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“If they tell me one more time that I'm using the wrong fork for a part of a meal, I swear I'll show them exactly how multifunctional the utensil can be.”
Jennifer Ellision“There are a thousand paths into the future, forks after forks in the road ahead. Who knows, if one road closes, maybe another opens in another universe . . . and your soul, your consciousness, leaps over to continue that journey ever forward, always finding the right path.”
James Rollins, The Eye of God“Grace, if you have used an iron within the last six months, I will eat that fork," Ms. Chancellor says."Which one?" I try to tease. "You've got a lot of forks to choose from.""From which to choose, Grace. Do not end your sentences in prepositions, dear.""Of course, I totally see what you're getting at. I mean, at what you're getting.”
Ally Carter, All Fall Down“Mom has reorganized the kitchen so that the one room that was everyone's room is foreign to me. My visits are punctuated with me whipping around, angrily demanding, "Where are the forks, WHY DID YOU MOVE THE FORKS?" and she has to calmly open the drawer on the other side of the kitchen as if she moved it just to ruin my life. I just found out where she puts the bowls and their new location feels like such a personal attack that I can barely talk about it without raising my blood pressure.”
Scaachi Koul, One Day We'll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter“Time forks perpetually toward innumerable futures. In one of them I am your enemy.”
Jorge Luis Borges, Collected Fictions“Whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, kid. She lives in Forks, remember? So she gets rained on.”
Stephenie Meyer“Fate isn’t one straight road…there are forks in it, many different routes to different ends. We have the free will to choose the path.”
Dean Koontz, Odd Thomas“Life takes up one long, winding road to fulfill its seemingly endless journey, and when we find ourselves stumble upon forks in the road, we choose wisely.”
Amani Abbas“The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;She shines on thieves on the garden wall,On streets and fields and harbour quays,And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.”
Robert Louis Stevenson