Quotes - Page 251 | Just Great DataBase

For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps,Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. UrchinsShall forth at vast of night that they may workAll exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinchedAs thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stingingThan bees that made 'em.

Sycorax has grown into a hoop

ARIEL. The charm dissolves apace, And, as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason. Their understanding Begins to swell: and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy.

Now I wantSpirits to enforce, art to enchant;And my ending is despair,Unless I be relieved by prayer

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam

The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head.

My dear Rikki, Karellen retorted, it’s only by not taking the human race seriously that I retain what fragments of my once considerable mental powers I still possess! Despite himself, Stormgren smiled.

Sometimes she stuck out into the future, imagining her life different from what is was.

The leaning of sophists toward the bypaths of apocrypha is a constant quantity. The highroads are dreary but they lead to the town.

You have never heard me talk much. But an intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend his time with fools.

...no on of intelligence resents the inevitable.

All around me the options seemed to be narrowing, as if I were hurtling down a huge black funnel, the whole world squeezing in tight.

Beauty: it curves, curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world admires.

The movements which work revolutions in the world are born out of the dreams and visions in a peasant's heart on the hillside. For them the earth is not an exploitable ground but the living mother.

Only big words for ordinary things on account of the sound.

And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind and O! then the Roman candle burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O!O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so lively! O so soft, sweet, soft!

Ten little Indian boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Come what might she would be wild, untrammelled, free.

Then Mount Jerome for the protestants. Funerals all over the world everywhere every minute. Shovelling them under by the cartload doublequick. Thousands every hour. Too many in the world.

Live in the present, make the most of it, it's all you've got.