Quotes About Value

Cassie Wright knows, the moment you make yourself available to any man, he starts to take you for granted

Anything pretty,' Claire will tell you, 'it's only for sale because no one wants it.

I told him to buy land, my mum says, they're not making it anymore.

Someday you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me.

You must realize that one day you will die. Until then you are worthless.

So you're the winner of this game show, Seth says, and you get a choice between a five-piece living room set from Broyhill, suggested retail price three thousand dollars— or—a ten-day trip to the old world charm of Europe. Most people, Seth says, would take the living room set. It's just that people want something to show for their effort, Seth says. Like the pharaohs and their pyramids.

Brandy is so attractive you could chop her head off and put it on blue velvet in the window at Tiffany's and somebody would buy it for a million dollars.

Find value in what we've been taught is worthless.

One minute was enough, Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort.

Making all effort resist absorption into American cult of the individual, traditional method entrenched oligarchy so maintain own power: Fracture citizen isolated into different religion, different race, different family. Label as rich cultural diversity. Cleave as unique until each citizen stand alone. Until each vote invested no value. Single citizen celebrated as special-in actual, remaining no power.

One minute was enough, Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.

Towles burn. Bathroom inferno! Chanel No. 5, it burns. Oil paintings of racehorses and dead pheasants burn. The reproduction Oriental carpets burn. Evie's bad dried flower arrangements, they're these little tabletop infernos. Too cute! Evie's Katty Kathy doll, it melts, then it burns. Evie's collection of big carnival stuffed animals—Cootie, Poochie, Pam-Pam, Mr. Bunnits, Choochie, Poo Poo and Ringer—it's fun-fur holocaust. Too sweet. Too precious.

Romance… affection… these are what give our lives value. They justify all the suffering of life. My goal is to always reinvent heroic romances and present larger-than-life characters that will inspire readers to fall in love and expand their own lives.

no, this wasn't about money. Not everything is about money

Do NOT die while wearing cheap shoes.

To the World He Was a Loser, But to Me He Was the World.

The entertainment value, the ability to titillate or provoke, came to be the litmus test of any new truth.

Duchess: Diamonds are of most value, They say, that have pass'd through most jewellers' hands. Ferdinand: Whores, by that rule, are precious. —John Webster, The Duchess of Malfi (I.ii)

It's a fucking Fiero, dude. It's twenty years old. It has 150,000 miles on it, which is practically what it takes to get to the moon. I'm going to bet if I open this thing up, it's going to smell like stale Drakkar Noir and chemical pine scent. There is probably a dead rat in the trunk. Maybe a whole nest of dead rats and rat babies. She finishes her drawing. (Spoiler alert: it's a penis.) You should really be paying me to take this burden of Detroit steel off your hands.

Everything means something, but not every something matters.

Sometimes what happened now was more important to her than what would happen later, so to hell with it.

exposure is not a measurable resource. If someone asks you to write for exposure, ask them how much exposure. Like, have them measure it. Will it be ten picameters of exposure? I usually ask at least seven nanoliters' worth. If they can prove it, fuck yeah, great. But exposure is a hard thing to prove. Let me utter my refrain yet again: Writers, like hikers, can die from exposure.

Together, they placed Trigger in a case all its own, clearing out the gold records that hung there. ("Gold records are bullshit," Pete said, throwing them behind them in a pile. They clattered as they fell—not the sound of metal against metal, but the sound of garbage against garbage. "Disposable. Not even real gold. Just some cheap shit vinyl they spray-paint.")

How can life be worth living, to use the words of Ennius, which lacks that repose which is to be found in the mutual good-will of a friend? What can be more delightful than to have some one to whom you can say everything with the same absolute confidence as to yourself? Is not prosperity robbed of half its value if you have no one to share your joy? On the other hand, misfortunes would be hard to bear if there were not some one to feel them even more acutely than yourself.