Ruth Downie Quotes

“Back from where? you're not going out again and leaving me here are you?? Holy Hercules I sound like somebody's wife”

“If shame had a face I think itwould kind of look like mineIf it had a home would it be my eyesWould you believe me if I said I'm tired of thisWell here we go now one more timeI tried to climb your stepsI tried to chase you downI tried to see how low I could get it down to the groundI tried to earn my wayI tried to tame this mindYou better believe that I tried to beat this[CHORUS]So when will this end it goes on and onOver and over and over againKeep spinning around I know that it won't stopTill I step down from this for goodI never thought I'd end up hereNever thought I'd be standing where I amI guess I kinda thought it would be easier than thisI guess I was wrong now one more timeI tried to climb your stepsI tried to chase you downI tried to see how long I could get it down to the groundI tried to earn my wayI tried to tame this mindYou better believe that I tried yo beat this[REPEAT CHORUS]Sick cycle carouselThis is a sick sycle, yeahSick cycle carouselThis is a sick cycle, yeah[REPEAT CHORUS TWICE]Sick cycle carouselSick cycle carouselSick cycle carousel...”

“Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit,And look on death itself!”

“What matters most:"What he had yearned to embrace was not the flesh but a downy spirit, a spark, the impalpable angel that inhabits the flesh."Wind, Sand and Stars.”

“Quid nomen tibi est? She was not about to offer her name up to a stranger. It was almost the only thing she possessed that nobody had stolen.”

“He then put both hands on the door on either side of my head and leaned in close, pinning me against it. I trembled like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf. The wolf came closer. He bent his head and began nuzzling my cheek. The problem was…I wanted the wolf to devour me.”

“A Book I Can Put DownI’m halfway throughand I’ve gotten usedto the way it wantsto be read. This writerwants to spoon it up,wants to watch meswallow it. This writermakes a point of gooddeeds, clean living,god and country,when what I wantis sin and shame,the rusty metal edgeof cruelty, varietiesof pain, his motherstill crying years later,just like mine. I wanta writer who’s given upon the moral of the story,one who’ll hand mea knife and sit backto see what I do wi”

“Whatever happens in the world - whatever is discovered or created or bitterly fought over - eventually ends up, in one way or another, in your house. Wars, famine, the Industrial Revolution, the Enlightenment - they are all there in your sofas and chests of drawers, tucked into the folds of your curtains, in the downy softness of your pillows, in the paint on your walls and the water in your pipes. So the history of household life isn't just a history of beds and sofas and kitchen stoves ... but of scurvy and guano and the Eiffel Tower and bedbugs and body-snatching and just about everything else that has ever happened. Houses aren't refuges from history. They are where history ends up.”

“Three years with Claudia had taught Ruso that when a woman said something did not matter and refused to tell you what it was, it usually mattered a great deal—to her, if not to you. Frequently her way of punishing you for not knowing what it was in the first place was to refuse to tell you until you gave up asking. This was her cue to accuse you of not caring about her, otherwise you would have known what she wanted you to know without having to be told. Finally, if you were lucky, she would explain the latest way in which you had failed her expectations. If you were not lucky, she would explain...”

“One of the many difficult things about women was that they tended to pick the most unsuitable times to tell you something they considered to be important, and then became irrationally upset when you failed to remember it.”