Prologue Quotes

“This was a Golden Age, a time of high adventure, rich living and hard dying... but nobody thought so. This was a future of fortune and theft, pillage and rapine, culture and vice... but nobody admitted it. This was an age of extremes, a fascinating century of freaks... but nobody loved it.”
― Alfred Bester, The Stars My Destination

“Do the dead frighten you?”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“But walking through it all was one thing; walking away, unfortunately, has proved to be quite another, and though once I thought I had left that ravine forever on an April afternoon long ago, now I am not so sure. Now the searchers have departed, and life has grown quiet around me, I have come to realize that while for years I might have imagined myself to be somewhere else, in reality I have been there all the time: up at the top by the muddy wheel-ruts in the new grass, where the sky is dark over the shivering apple blossoms and the first chill of the snow that will fall that night is already in the air.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“I have only to glance over my shoulder for all those years to drop away and I see it behind me again, the ravine, rising all green and black through the saplings, a picture that will never leave me.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“That belief in Christ is to some a matter of life and death has been a stumbling block for readers who would prefer to think it a matter of no great consequence.”
― Flannery O'Connor, Wise Blood

“Now hear a new truth. The Great Mother Herself will be forced to hide from those who are coming. She will seem to disappear while they grow strong, but someday She will return. Although our children and their children, perhaps to the thousandth generation, must live in the new world that has forgotten Her, they must never forget. She will return.”
― Barbara Ardinger

“Prologue: There are three wants which can never be satisfied: that of the rich wanting more, that of the sick, wanting something different, and that of the traveler, who says, "anywhere but here." —Ralph Waldo Emerson”
― Mona Simpson, Anywhere But Here

“Come forward.
Come in from the summer heat and the flies. Come in from that assault on all senses, that pummelling of rod and cone and drum and cilia. Come in from the great spotlight of the sun, sweeping across the white sands, making everyone, and therefore no one, a star.

Come inside and meet the prologue.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Radiance

“In the gray world above, I hear myself howling with laughter. Far below me, in the psychic abyss that is part of the Darkness, I hear another howling, one full of joy and pain, rage and celebration.

Not just another witch is coming, my foolish Sisters, but Witch.”
― Anne Bishop, Daughter of the Blood

“As of old Phoenician men, to the Tin Isles sailing
Straight against the sunset and the edges of the earth,
Chaunted loud above the storm and the strange sea's wailing,
Legends of their people and the land that gave them birth-
Sang aloud to Baal-Peor, sang unto the horned maiden,
Sang how they should come again with the Brethon treasure laden,
Sang of all the pride and glory of their hardy enterprise,
How they found the outer islands, where the unknown stars arise;
And the rowers down below, rowing hard as they could row,
Toiling at the stroke and feather through the wet and weary weather,
Even they forgot their burden in the measure of a song,
And the merchants and the masters and the bondsmen all together,
Dreaming of the wondrous islands, brought the gallant ship along;
So in mighty deeps alone on the chainless breezes blown
In my coracle of verses I will sing of lands unknown,
Flying from the scarlet city where a Lord that knows no pity,
Mocks the broken people praying round his iron throne,
-Sing about the Hidden Country fresh and full of quiet green.
Sailing over seas uncharted to a port that none has seen.”
― C.S. Lewis, Spirits in Bondage: A Cycle of Lyrics

“What if, this time, you fall?”
― Diana Gabaldon, Voyager

“We end up populating what we call the intelligentsia with people who are delusional, literally mentally deranged, simply because they never have to pay for the consequences of their actions, repeating moderniest slogans stripped of all depth...The principle of intervention, like that of healers, is first do not harm; even more we will argue, those who don't take risks should never be involved in decision making (p.10).

