Susan Marsh
We had been out in the woods near campus one evening, having skipped out on our last class. I'd traded a pair of cute, rhinestone-studded sandals to Abby Badica for a bottle of peach schnapps - desperate, yes, but you did what you had to in Montana - which she'd somehow gotten hold of. Lissa had shaken her head in disapproval when I suggested cutting class to go put the bottle out of it's misery, but she'd come along anyway. Like always.— Richelle Mead
We found a log to sit on near a scummy green marsh. A half-moon cast a tiny light on us, but it was more than enough for vampires and half-vampires to see by. Passing the bottle back and forth I'd grilled her on Aaron.
I held up that bottle and glared at it. I don't think this stuff it working.
Why should you buy the cow, if you can get the milk for free?" Answer: There is no reason, no incentive, no need to buy the cow. If the cow continues to supply free milk, the milk's value and the cow's value are greatly reduced and free milk will keep that cow feeling empty, misused and unwanted. This is the harsh reality of giving out discounts. Of course, we are not cows, but rather sons and daughters of the Most High God, so let's be mindful not to discount the price that was paid for us on Calvary.— Lindsay Marsh Warren
Marsh recounts an anecdote about a psychopath who was being tested with a series of pictures and who failed over and over again to recognize fearful expressions, until finally she figured it out: "That's the look people get right before I stab them.— Paul Bloom
The sweet heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell.— C.S. Lewis
GGibbie never thought about himself, therefore was there wide room for the entrance of the spirit. Does the questioning thought arise to any reader: How could a man be conscious of bliss without the thought of himself? I answer the doubt: When a man turns to look at himself, that moment the glow of the loftiest bliss begins to fade; the pulsing fire-flies throb paler in the passionate night; an unseen vapour steams up from the marsh and dims the star-crowded sky and the azure sea; and the next moment the very bliss itself looks as if it had never been more than a phosphorescent gleam— George MacDonald
the summer lightning of the brain. For then the man sees himself but in his own dim mirror, whereas ere he turned to look in that, he knew himself in the absolute clarity of God's present thought out-bodying him.
A duck's nest was found today near the trail on the dry open prairie with as far as could be seen no water or marsh near. The bird flew off but could not tell what species. The eggs nine originally.— George Mercer Dawson
Each morning my characters greet me with misty faces willing, though chilled, to muster for another day's progress through the dazzling quicksand the marsh of blank paper.— John Updike
Buried his face in Lily's throat, drinking in her small— Anne Marsh
When he sat in the rowboat again, the oars ready but not yet dipped into the water to take him away from the island, Jeff looked back. He didn't see the busy land crabs nor the overgrown interior; he saw the beach, knowing it was there just beyond sight, keeping the sight of it clear in his inner eye. He splashed the oars into the water. Behind him, a great blue squawked - Jeff turned his head quickly. The heron rose up from the marsh grass, croaking its displeasure at the disturbance, at Jeff, at all of the world. Its legs dragged briefly in the water before it rose free to swoop over Jeff's head with a whirring of powerful wings. It landed again on the far side of the ruined dock, to stand on stiltlike legs with its long beak pointed toward the water. Just leave me alone, the heron seemed to be saying. Jeff rowed away, down the quiet creek. The bird did not watch him go.— Cynthia Voigt
And you told Mr. Marsh at that time that a refinance was impossible, did you not?" "I did." Every teacher of cross-examination points out that you never ask a question that you do not know the answer to, and you never ask the question "why" because that gives the witness the opportunity to answer in a narrative, but Brent wanted the jury to hear the answer to the next question in Bernstein's own words, so he took the calculated risk. "Why was it impossible?" "Because Mr. Marsh was delinquent in his loan payments." "But Mr. Bernstein, didn't you tell Mr. Marsh about six months earlier that, in order to qualify for a loan modification, he had to be delinquent in his loan payments?" "That's for a modification, not a refinance, and that was Tentane's policy ... " "Object— Kenneth Eade
Take my advice, don't appreciate any man too highly. In the book of every man's life there is a page which he would wish to keep turned down.— Richard Marsh
How are you feeling?' I asked. 'Fine,' he replied with a tired smile. 'Well done!' I replied, as I think patients need to be congratulated for their surviving just as much as the surgeons should be congratulated for doing their job well. 'It's— Henry Marsh
The heron must be used to people, and yet it never lets you get too close. Draw parallel to it with the width of one of the marsh's holding ponds between you, and it will duck its head, eyeing you with suspicion, then fly. I cannot approach the heron, certainly could never touch it; I can only look for it, entranced.— John Halstead
This is how I understand the divine, and why I continue to seek it in the resolutely non-human world, with which we nonetheless recognize a numinous kinship. Sometimes, it will turn and lock eyes with you, lifting you out of yourself, changing everything. Other times, it will give you the side-eye and swoop away, leaving you longing for retreating beauty. You might not see it every single time you go looking, or where you expect to find it. No matter how common the experience, every time you stumble across mystery, or independent wild being, it is a surprise and a miracle. And every day, you can look." - Sara Amis, "A Daily Heron
