favorite passages... (529 hits)
Category: NoneRating: -0.55 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Monkey (View user info) at 2006-02-07 01:16:16 EST
Yes, I am a crappy writter but it's not going to stop me eitherway...
I have a huge passion for books... crazy imaginative well written, hold you in and take you to another world kind of book. I can't stand romance novels... not my styles... I read to escape reality so needless to say I don't like biographys of any form, certain non fiction books but I'm a fan of fantasy. I can't stand books that are slow for more than 3 chapters like Starwars and Lord of the Ring. I fall alseep during the book and movies... they can not keep my interest. Eitherway... books are my favorite things in the world and I've decided to post some of my favorite passages out of my favorite books... do with this what you will I post because I want to... have fun
Kushiels Dart, by Jacqueline Carey
When I was born, I daresay they still had reason for hope. My eyes, scarce open, were yet of indeterminate color, and the appearance of a newborn babe is a flued thing, changing from week to week. Blonde wisps may give way to curls of jet, the pallor of birth deepen to a richness like amber, and so on. But when my series of amniotic sea-changes were done, the thing was obvious.
I was flawed.
It is not, of course, that I lacked beauty, even as a babe. I am a D'Angeline, after all, and ever since Blessed Elua set foot on the soil of our fair nation and called it home, the world has known what it means to be D'Angeline. My soft features echoed my mother's, carved in miniature perfection. My skin , too fair for the canon of Jasmine House, was nonetheless a perfectly acceptable shade of ivory. My hair, which grew to curl in charming profusion, was the color of sable-in-shadows, reckoned a coup in some of the Houses. My limbs were staight and supple, my bones a marvel of delicate strength.
No, the problem was elsewhere.
To be sure, it was my eyes; and not even the pair of them, but merely the one.
Such a small thing on which o hinge such a fate. Nothing more that a mote, a fleck, a mere speck of color. If it had been any other hue, perhaps, it would have been a defferent story. My eyes, when they settle, were that color the poets call bistre, a deep and lustrous darkness, like a forest pool under the sade of ancient oaks. Outside Terre d'Ange, perhaps one might call it brown, but the language spoke outside our nation's bounds is a pitiful thing when it comes to describing beauty. Bistre, then, rich and liquid-dark; save for the left eye, where in the iris that ringed the black pupil, a fleck of color shone.
And it shone red, and indeed, red is a poor word for the color it shone. Scarlet, call it, or crimson; redder that a rooster's wattles or the glaxed apple in a pig's mouth.
Thus did I enter the world, with an ill-luck name and a pinprick of blood emblazoned in my gaze.
User Reviews
Submitted by malkavian (user info) at 2006-04-21 02:03:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
I think I can safely say I can spell English better than you. And I'm French.
Shame, shame, shame...
Submitted by Sphagnum (user info) at 2006-02-07 10:48:20 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Yes, I am a crappy writter
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HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Gay Alters are gay, spread the word.
Submitted by Maddog (user info) at 2006-02-07 10:33:04 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Sounds inherently fag-ish to me.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-02-07 09:39:43 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
i can't give you a -2 only because you stole that from a book/series i like. which i will subsequently recommend to others because it's about a whore.
but otherwise, yeah don't do this any more.
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2006-02-07 07:03:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-07 05:34:58 (#)
Ranking: -1
You need a good fucking. I don't know your gender but that's what you need. Pound some pussy or impale your self on a mighty meat pole. Subjugate your lover. Punch him repeatedly in the abdomen, force her face into the pillow, just hurt them and make them grimace. Bite their lips as you climax and draw a little blood. Grab their genitals with one hand, choke them with the other, stare into their eyes and say "you are mine. You belong to me". Wipe yourself on their knee and tell them to shower because they stink.
If you hear them crying in the bathroom then go to them, envelop them in your arms and tell them how beautiful they are, that you'll love them forever. Repeat nightly until you become mighty, then repost.
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I can't more than zero this post, despite the fact that it generated this review.
If you like books, you should read the one that Berty should write.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-02-07 05:41:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-07 05:34:58 (#)
Ranking: -1
You need a good fucking. I don't know your gender but that's what you need. Pound some pussy or impale your self on a mighty meat pole. Subjugate your lover. Punch him repeatedly in the abdomen, force her face into the pillow, just hurt them and make them grimace. Bite their lips as you climax and draw a little blood. Grab their genitals with one hand, choke them with the other, stare into their eyes and say "you are mine. You belong to me". Wipe yourself on their knee and tell them to shower because they stink.
If you hear them crying in the bathroom then go to them, envelop them in your arms and tell them how beautiful they are, that you'll love them forever. Repeat nightly until you become mighty, then repost.
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woah.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-02-07 05:34:58 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
You need a good fucking. I don't know your gender but that's what you need. Pound some pussy or impale your self on a mighty meat pole. Subjugate your lover. Punch him repeatedly in the abdomen, force her face into the pillow, just hurt them and make them grimace. Bite their lips as you climax and draw a little blood. Grab their genitals with one hand, choke them with the other, stare into their eyes and say "you are mine. You belong to me". Wipe yourself on their knee and tell them to shower because they stink.
If you hear them crying in the bathroom then go to them, envelop them in your arms and tell them how beautiful they are, that you'll love them forever. Repeat nightly until you become mighty, then repost.
Submitted by belowground (user info) at 2006-02-07 04:01:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm going to take a minute to type this, for two reasons. The first is that it's my favorite passage and I think everyone can find meaning in it, and the second is that i'm totally laid out by the flu, which means that i'll be calling out of work today.
The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking steadily but with dignity. "Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. "It is not half past two."
"I want to go home to bed."
"What is an hour?"
"More to me than to him."
"An hour is the same."
"You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drink at home."
"It's not the same."
"No, it is not," agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.
"And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?"
"Are you trying to insult me?"
"No, hombre, only to make a joke."
"No," the waiter was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence."
"You have youth, confidence, and a job," the older waiter said. "You have everything."
"And what do you lack?"
"Everything but work."
"You have everything I have."
"No. I have never had confidence and I am not young."
"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up."
"I am one of those who like to stay late at the cafe," the older waiter said, "With all of those who do not want to go to bed. With all of those who need a light for the night."
Ernest Hemingway- "A Clean, Well Lighted Place"
Submitted by maiorano84 (user info) at 2006-02-07 03:11:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
What was the start of all this?
When did the cogs of fate begin to turn?
Perhaps it is impossible to grasp that answer now,
From deep within the flow of time...
But, for a certainty, back then,
We loved so many, yet hated so much,
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves...
Yet even then we ran like the wind
Whilst our laughter echoed,
Under cerulean skies...
~ Chrono Cross