Quotes - Page 134 | Just Great DataBase

His hand took hold of hers, and as she said something low in his ear he turned toward her with a rush of emotion. I think that voice held him most, with its fluctuating, feverish warmth, because it couldn’t be over-dreamed —that voice was a deathless song.

He had been full of the idea so long, dreamed it right through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at an inconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was running down like an overwound clock.

The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.

I wouldn't ask too much of her," I ventured. "You can't repeat the past.""Can't repeat the past? he cried incredulously. "Why of course you can!

Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.

Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.

I just thought you'd like to know I can read. You got anything needs readin' I can do it.

summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the back screeneed porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the treehouse; summer was everything good to eat;it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape.

A mob's always made up of people, no matter what. Mr. Cunningham was part of a mob last night, but he was still a man. Every mob in every little Southern town is always made up of people you know--doesn't say much for them, does it?

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead. . . . . . . . . . . .And breathed such life with kisses in my lipsThat I revived and was an emperor.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;Life and these lips have long been separated:Death lies on her like an untimely frostUpon the sweetest flower of all the field.

I have a voice, too, and for good or evil mine is the speech that cannot be silenced

The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble...

To discover the mode of life or of art whereby my spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom.

Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray, sculptured stones.

Maman used to say that you can always find something to be happy about.

When a man is at peace with his gods and ancestors, his harvest will be good or bad according to the strength of his arm.

I see hundreds of men come by on the road an’ on the ranches with their bindles on their back an’ that same damn thing in their heads. Hundreds of them. They come, an’ they quit an’ go on; an’ every damn one of ‘em’s got a little piece of land in his head. An’ never a God damn one of ‘em ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’. I read plenty of books out there. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody never gets no land. It’s just in their head.

It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of.

When so many hours have been spent convincing myself I am right, is there not some reason to fear I may be wrong?