Quotes - Page 267 | Just Great DataBase

Poor little place,' he murmured with a sigh.She heard him. He said the most melancholy things, but she noticed that directly he had said them he always seemed more cheerful than usual. All this phrase-making was a game, she thought, for if she had said half what he said, she would have blown her brains out by now.

Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships…pinched it in to such a little bit of a thing that she could tie it about her granddaughter’s neck tight enough to choke her…She had found a jewel inside herself and she had wanted to walk where people could see her and gleam it around. But she had been set in the market-place to sell.

Ah done lived Grandma’s way, now Ah means tuh live mine.

Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler?

Okay, kids,' Dad said, 'the civilians are revolting. We better skedaddle.

Now my charms are all o'erthrown...

You can't fix your mistakes. Once people are dead, you can't make them undead.

The police, as servants of law, must be of a high order of integrity. For their word is perforce believed by the virtue of their profession.

Science can destroy religion by ignoring it as well as by disproving its tenets.

The truth you speak doth lack some gentlenessAnd time to speak it in. You rub the soreWhen you should bring the plaster.

The story' Sanders would say "the whole tone, man, you're wrecking it."Tone?'The sound. You need to get a consitent sound, like slow or fast, funny or sad. All these disgressions, they just screw up your story's sound. Stick to what happened.

Funny, just this minute he didn't want much to get away from the island.

She had done the usual trick - been nice. She would never know him. He would never know her. Human relations were all like that, she thought, and the worst were between men and women. Inevitably these were extremely insincere.

What seest thou elseIn the dark backward and abysm of time?

But the stillness and the brightness of the day were as strange as the chaos and tumult of night, with the trees standing there, and the flowers standing there, looking before them, looking up, yet beholding nothing, eyeless, and so terrible.

Man was, therefore, still a prisoner on his own planet. It was much fairer, but a much smaller, planet than it had been a century before. When the Overlords abolished war and hunger and disease, they had also abolished adventure.

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.

They shared the weight of memory. They took up what others could no longer bear. Often, they carried each other, the wounded or weak.

For no reason, but the sunrise, the bay of Naples, the sea—you look at them and it makes you sad. What’s most revolting is that one is really sad! No, it’s better at home. Here at least one blames others for everything and excuses oneself.

Common sense, common care, common prudence, were all sunk in Mrs. Dashwood's romantic delicacy.