我的文学网
句子首页
诗词古文
书籍摘抄
影视台词
名人名言
网络语录
用户原创
注册
登录
选择频道
文章
汉字
句子
诗词
人物
图书
词语
搜索
搜索结果
按时间
按热度
按评论
按分数
按支持量
The Doll's House
“It means the world's about as solid and as reliable as a layer of scum on the top of a well of black water which goes down forever, and there are things in the depths that I don't even want to think about. It means more than that. It means that we're just dolls. We don't have a clue what's really going down, we just kid ourselves that we're in control of our lives while a paper's thickness away things that would drive us mad if we thought about them for too long play with us, and move us around from room to room, and put us away at night when they're tired, or bored.”
Neil Gaiman
The Sandman
The Dolls House
The Tyrant’s Tomb
“This young woman,” said Diana, “was responsible for the destruction of the Triumvirate’s fleet.”
“Well, I had a lot of help,” Lavinia said.
“I don’t understand,” I said, turning to Lavinia. “You made all those mortars malfunction?”
Lavinia looked offended. “Well, yeah. Somebody had to stop the fleet. I did pay attention during siege-weapon class and ship-boarding class. It wasn’t that hard. All it took was a little fancy footwork.”
Hazel finally managed to pick her jaw off the pavement. “Wasn’t that hard?”
“We were motivated! The fauns and dryads did great.” She paused, her expression momentarily clouding, as if she remembered something unpleasant. “Um…besides, the Nereids helped a lot. There was only a skeleton crew aboard each yacht. Not, like, actual skeletons, but—you know what I mean. Also, look!”
She pointed proudly at her feet, which were now adorned with the shoes of Terpsichore from Caligula’s private collection.
“You mounted an amphibious assault on an enemy fleet,” I said, “for a pair of shoes.”
Lavinia huffed. “Not just for the shoes, obviously.” She tap-danced a routine that would’ve made Savion Glover proud. “Also to save the camp, and the nature spirits, and Michael Kahale’s commandos.”
Hazel held up her hands to stop the overflow of information. “Wait. Not to be a killjoy—I mean, you did an amazing thing!—but you still deserted your post, Lavinia. I certainly didn’t give you permission —”
“I was acting on praetor’s orders,” Lavinia said haughtily. “In fact, Reyna helped. She was knocked out for a while, healing, but she woke up in time to instill us with the power of Bellona, right before we boarded those ships. Made us all strong and stealthy and stuff.”
Hazel asked, “Is it true about Lavinia acting on your orders?”
Reyna glanced at our pink-haired friend. The praetor’s pained expression said something like, I respect you a lot, but I also hate you for being right.
“Yes,” Reyna managed to say. “Plan L was my idea. Lavinia and her friends acted on my orders. They performed heroically.”
Lavinia beamed. “See? I told you.”
The assembled crowd murmured in amazement, as if, after a day full of wonders, they had finally witnessed something that could not be explained.”
Apollo
Hazel Levesque
Caligula
Diana
Reyna Avila Ramírez Arellano
Lester Papadopoulos
Lavinia Asimov
Terpischore
The Tyrant’s Tomb
“I keeled over sideways.
The world turned fluffy, bleached of all color. Nothing hurt anymore.
I was dimly aware of Diana’s face hovering over me, Meg and Hazel peering over the goddess’s shoulders.
“He’s almost gone,” Diana said.
Then I was gone. My mind slipped into a pool of cold, slimy darkness.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” My sister’s voice woke me rudely.
I’d been so comfortable, so nonexistent.
Life surged back into me—cold, sharp, and unfairly painful. Diana’s face came into focus. She looked annoyed, which seemed on-brand for her.
As for me, I felt surprisingly good. The pain in my gut was gone. My muscles didn’t burn. I could breathe without difficulty. I must have slept for decades.
“H-how long was I out?” I croaked.