As the youth came on in front of the others, he got the bronze in his chest beside the right nipple. On through his shoulder it went and he fell to earth in the dust like a sooth black poplar whose branchy top falls in the low grassland of a mighty marsh to the gleaming ax of some chariot-maker, who leaves t to dry by the banks of a river that he may bend him a rim for a beautiful chariot. Even such was the fall of Anthemion's son Simoeisius— Homer
It had been two weeks since her first real boyfriend, Jason, had broken— Alexandra Monir
up with her on the eve of the first day of school. His exact words had been "Babe, you know I think you're
the best and all, but it's my senior year and I can't have the baggage of a relationship. I gotta live it up,
play the field. You get it, right?" Uh, not exactly. So Michele had to begin her junior year with a broken
heart, which grew all the more painful last week, when word spread that Jason was hooking up with a
sophomore, Carly Marsh
Dried-out marsh, now barren of all vegetation and covered with a layer of dust about an inch thick. It was very cold. Zaphod was clearly rather depressed about it. He stalked off by himself and was soon lost to sight behind a slight rise in the ground. The wind stung Arthur's eyes and ears, and the stale thin air clasped his throat. However, the thing that was stung most was his mind. "It's fantastic ... " he said, and his own voice rattled his ears. Sound carried badly in this thin atmosphere.— Douglas Adams
Float beyond the world of trees. Out into the whispering breeze, past the rushes, past the weeds, past the marsh's waving reeds.— J.R.R. Tolkien
Thoreau the "Patron Saint of Swamps" because he enjoyed being in them and writing about them said, "my temple is the swamp ... When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most impenetrable and to the citizen, most dismal, swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place, a sanctum sanctorum ... I seemed to have reached a new world, so wild a place ... far away from human society. What's the need of visiting far-off mountains and bogs, if a half-hour's walk will carry me into such wildness and novelty.— Henry David Thoreau
But I then thought of how the value of my work as a doctor is measured solely in the value of other people's lives, and that included the people in front of me in the check-out queue.— Henry Marsh
I wasn't going to play by her rules. I was going to change them myself." -Avalin Marsh— A.L. Collins
"Sometimes you have to look through someone else's eyes to see the best things about yourself." -Albert Huntington
"It's worth a shot, it's always worth a shot. Even if it's your very last bullet." -Lyle McCormick
"I was always the invisible one, Avalin. It was you who made sure I was seen." -Prajna Sarasvati
"Let's hope we can subdue her before it comes to methods that involve injecting people with pointy things, yes?" -Madeline Gray
There's nothing better for kids than a bucket and shovel at the beach. I grew up across the marsh from The Citadel. We loved buying chicken necks at the Piggly Wiggly, tying them to a string on a stick and catching blue crabs.— Thomas Gibson
It's raining outside. How did you get here? And how did you get to be twenty-eight?— Austin Grossman
In The Silver Chair, the Marsh-wiggle Puddleglum is all wisdom in rebutting the witch as she denies the existence of the world in which he believes. But as children's fiction isn't quite academically respectable, I'll pretend that I learned this from Blaise Pascal. [ ... ] If the world really is accidental and devoid of meaning, and you and I have no more value in the cosmos than you average bread mold, and Beauty and Goodness are artificial constructs imagined within an explosion, constructs that are controlled by chemical reactions within the accident and have no necessary correspondence to reality, then my made-up children's world licks your real world silly. Depart from me. Go drown in your seething accident. Puddleglum and I are staying here.— N.D. Wilson
the first retail bar code scanner was used in 1974 to scan a pack of Wrigley's Juicy Fruit gum in a Marsh supermarket in Troy, Ohio. But— John Kounios
But Mr. Bernstein, didn't you tell Mr. Marsh about six months earlier that, in order to qualify for a loan modification, he had to be delinquent in his loan payments?" "That's for a modification, not a refinance, and that— Kenneth Eade
Usually, with the work I've done, by the end, I usually feel like it's a failure. It doesn't matter how it's received.— James Marsh
All of society's problems which could be solved by money, were caused by money.— Heather Marsh
Thus it is that four strangers sit in the red chairs, strip off their socks, plunge their feet into the ink-baths, and hold hands under an amphibian stare. This is the first act of anyone entering Palimpsest: Orlande will take your coats, sit you down, and make you family. She will fold you four together like Quartos. She will draw you each a card - look, for you it is the Broken Ship reversed, which signifies Perversion, a Long Journey without Enlightenment, Gout - and tie your hands together with red yarn. Wherever you go in Palimpsest, you are bound to these strangers who happened onto Orlande's salon just when you did, and you will go nowhere, eat no capon or dormouse, drink no oversweet port that they do not also taste, and they will visit no whore that you do not also feel beneath you, and until that ink washes from your feet - which, given that Orlande is a creature of the marsh and no stranger to mud, will be some time - you cannot breathe but that they breathe also.— Catherynne M Valente
