Quotes – Page 168 | Just Great DataBase

All that mysterious life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men.

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 here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land. It’s just in their head.

Mutual defiance made them alike.

One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sunNe’er saw her match since first the world begun.

Everything belonged to him–but that was a trifle. The thing to know was what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their own.

There was the same dazzling red glare. The sea gasped for air with each shallow, stifled wave that broke on the sand. …with every blade of light that flashed off the sand, from a bleached shell or a peice of broken glass, my jaws tightened. I walked for a long time.

But I never figured out how Atticus knew I was listening, and it was not until many years later that I realized he wanted me to hear every word he said.

Marianne Dashwood was born to an extraordinary fate. She was born to discover the falsehood of her own opinions, and to counteract, by her conduct, her most favourite maxims.

I think him every thing that is worthy and amiable.

Esteem him! Like him! Cold-hearted Elinor! Oh! worse than cold-hearted! Ashamed of being otherwise. Use those words again, and I will leave the room this moment.

Then he thought himself unhappy, but happiness was all in the future; now he felt that the best happiness was already in the past.

But in a story, which is a type of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world.

It’s not just the embarrassment of tears. That’s part of it, no doubt, but what embarrasses me much more, and always will, is the paralysis that took my heart. A moral freeze: I couldn’t decide, I couldn’t act, I couldn’t comport myself with even a pretense of modest human dignity.

PICKERING:Excuse the straight question, Higgins. Are you a man of good character where women are concerned?HIGGINS [moodily]:Have you ever met a man of good character where women are concerned?

Too much hard luck can create a permanent meanness of spirit in any creature.

a handful of crumpled stars

The supreme question about a work of art is out of how deep a life does it spring. Paintings of Moreau are paintings of ideas. The deepest poetry of Shelley, the words of Hamlet bring our mind into contact with the eternal wisdom; Plato’s world of ideas. All the rest is the speculation of schoolboys for schoolboys.

We are a society dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.

I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.

You find my words dark. Darkness is in our souls, do you not think?