Their three flaws 1) they think in statics not dynamics 2) they think in low, not high dimensions 3) they think in terms of actions, never interactions....The first flaw is they are incapable in thinking in second steps and unaware of the need of them...The second flaw is that they are also incapable of distinguishing between multidimensional problems and their single dimensional representations. The third flaw is they can't forecast the evolution of those one helps by attaching, or the magnification one gets from feedback. (p.9)”
― Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Skin in the Game: The Hidden Asymmetries in Daily Life

“Still less could I be afraid of those ghosts who touch my thoughts in passing. Any library is filled with them. I can take a book from dusty shelves, and be haunted by the thoughts of one long dead, still lively as ever in their winding sheet of words.”
― Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn

“I kako ovaj tvoj spis ne ide ni za čim drugim nego da uništi ugled i vlast koju i među svijetom i među svjetinom uživaju viteške knjige, ne treba ti prosjačiti sentencije od filozofa, rečenice iz Svetog pisma, priče od pjesnika, govore od retora, čudesa od svetaca, nego nastoj da ti u knjizi budu krepke, valjane i dobro probrane riječi, pa da ti pričanje i rečenice poteku zvučno i ugodno, koliko god možeš, znaš i voliš, a da misli svoje iskazuješ ne brkajući ih i ne zamračujući. Nastoj i o tome da se čitajući tvoju historiju melankolik nasmije, smješljivac da puca od smijeha, priprostomu da ne bude na dosadu, razborit čovjek neka se divi invenciji, ozbiljan neka je ne odvrgne, a umnik neka je svagda hvali. Sve u sve, upni da razoriš loše osnovanu zgradu tih viteških knjiga što ih mnogi mrze a još brojniji hvale; ako to postigneš, nisi postigao malenkost.”
― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quijote de la Mancha

“One admirable thing about my grandparents was their ability to forgive infinitely.”
― Eleanor Lanahan

“Le Poète, l'amour du Beau, voilà sa foi,
L'Azur, son étendard, et l'Idéal, sa loi !”
― Paul Verlaine, Poèmes saturniens

“Once upon a time, in a castle carved of stone, a girl plotted murder,”
― Bree Barton, Heart of Thorns

“for the past was only a preface”
― Remy Alberi, The Comprehension Watch

“I still had to invent and write a great philosophic work, which I had begun a year before, and which was called, “The Tower of Babel.” I had already written five hundred pages of it, and I was still only on the Prologue! At this period my sexual anxiety disappeared almost completely, and the philosophic theories of my book took up all the room in my psychic activity.”
― Salvador Dalí, The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí

“In A.D. 1223 an infant was born, clutching a jewel in her tiny fist. Her peasant father ran to the castle to bring back a priest, but by the time they returned to the hut, the jewel had disappeared. The priest declared that such would be the child's life: all good would slip through her fingers.
The years passed, and the girl's beauty became celebrated. Knights and kings journeyed far to gaze into her eyes before leaving her on their crusades. Women and children made pilgrimages to look upon her angelic face. All who saw her felt blessed.
But an ancient evil called the Atrox also saw her unearthly perfection and pursued her, offering her father great treasures if she would betroth it. The girl saw her father's poverty and agreed to the union, making only one request for herself--- that her beauty should last forever. The Atrox agreed, and she pledged her devotion for eternity.
A Follower of the Atrox came to take the young woman to the underworld, but when he saw her beauty and grace, he fell desperately in love with her and she, too, with him.
They tried to hide their love, but the Atrox saw through their deception. When the young woman stepped into the Cold Fire to receive immortality, instead of preserving her beauty for eternity, the flames consumed her flesh and bones, turning her into a wind spirit.
The knight could not endure life without her. The force of his love drove him across the world, searching for a sorceress with the power to restore her human form. As he was crossing the sea, a storm broke out and sent his ship off course to the island of Aeaea, where Circe, an ancient enchantress, lived. Circe gave him a magic potion. With it, his beloved could possess any body she desired.
Since then many young women have felt her presence and wondered afterward what made them act so wickedly, never understanding that for a brief time, the spirit of the wind had taken over their mind and soul.”
― Lynne Ewing, Possession

“Even when money seemed to be material treasure, heavy in pockets and ships' holds and bank vaults, it always was information. Coins and notes, shekels and cowries were all just short-lived technologies for tokenizing information about who owns what.”
― James Gleick, The Information: A History, a Theory, a Flood

“Her arm was outstretched, as though she were reaching for someone she loved, or maybe to ward off some unspoken danger, or maybe even in regret over something she had done. The girl had certainly made enough mistakes in her too-short lifetime. But she couldn’t have known that they would all come crashing down around her tonight.
After all, no one goes to a party expecting to die.”
― Katharine McGee, The Dazzling Heights

“Why am I standing in this stupid empty, empty tub?" she asked.
"So it catches all the blood," he replied.”
― Kevin O'Brien, Make Them Cry

“Oh my god I did not know I can write quotes here! that's good news for my FB friends as they will have some rest from my non-continuous deep posts ..”
― Nada Elnokaly

“The scream cut through the jungle like a sharpened machete and brought a wave of fear crashing over the boy’s body. He had never felt terror like this before.”
― Jamie Baptie

“My eyes are wide open, but I see nothing but darkness. My heart races and my breaths come fast as I try to understand what just happened. But I am trying to make sense of something incomprehensible. All I know is that this is no accident. Someone has trapped me here. They have locked me in a place where no one can hear me scream. It will be a miracle if I make it out of here alive.