Once when I was younger I went out and sat under the sky and looked up and asked it to take me back. What I should have done was gone to the swamp and bog and ask them to bring me back because, if anything is, mud and marsh are the origins of life. Now i think of the storm that made chaos, that the storm opened a door. It tried to make over a world the way it wanted it to be. At school I learned that storms create life, that lightning, with its nitrogen, is a beginning; bacteria and enzymes grow new life from decay out of darkness and water. It's into this that I want to fall, into swamp and mud and sludge and it seems like falling is the natural way of things; gravity needs no fuel, no wings. It needs only stillness and waiting and time.— Linda Hogan
He talked about luck and fate and numbers coming up, yet he never ventured a nickel at the casinos because he knew the house had all the percentages. And beneath his pessimism, his bleak conviction that all the machinery was rigged against him, at the bottom of his soul was a faith that he was going to outwit it, that by carefully watching the signs he was going to know when to dodge and be spared. It was fatalism with a loophole, and all you had to do to make it work was never miss a sign. Survival by coordination, as it were. The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but to those who can see it coming and jump aside. Like a frog evading a shillelagh in a midnight marsh.— Hunter S. Thompson
The biggest challenge facing the great teachers and communicators of history is not to teach history itself, nor even the lessons of history, but why history matters. How to ignite the first spark of the will o'the wisp, the Jack o'lantern, the ignis fatuus [foolish fire] beloved of poets, which lights up one source of history and then another, zigzagging across the marsh, connecting and linking and writing bright words across the dark face of the present. There's no phrase I can come up that will encapsulate in a winning sound-bite why history matters. We know that history matters, we know that it is thrilling, absorbing, fascinating, delightful and infuriating, that it is life. Yet I can't help wondering if it's a bit like being a Wagnerite; you just have to get used to the fact that some people are never going to listen.— Stephen Fry
Hemalurgy, it is called, because of the connection to blood. It is not a coincidence, I believe, that— Brandon Sanderson
death is always involved in the transfer of powers via Hemalurgy. Marsh once described it as a
"messy" process. Not the adjective I would have chosen. It's not disturbing enough.
Yellow is my favorite, but what is yellow? Handmaiden to white, it is a slight tarnish of pure light. Take away a bit of whites absolute luminosity, and what remains is yellow— Richard Grossinger
sunlike, golden as a crown, buttercups in a field, marsh marigolds, a finch's wing, a plastic flute.
What's a treaty? It's a piece of paper. An agreement means nothing in itself. It's the power to force others to comply with that agreement - that's all that counts. That's the sham of this whole thing."— S.J. Kincaid
- General Marsh
To describe our growing up in the lowcountry of South Carolina, I would have to take you to the marsh on a spring day, flush the great blue heron from its silent occupation, scatter marsh hens as we sink to our knees in mud, open an oyster with a pocketknife and feed it to you from the shell and say, 'There. That taste. That's the taste of my childhood.'— Pat Conroy
For a film to be viable, it has to survive this process of scrutiny. I think most filmmakers have obsessive-compulsive tendencies and would be completely unemployable in any other job - so it's great to be able to channel your psychological anomalies into something productive and creative.— James Marsh
Well," the Marsh King pursed his beak politely, "at any rate, your manliness need only last for a relatively brief period. I have already discussed this in detail with some of the lower Stars - white dwarfs and the like. I shall bundle you up tight as a mitten in a human skin until," and here he cleared his long blue throat dramatically, "the Virgin is devoured, the sea turns to gold, and the saints migrate west on the wings of henless eggs."— Catherynne M Valente
"In the Stars' name, what does that mean?" I gasped.
"I haven't the faintest idea! Isn't it marvelous? Oracles always have the best poetry! I only repeated what I was told - it is rather rude of you to expect magic, prophecy, and interpretation. That's asking quite a lot, even from a King.
One should have the courage of one's loneliness.— Ngaio Marsh
I have an immoderate passion for water; for the sea, though so vast, so restless, so beyond one's comprehension; for rivers, beautiful, yet fugitive and elusive; but especially for marshes, teeming with all that mysterious life of the creatures that haunt them. A marsh is a whole world within a world, a different world, with a life of its own, with its own permanent denizens, its passing visitors, its voices, its sounds, its own strange mystery.— Guy De Maupassant
Now the Fox Moth 83 was by no means an aeroplane designed for passenger comfort. It only had enough room for two seats, a stretcher and the doctor. What's more, it was held together with little more than wood, cloth, string and wire. So they set off at top speed, which was about 80 miles an hour, in the old money; about a four-hour trip it was.— Bill Marsh
