Quotes - Page 164 | Just Great DataBase

Fish," the old man said. "Fish, you are going to have to die anyway. Do you have to kill me too?

That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.

Such were her thoughts, though she lacked the words to express them.

Say not a word in death's favor; I would rather be a paid servant in a poor man's house and be above ground than king of kings among the dead." -Achilles

What is leave? – a pause that only makes everything after it so much worse.

There are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water.

I’d like to live that seemingly carefree and happy life for an evening, a few days, a week. At the end of that week I’d be exhausted, and would be grateful to the first person to talk to me about something meaningful.

One of these days," she said, "I'm going to pull myself together for a while and think - try to determine what character of a woman I am, for, candidly, I do not know. By all the codes which I am acquainted with, I am a devilishly wicked specimen of the sex. But some way I can't convince myself that I am. I must think about it.

You disgust me, all of you, with your happiness! With your life that must be loved at all costs. […] I spit on your idea of life! […] You are all like dogs that lick everything they smell! […] I do not want to understand. I am here for something other than understanding. I am here to tell you no, and to die. To tell you no and to die.

It ain't time to worry yet. I'll let you know when.

Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.

I look for John Proctor that took me from my sleep and put knowledge in my heart! I never knew what pretence Salem was, I never knew the lying lessons I was taught by all these Christian women and their covenanted men! And now you bid me tear the light out of my eyes! I will not, I cannot! You loved me, John Proctor, and whatever sin it is, you love me yet!

غداً، وغداً، وغداً،وكل غد يزحف بهذه الخطى الحقيرة يوماً إثر يومحتى المقطع الأخير من الزمن المكتوب،وإذا كل أماسينا قد أنارت للحمقى المساكينالطريق إلى الموت والتراب، ألا انطفئي، يا شمعةوجيزة!ما الحياة إلا ظل يمشي، ممثل مسكينيتبختر ويستشيط ساعته على المسرح،ثم لا يسمعه أحد: إنها حكايةيحكيها معتوه، ملؤها الصخب والعنف،ولا تعنى أى شىء

For mines are for men, not for money. And money is not something to go mad about, and throw your hat into the air for. Money is for food and clothes and comfort, and a visit to the pictures. Money is to make happy the lives of children. Money is for security, and for dreams, and for hopes, and for purposes. Money is for buying the fruits of the earth, of the land where you were born.

Oh blind, oh ignorant, self-seeking cupidity whcih spurs as so in the short mortal life and steeps as through all eternity.

The clouds appeared and went away, and in a while they did not try anymore.

The fields were fruitful, and starving men moved on the roads.

There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success.

I, measuring his affections by my own,Which then most sought where most might not be found,Being one too many by my weary self,Pursued my humor not pursuing his,And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.

I had no particular desire to enlighten them, but I had some difficulty in restraining myself from laughing in their faces, so full of stupid importance.