I am now at the mercy of a serial killer.”
― Jenny Lynne, If I Tell: A Mystery Thriller About a Girl and a Serial Killer

“During the Peloponnesian War a brave Athenian soldier fell desperately in love with the daughter of his commander. He asked for her hand in marriage but she had to refuse. Having dedicated her life to the goddess Selene, she had vowed not to marry until an evil power called the Atrox was vanquished. The soldier swore to destroy the dark force and free his beloved from her vow.
He traveled day and night until he came to the western side of the river Oceanus. There he passed through groves of barren willows and poplars until he found the cave that led to Tartarus, the land of the dead. He entered it, and when he reached the impenetrable darkness, demons swarmed around him.
A towering black cloud surged toward him. He knew it was the Atrox. But instead of trembling with fear, he became intoxicated with his own bravery; he alone had the courage to face the Atrox. If he destroyed it, he would not only win his bride, but also become as powerful as any of the immortal gods.
Pride overtook him as he shot his arrow. A terrible scream pierced the misty air. Then the unimaginable happened. The Atrox surrendered to him and humbly offered a gift of gold ankle bands in tribute.
The young man, eager to return to his love and flaunt his victory, clasped the heavy metal bands around his legs, but as he did, flames ravaged his body and the evil he had set out to destroy consumed him. The Atrox had tricked him and given him not ornaments but shackles, condemning him to an eternity of servitude. Demons carried him away from the underworld and cast him out from Earth.
Over the centuries many people have seen the young soldier in the night sky and thought of him only a falling star. He wanders the universe alone, unable to return to Earth unless summoned by his master, the Atrox.”
― Lynne Ewing, Moon Demon

“As I stare across the never-ending whiteness that is my arctic prison, I realize that while I seek isolation at times, the work requires me to interact with the locals—we each have something that the other party needs. And out here in the frigid wilderness, the night creeps in, expanding across several months, making my life, and duty, that much more difficult. I’m not getting any younger, and the cabin I live in, while ringed with several layers of protection, is not going to keep me safe from my work. (Opening paragraph of prologue.)”
― Richard Thomas, Incarnate: A Novel

“The veil is weakening, and they’re pushing through. I fear it won’t be long now.”
― Richard Thomas, Incarnate: A Novel

“There once was a town.
It was a quaint little town, in a quiet valley, where life moved at the pace of snails and the only road in was the only way out, too. There was a candy store that sold the sweetest honey taffy you ever tasted, and a garden store that grew exotic, beautiful blooms year-round. The local café was named after a possum that tormented its owner for years, and the chef there made the best honey French toast in the Northeast. There was a bar where the bartender always knew your name, and always served your burgers slightly burnt, though the local hot sauce always disguised the taste. If you wanted to stay the weekend, you could check-in at the new bed-and-breakfast in town--- just as soon as its renovations were finished, and just a pleasant hike up Honeybee Trail was a waterfall there, rumor had it, if you made a wish underneath it, the wish would come true. There was a drugstore, a grocer, a jewelry store that was open only when Mercury was in of retrograde---
And, oh, there was a bookstore.
It was tucked into an unassuming corner of an old brick building fitted with a labyrinthine maze of shelves stocked with hundreds of books. In the back corner was a reading space with a fireplace, and chairs so cozy you could sink into them for hours while you read. The rafters were filled with glass chimes that, when the sunlight came in through the top windows, would send dapples of colors flooding across the stacks of books, painting them in rainbows. A family of starlings roosted in the eaves, and sang different songs every morning, in time with the tolls of the clock tower.
The town was quiet in that cozy, sleepy way that if you closed your eyes, you could almost hear the valley breathe as wind crept through it, between the buildings, and was sighed out again.”
― Ashley Poston, A Novel Love Story