“Roughly three seconds,” she said. “Now, get up, drama queen.”
She helped me to my feet. I felt a bit unsteady, but I was delighted to find that my legs had any strength at all. My skin was no longer gray. The lines of infection were gone. The Arrow of Dodona was still in my hand, though he had gone silent, perhaps in awe of the goddess’s presence. Or perhaps he was still trying to get the taste of “Sweet Caroline” out of his imaginary mouth.
I beamed at my sister. It was so good to see her disapproving I-can’t-believe-you’re-my-brother frown again. “I love you,” I said, my voice hoarse with emotion.
She blinked, clearly unsure what to do with this information. “You really have changed.”
“I missed you!”
“Y-yes, well. I’m here now. Even Dad couldn’t argue with a Sibylline invocation from Temple Hill.”
“It worked, then!” I grinned at Hazel and Meg. “It worked!”
“Yeah,” Meg said wearily. “Hi, Artemis.”
“Diana,” my sister corrected. “But hello, Meg.” For her, my sister had a smile. “You’ve done well, young warrior.”
Meg blushed. She kicked at the scattered zombie dust on the floor and shrugged. “Eh.”
I checked my stomach, which was easy, since my shirt was in tatters. The bandages had vanished, along with the festering wound. Only a thin white scar remained. “So…I’m healed?” My flab told me she hadn’t restored me to my godly self. Nah, that would have been too much to expect.
Diana raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not the goddess of healing, but I’m still a goddess. I think I can take care of my little brother’s boo-boos.”
“Little brother?”
She smirked.”
Siblings
Apollo
Hazel Levesque
Diana
Meg Mccaffrey
Lester Papadopoulos
Boo Boo
The Arrow Of Dodona
The Tyrant’s Tomb
“Meg slashed through the last of Tarquin’s minions. That was a good thing, I thought distantly. I didn’t want her to die, too. Hazel stabbed Tarquin in the chest. The Roman king fell, howling in pain, ripping the sword hilt from Hazel’s grip. He collapsed against the information desk, clutching the blade with his skeletal hands.
Hazel stepped back, waiting for the zombie king to dissolve. Instead, Tarquin struggled to his feet, purple gas flickering weakly in his eye sockets.
“I have lived for millennia,” he snarled. “You could not kill me with a thousand tons of stone, Hazel Levesque. You will not kill me with a sword.”
I thought Hazel might fly at him and rip his skull off with her bare hands. Her rage was so palpable I could smell it like an approaching storm. Wait…I did smell an approaching storm, along with other forest scents: pine needles, morning dew on wildflowers, the breath of hunting dogs.
A large silver wolf licked my face. Lupa? A hallucination? No…a whole pack of the beasts had trotted into the store and were now sniffing the bookshelves and the piles of zombie dust.
Behind them, in the doorway, stood a girl who looked about twelve, her eyes silver-yellow, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed for the hunt in a shimmering gray frock and leggings, a white bow in her hand. Her face was beautiful, serene, and as cold as the winter moon.
She nocked a silver arrow and met Hazel’s eyes, asking permission to finish her kill. Hazel nodded and stepped aside. The young girl aimed at Tarquin.
“Foul undead thing,” she said, her voice hard and bright with power. “When a good woman puts you down, you had best stay down.”
Her arrow lodged in the center of Tarquin’s forehead, splitting his frontal bone. The king stiffened. The tendrils of purple gas sputtered and dissipated. From the arrow’s point of entry, a ripple of fire the color of Christmas tinsel spread across Tarquin’s skull and down his body, disintegrating him utterly. His gold crown, the silver arrow, and Hazel’s sword all dropped to the floor.
I grinned at the newcomer. “Hey, Sis.”
Apollo
Hazel Levesque
Diana
Meg Mccaffrey
Tarquin
Lester Papadopoulos
The Tyrant’s Tomb
“So,” I said, making a second attempt at nonchalance, “are you and Thalia, er…?”
