#rna

He had begun the diary less as a record of his life (for whom and why? What life?) than as a regular and self-indulgent exploration, a means of makings sense of the past years, part catharsis, part comforting affirmation. ↗

— P.D. James

#life

Where got she her sullen mouth And where her swaying form? Would she live on eggs and apples When the blood of men is warm? (“The Young Witch”) ↗

— George Sterling

#horror #supernatural #witch #men

If you want to watch me shake like the owner of a Chinese buffet when two six hundred pound men walk through the doors, by all means, stick around. ~ Logan ↗

— Jennifer Turner

#men

He had a thousand-year-old stare. ↗

— Louise Erdrich

#men #old-soul #reincarnation #men

I tell you, my idea of a ghost is something quite different. Dead men rise up never – read even your poets. Ghosts breed in the living. ↗

— Leland Hall

#supernatural #men

Wert thou that just Maid who once before Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth, And cam'st again to visit us once more? Or wet thou that sweet smiling Youth? Or any other of the heavenly brood Let down in cloudy throne to do the world good? Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, Who, having clad thyself in human weed, To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post And after short abode fly back with speed As if to show what creatures heaven doth breed; Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire, To scorn the sorded world, and unto Heaven aspire? John Milton ↗

— John Milton

#reincarnation #weiss #love

There's a queer streak in human natures. Men come back to places for secret reasons, for feelings they cannot resist.' More than men come back,” I said. ↗

— Leland Hall

#horror #supernatural #men

Hardly unaware of his image, Bradlee even cultivated it. He delighted in displaying his street savvy, telling a reporter to get his ass moving and talk to some real cops, not lieutenants and captains behind a desk; then rising to greet some visiting dignitary from Le Monde or L'Express in formal, flawless French, complete with a peck on each cheek. -- Carl Bernstein, Bob Woodward ↗

— Carl Bernstein

#men

Woodward, a registered Republican, did not vote. He couldn't decide whether he was more uneasy with the disorganization and naïve idealism of McGovern's campaign or with Richard Nixon's conduct. And he believed that not voting enabled him to be more objective in reporting on Watergate - a vier Bernstein regarded as silly. Bernstein voted for McGovern, unenthusiastically and unhesitatingly, then bet in the office pool that Nixon would win with 54 percent. -- Carl Bernstein, Bob Woodward ↗

— Carl Bernstein

#men

Woodward said that he had told no one the name of Deep Throat. Mrs. Graham paused. 'Tell me,' she said. Woodward froze. He said he would give her the name if she wanted. He was praying she wouldn't press it. Mrs. Graham laughed, touched his arm and said she was only kidding, she didn't really want to carry that burden around with her. Woodward took a bite of his eggs, which were cold. -- Carl Bernstein, Bob Woodward ↗

— Carl Bernstein

#men