Quotes - Page 118 | Just Great DataBase

No matter what all your teeth and wet fingers anticipated, there was no accounting for the way that simple joy could shake you.

I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.

Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.-Elizabeth Bennet

Well, my dear," said Mr. Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, "if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness—if she should die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders.

The phrase booze and mischief left me worrying I'd stumbled into what my mother referred to as "the wrong crowd," but for the wrong crowd, they both seemed awfully smart.

Yea, and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep,even so I will endure…For already have I suffered full much,and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war.Let this be added to the tale of those.

He had seen me several times, and had intended to call on me long before, but a peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it.

If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that registered earthquakes ten thousand miles away.

Why have you come to me here, dear heart, with all these instructions? I promise you I will do everything just as you ask. But come closer. Let us give in to grief, however briefly, in each other's arms.

I'm sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.

Macbeth:If we should fail?Lady Macbeth:We fail?But screw your courage to the sticking place,And we'll not fail.

The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wondersAt out quaint spirits.

I had to keep on acting deaf if i wanted to hear at all.

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love.Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!O any thing, of nothing first create!O heavy lightness! Serious vanity!Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!This love feel I, that feel no love in this.Dost thou not laugh?

Everything is true, and nothing is true!

Says he foun' he jus' got a little piece of a great big soul. Says a wilderness ain't no good, 'cause his little piece of a soul wasn't no good 'less it was with the rest, an' was whole.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch,And out of her own goodness make the netThat shall enmesh them all.

If after every tempest come such calms,May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!