Flowers for Algernon Quotes - Page 3 | Just Great DataBase

Three blind mice, three blind mice,See how they run, see how they run,They all ran after the farmer's wife,Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,Did you ever see such a thing in your life,As three blind mice?

I hated her as I had never hated anyone before—with her easy answers and maternal fussing. I wanted to slap her face, to make her crawl, and then to hold her in my arms and kiss her.

It's confusing, but I'm going to find out all about my life.

Shut up!Leave him alone! He cant understand. He cant help what he is ... but for God's sake, have some respect! He's a human being!

Somehow I’ve become separated emotionally from everyone and everything. And what I was really searching for out there in the dark streets—the last damned place I could ever find it—was a way to make myself a part of people again emotionally, while still retaining my freedom intellectually. I’ve got to grow up. For me it means everything. . . .

No one can ever know in advance if a project is going to result in something useful. Results are often negative. We learn what something is not—and that is as important as a positive discovery to the man who is going to pick up from there. At least he knows what not to do.

She had agreed to go away when i tell her to go. It's painful to think about that, but what we have, I suspect, is more than most people find in a lifetime.

The most important thing had always been what other people thought - appearances before herself or her family. And righteous about it.

Life and work are the most wonderful things a man can have. I am in love with what I am doing, because the answer to this problem is right here in my mind, and soon—very soon—it will burst into consciousness.

Door’s open! she shouted. She was in her underwear, lying on the floor, arms outstretched and legs up against the couch. She tilted her head back and looked at me upside down. Charlie, darling! Why are you standing on your head?

My confused feeling for her had been holding me back, and I had to clung to her out of my fear of being forced out on my own, and cut adrift.

My mind is a blank. At this point my feelings are more important than anything else.

Each day I learn more and more about myself, and the memories that began to ripples now wash over in high breaking waves...

Every part of me is attuned to the work. I soak it up into my pores during the day, and at night--in the moments before I pass off into sleep--ideas explode into my head like fireworks. There is no greater joy than the burst of solution to a problem.

That's the most important thing. If I keep reading, maybe I can hold my own.

Thoughts of suicide to stop it all now while I am still in control and aware of the world around me. But then I think of Charlie waiting at the window. His life is not mine to throw away. I've just borrowed it for a while, and now I'm being asked to return it.

The more she talked that way, the worse I felt. She highlighted my awkwardness, my lack of knowledge about the right things to say and do. I was a blundering adolescent in her eyes, and she was trying to let me down easy.

What's right? Ironic that all my intelligence doesn't help me solve a problem like this.

If your smart you can have lots of frends to talk to and you never get lonley by yourself all the time.

If your smart you can have lots of frends to talk to and you never get lonley by yourself all the time. Prof

I wanted to get up and show everyone what a fool he was, to shout at him: I'm a human being, a person - with parents and memories and a history - and I was before you wheeled me into that operating room!

So even if I’m getting intelligent and learning a lot of new things, he thinks I’m still a boy about women. It’s confusing, but I’m going to find out all about my life.

Other people had something I lacked something denied me. In my mental blindness, I had believed it was somehow connected with the ability to read and write, and I was sure that if I could get those skills I would have intelligence too.Even a feeble-minded man wants to be like other men. A child may not know how to feed itself, or what to eat, yet it knows hunger.

Intelligence without the ability to give and receive affection leads to mental and moral breakdown, to neurosis, and possibly even psychosis.

You can't have everything you want in one woman. One more argument for polygamy.

But I know now there’s one thing you’ve all overlooked: intelligence and education that hasn’t been tempered by human affection isn’t worth a damn.

The more intelligent you become the more problems you’ll have,

I dont no what sience is but they all keep saying it so maybe its someting that helps you have good luk.

Algernon is so smart he has to solve a problem with a lock that changes every time he goes in to eat so he has to lern something new to get his food. That made me sad because if he coulnt lern he wouldnt be able to eat and he would be hungry.

I was on a down escalator now. If I stood still I’d go all the way to the bottom, but if I started to run up maybe I could at least stay in the same place. The important thing was to keep moving upward no matter what happened.

I just want to be smart like other pepul so I can have lots of frends who like me.

how foolish I was ever to have thought that professors were intellectual giants. They’re people—and afraid the rest of the world will find out.

I was afraid it would come to this, but I have no patience with her now. I'm jealous of every moment away from the work - impatient with any one who tries to steal my time.

Time assumes another dimension now - work and absorption in the search for an answer.

Unlike Charlie, I was incapable of making friends or thinking about other people and their problems. I was interested in myself, and myself only. Fr one long moment in that mirror I had seen myself through Charlie's eyes - looked down at myself and saw what I had really become. And I was ashamed.

Its easy to have frends if you let pepul laff at you. Im going to have lots of frends where I go. PPS. please if you get a chanse put some flowrs on Algernons grave in the back yard.

Every part of me is attuned to the work. I soak it up to my pores during the day, and at night - in the moments before I pass off into sleep - ideas explode into my head like fireworks.

I am afraid. Not of live, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if it had never been.

This is beauty, love, and truth all rolled into one. This is joy. And now that I've found it, how can I give it up? Life and work are the most wonderful things a man can have.

I pray God it is the answer I want, but if not I will accept any answer at all and try to be grateful for what I had.

How many great men didn't know enough, or have enough faith in the creative process and in themselves, to let go for the whole mind to work at it?