Quotes – Page 284 | Just Great DataBase

His sensitive nature was still smarting under the lashes of an undivided and squalid way of life. His soul was still disquieted and cast down by the dull phenomenon of Dublin. He had emerged from a two years’ spell of revery to find himself in the midst of a new scene, every event and figure of which affected him intimately, disheartened him or allured and, whether alluring or disheartening, filled him always with unrest and bitter thoughts. All the leisure which his school life left him was passed in the company of subversive writers whose jibes and violence of speech set up a ferment in his brain before they passed out of it into his crude writings.

         O mistress mine! Where are you roaming?          O, stay and hear: your true love’s coming,               That can sing both high and low. 40            Trip no further, pretty sweeting;          Journeys end in lovers meeting,               Every wise man’s son doth know.

May knowledge come to us! What is this secret our heart has understood and yet will not reveal to us, although it seems to beat as if it were endeavoring to tell it?

Since I had peeped over the edge myself, I understand better the meaning of his stare, that could not see the flame of the candle, but was wide enough to embrace the whole universe, piercing enough to penetrate all the hearts that beat in the darkness. He had summed it up – he had judged. “The horror!

Prejudice

He burned to appease the fierce longings of his heart before which everything else was idle and alien. He cared little that he was in mortal sin, that his life had grown to be a tissue of subterfuge and falsehood. Beside the savage desire within him to realize the enormities which he brooded on nothing was sacred. He bore cynically with the shameful details of his secret riots in which he exulted to defile with patience whatever image had attracted his eyes. By day and by night he moved among distorted images of the outer world. A figure that had seemed to him by day demure and innocent came towards him by night through the winding darkness of sleep, her face transfigured by a lecherous cunning, her eyes bright with brutish joy. Only the morning pained him with its dim memory of dark orgiastic riot, its keen and humiliating sense of transgression.

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,/ Wherein the…enemy does much.

Fella had a team of horses, had to use’em to plow an’ cultivate an’ mow, wouldn’t think a turnin’ ’em out to starve when they wasn’t workin’.Them’s horses – we’re men.

My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to expressed them.

What kind o’ man is he?””Why, of mankind.

For the word “We” must never be spoken, save by one’s choice and as a second thought. This word must never be placed first within man’s soul, else it becomes a monster, the root of all the evils on earth, the root of man’s torture by men, and of an unspeakable lie.The word “We” is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens to stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and that which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the word by which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which the weak steal the might of the strong, by which the fools steal the wisdom of the sages.

That is how I explained myself to the strange impression I had of being odd man out, a kind of intruder.

He became absorbed beyond mere happiness as he felt himself exercising control over living things.

So Lizzy,’ said he one day, ‘your sister is crossed in love I find. I congratulate her. Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then. It is something to think of, and gives her a sort of distinction among her companions.

Viola to Duke Orsino: ‘I’ll do my best To woo your lady.'[Aside.] ‘Yet, a barful strife! Whoe’er I woo, myself would be his wife.

fortune

ORSINIO: Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand timesThou never shouldst love woman like to me.VIOLA:And all those sayings will I overswear;And those swearings keep as true in soulAs doth that orbèd continent the fireThat severs day from night.

Call it what you like,’ said the Cat. ‘Do you play croquet with the Queen to-day?’ ‘I should like it very much,’ said Alice, ‘but I haven’t been invited yet.’ ‘You’ll see me there,’ said the Cat, and vanished.

And I tried to listen again, because the prosecutor started talking about my soul.

Then the clouds opened and let down the rain like a waterfall. The water bounded from the mountain-top, tore leaves and branches from the trees, poured like a cold shower over the straggling heap on the sand. Presently the heap broke up and the figures broke away. Only the beast lay still, a few yards from the sea. Even in the rain they could see how small it was; and already its blood was staining the sand