Still, the better she could draw, the worse her life got—until nothing in her real world was good enough. It got until she didn’t belong anywhere. It got so nobody was good enough, refined enough, real enough. Not the boys in high school. Not the other girls. Nothing was as real as her imagined world.
Before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself.
— Do not believe in something simply because you have heard it, Nima.
— But great Lama, Tenzin is my brother. He works inside the tunnel, where the ships are built. But where is in your wisdom, great Lama, if Tenzin is right... what if our world is indeed coming to an end? [Rinpoche responds by pouring tea into Tenzin's cup, causing it to overflow] — It is full, great Rinpoche.
— Like this cup, you are full of opinions and speculations. To see the light of wisdom... you first must empty your cup. [Tosses Nima the truck's keys]
Be careful with the clutch... it tends to slip.
She was a significant type emotionally.
There was something there—artistically, temperamentally, which was far and beyond the keenest suspicion of the herd.
He did not know himself quite what it was, but he felt a largeness of feeling not altogether squared with intellect, or perhaps better yet, experience, which was worthy of any man's desire.
"This remarkable girl," he thought, seeing her clearly in his mind's eye.