Reyna raised an eyebrow. “Involved romantically?”
“Well, I just…I mean…Um…”
Oh, very smooth, Apollo. Have I mentioned I was once the god of poetry?
Reyna rolled her eyes. “If I had a denarius for every time I got that question…Aside from the fact that Thalia is in the Hunters, and thus sworn to celibacy…Why does a strong friendship always have to progress to romance? Thalia’s an excellent friend. Why would I risk messing that up?”
“Uh—”
“That was a rhetorical question,” Reyna added. “I do not need a response.”
“I know what rhetorical means.” I made a mental note to double-check the word’s definition with Socrates the next time I was in Greece.”
Friendship
Romance
Apollo
Reyna Avila Ramírez Arellano
Thalia Grace
Lester Papadopoulos
Hunters Of Artemis
Rehetoric
The Tyrant’s Tomb
“Frank rose, tugged at his shirt, then didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. At one time, I would have been used to such nervous behavior from mortals I encountered, but now, it took me a moment to realize Frank was still in awe of me. Perhaps, being a shape-shifter, Frank was more willing than most to believe that, despite my unimpressive mortal appearance, I was still the same old god of archery inside.
You see? I told you Frank was adorable.”
Apollo
Frank Zhang
Lester Papadopoulos
Advice I Ignored: Stories and Wisdom from a Formerly Depressed Teenager
“People who have never dealt with mental illness will never understand know how legitimately triumphant it feels to decide to take a shower and then actually do it.”
Depression
Triumph
Progress
Recovery
Mental Illness
Depression Recovery
Executive Function
Advice I Ignored: Stories and Wisdom from a Formerly Depressed Teenager
“No matter how good I was, no matter how much I pleaded for it or worked for it, I could never make everyone understand me. If my self-esteem was dependent on other people’s feelings, it would never be under control. I’d be on a ship rocking back and forth between emptiness and salvation, never able to really find my feet. ”
Self Esteem
Depression
Self Image
Teenagers
Depression Recovery
Teenage Angst
Advice I Ignored: Stories and Wisdom from a Formerly Depressed Teenager
“Sometimes life’s a shit boat, and it feels like nothing’s ever gone right. And sometimes the only comfort you have is the fact that other people are also in your awful situation. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll make them feel a little less alone.”
Friendship
Trauma
Sexual Assault
Depression Recovery
Teenage Angst
Advice I Ignored: Stories and Wisdom from a Formerly Depressed Teenager
“And I know I’d rather be happy and bland than tortured and interesting. Yet, sometimes it still makes me angry, that I don’t have the option to destroy myself anymore.”
Depression
Mental Health
Recovery
Depression Recovery
Teenage Angst
“Far from me, heretics
Whom the Church has condemned
With all their fancy practices
And their sophisticated books;
Far from me, Calvinism!
Far from me, Jansenism!
I serve God with my whole heart,
It is my glory and my joy.”
Calvinism
Jansenism
“Far from me, heretics
Whom the Church has condemned
With all their fancy practices
And their sophisticated books; Far from me, Calvinism!
Far from me, Jansenism!
I serve God with my whole heart,
It is my glory and my joy.”
Calvinism
Jansenism
Blessed John Henry Newman Collection
“And, I rejoice to say, to one great mischief I have from the first opposed myself. For thirty, forty, fifty years I have resisted to the best of my powers the spirit of liberalism in religion. Never did Holy Church need champions against it more sorely than now, when, alas! it is an error overspreading, as a snare, the whole earth; and on this great occasion, when it is natural for one who is in my place to look out upon the world, and upon Holy Church as in it, and upon her future, it will not, I hope, be considered out of place, if I renew the protest against it which I have made so often.”
Liberalism
Biglietto Speech
Modernism In The Church
“Be true to God in everything that you say and do, don't be fake; don't shed crocodile tears, do not decieve anybody, do not conceal the truth because God sees everything, God knows all things, God is everywhere. You cannot hide from God. God will always reveal the truth against all odds. The world will see right through you.....
