Best 9 quotes of Rikki Ducornet on MyQuotes

Rikki Ducornet

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    A book is a private thing, citizen; it belongs to the one who writes it and to the one who reads it. Like the mind itself, a book is a private space. Within that space, anything is possible. The greatest evil and the greatest good.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    An important memory is like a gravitational field--the mind is compelled to return to it again and again. It is like a moon; it lives in light and shadow.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    Cinematic and symphonic: this is a compelling story revealed in a sequence of voices that are as pitch-perfect as they are irresistible. This is a wonderfully impressive debut: tender, muscled and unforgettable.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    The child is born speaking the languages of birds; the child has horns and scales and wings; it has a beak; it has a cloven hoof. He is the sum of all creatures: the ones that swim, the ones that soar, the ones that leap, the ones that maze the earth with burrows.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    What are books but tangible dreams? What is reading if it is not dreaming? The best books cause us to dream; the rest are not worth reading.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    A fan is like the thighs of a woman: It opens and closes. A good fan opens with a flick of the wrist. It produces its own weather---a breeze not so strong as to muss the hair.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    I, sole heir to the Munodi line and memory, am childless. A friend who knows such things has told me that this explains my compulsion to capture what I can with black ink on white paper." ("The Volatilized Ceiling of Baron Munodi")

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    Next I prayed to Allah, whose ears are deaf; then did I beseech his fallen twin, the Devil Hornprick, who sits upon his thorn of fire, gloating upon his constellations and counting his bloody seeds. In Baclava it is said Hornprick once caught a glimpse of the First Woman, as she sat singing to her snake in her chamber of sacred mud. Dazzled by her sight, the light of love and lust, he fell. He is still falling. For all eternity her breasts orbit his dreams.

  • By Anonym
    Rikki Ducornet

    The purpose of myth, therefore, is to both reveal and conceal. To tell what we have seen and disguise it, to mask God's forked tongue.