Yeah...
God Our Protector Keep My Faith:Biblical Verses 6, a book by Stellah Mupanduki.”
Justice
The Truth
Presence Of God
God Our Protector
In Truth
False Gods
“You're right, Mal, you and Erebus both. My father made me for immortality and the galaxy should know of me. Ten thousand years from now I want my name to be known all across the heavens."
- Warmaster Horus”
The Black Library
The Horus Heresy
Amish Front Porch Stories: 18 Short Tales of Simple Faith and Wisdom
“A simple action is all that is needed to show God’s love to a neighbor.” ~from Simple Actions by Wanda Brunstetter”
Inspirational Fiction
Amish Fiction
The Arrangement
“They ordered all the things they'd never eaten before, things from the sea: Venus clams and whelks, potatoes pressed with caviar, champagne and Chambertin, Rex finally pulling the waiter aside and asking for more caviar, making a bowl with his giant hands, the best caviar he'd ever eaten, and by god, he wanted his fill.
They would eat caviar all across the city that week, in fine restaurants and cafés and bistros, mounded in ice bowls, from tiny ivory spoons, spread on toast, on blinis, on eggs and potatoes, but Rex would always return to that first night, his first bite, and how he would never have another as good.”
Seafood
Caviar
The Braindead Megaphone
“Am I oversimplifying here? Yes. Is all our media stupid? Far from it. Were intelligent, valuable things written about the rush to war (and about O.J. and Monica, and then Laci Peterson and Michael Jackson, et al.)? Of course.
But: Is some of our media very stupid? Hoo boy. Does stupid, near-omnipresent media make us more tolerant toward stupidity in general? It would be surprising if it didn’t.
Is human nature such that, under certain conditions, stupidity can come to dominate, infecting the brighter quadrants, dragging everybody down with it?”
Writers
News
Media
Stupidity
Information
Information Overload
Dumbing Down
The Arrangement
“
Soufflé! Omelets with burnt sugar, like we used to get at Aux Trois Faisons, with our initials burned into the crust. The Tuileries! the wind biting at our coats. We walk and walk and walk
(so as to wear out Mrs. Parrish so that when they did return, she was exhausted. She begged off dinner. She began to lose weight, they all did, even though they ate the lunches of duck, creamed Brussels sprouts with lardons, terrine, confit,
fromage blanc
, steak tartare with shimmering soft-set eggs, brioche).”
Letters
French Food
Mfk Fisher
The Arrangement: A Novel
“In the deep sauté, she has made a stew: eggplant and tomatoes, onions and summer squash, a sort of ratatouille,
tiella, samfina, pisto
, there are as many names for it as countries, and she has stopped caring for all the names of things. She has made stew, and there are ripe peaches and cream for dessert, a few bottles of wine to choose from.”
French Cooking
Mfk Fisher
The Arrangement
“Lucullus placed a live fish in a glass jar in front of every diner at his table. The better the death, the better the meal would taste.
Catherine de Medici brought her cooks to France when she married, and those cooks brought sherbet and custard and cream puffs, artichokes and onion soup, and the idea of roasting birds with oranges. As well as cooks, she brought embroidery and handkerchiefs, perfumes and lingerie, silverware and glassware and the idea that gathering around a table was something to be done thoughtfully. In essence, she brought being French to France.
Everything started somewhere else. She thought of Tim's note:
write to me
. He didn't want to hear about Lucullus and Catherine de Medici; but she loved her old tomes and the things unearthed there, the ballast they lent, the safety of information. She spread her notebooks open across the table. There was a recipe for roasted locusts from ancient Egypt, and on the facing page, her own memory of the first thing she ever cooked, the curry sauce and Anne's chocolate.”
Ancient History
Famous Chefs
Old Recipes
Mfk Fisher
Catherine De Medicis
The Arrangement
“From a long board, he watched her rake a pile into the stockpot: tomatoes and garlic, orange peel and bay, the heads and spines and tails of a dozen sardines. She plunged a knife into a spider crab and split it in two, tossing it after. She hadn't noticed Al standing behind her.
He cleared his throat, and she swung around.
"Oh, goodness," she said.
"You've been busy."
She held to his face a mortar of green pounded herbs and garlic, a rouille so sharp it made his eyes water. And then a hard loaf of bread, white fish steaks translucent as china; she put a salted almond in his mouth, a crust dipped into the stockpot, her finger. She was giddy, beautiful, his wife.
She poured the stock through a strainer, pressing on the bones and shells with the back of a wooden spoon. She poached the fish steaks, some tiny rings and tangles of squid, picking out the mussels as they opened; she toasted bread; she warmed a Delft tureen with boiling water. She set the table, handing a cold bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and a corkscrew to him.
"There's so much in this kitchen," she whispered.
"Is Gigi here?"
"No, not ever, I don't think. But she's got every kind of gadget. Look at this. Do you know what this is?" She held up a Bakelite-handled comb with a dozen tines.
Al waited.
"It's for slicing cake," she said.”
Cooking
Seafood
Utensil
Mfk Fisher
The Arrangement
“The market smelled of hay and roasted nuts; she bought a newspaper cone of almonds from a woman stirring them over an open fire. She bought thick sandy leeks, a rope of garlic and a pound of tomatoes; she bought a long
batard
of sourdough bread, a dozen bluish speckled eggs, a jar of cream, because now she had a refrigerator and could keep such things for more than an hour or two. She lifted the paper lid of the cream and tasted it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand; she remembered the pillowy clouds of Gruyère grated onto her piece of waxed paper at Les Halles, the cheese maker young and handsome and milk-fed himself; he tried to teach her the French for being in love with him:
mon cocotte, mon chouchou, ma petit lapin, Madame, s'il vous plaît
.
She walked the stalls, and on the edge of the market, a fishmonger laid out his catch on two blocks of ice: strange curled squids and spider crabs, silvery piles of sardines, their eyes still sparkling, thick slabs of some white-meated fish, its head as big as a dinner plate.”
French
Seafood
French Food
Farmers Market
Mfk Fisher
The Arrangement
“She browned onions and garlic, and from the pot on the windowsill, chopped a few winter-sad leaves of tarragon. The smell was green and strong, and she thought of spring.
Spring in Dijon, when she and Al would hike into the mountains with the Club Alpin, the old women forever chiding her tentative steps, her newborn French:
la petite violette, violette américaine
. She would turn back to Al, annoyed, and he would laugh. Hardly his delicate flower. When they stopped for lunch, it was Mary Frances with the soufflé of calves' brains, whatever was made liver or marrow, ordering enough strong wine that everyone was laughing. The way home, the women let her be.
If she wanted calves' brains now, she wouldn't even know where to begin to look or how to pay. She and Al seemed to be living on vegetables and books, tobacco, quiet. She blanched a bunch of spinach and chopped it. She beat eggs with the tarragon, heated the skillet once again. There was a salad of avocados and oranges. There was a cold bottle of ale and bread. Enough, for tonight.”
Reminiscing
Spring
French Food
Offal
French Cooking
Mfk Fisher
Journal of a Solitude
“Every flower holds the whole mystery in its short cycle, and in the garden we are never far away from death, the fertilizing, good, creative death.”
Death
Flowers
Gardening
Fertile Creativity
共123578条
上一页
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
下一页
最后一页
热搜推荐
that
That
tion
Tion
Thin
Have
Thơ
very
Life
When
love
Ness
ally
them
people
Come
More
World
Real
Stan
Neve
less
Because
Though
Where
Ying
Itä
Right
Heart
Said