Quotes - Page 315 | Just Great DataBase

So I learned that after a single day's experience of the outside world a man could easily live a hundred years in prison.

The one-eyed man watched them go, and then he went through the iron shed to his shack behind. It was dark inside. He felt his way to the mattress on the floor, and he stretched out and cried in his bed, and the cars whizzing by on the highway only strengthened the walls of his loneliness.

Of course we’re frightened sometimes but we put up with being frightened.

The distance is nothing, when one has a motive.

You know you can't be a nice girl inside if you're a dirty slut outside

Soft you; a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know't.— No more of that.—I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely, but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but,

Nothing mattered, and I knew why. So did he. Throughout the whole absurd life I'd lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind levelled whatever was offered to me at the time

There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil - a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.

What is life but a series of inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it doesn't come every day.

To mourn a mischief that is past and goneIs the next way to draw new mischief on.

Tidak ada yang lebih menipu daripada kerendahan hati. Seringkali itu hanya menjadi ungkapan semata, dan terkadang justru disampaikan untuk menyombongkan diri secara diam-diam.

What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,Patience her injury a mockery makes.

When I was first imprisoned, the hardest thing was that my thoughts were still those of a free man.

She knew Paul D was adding something to her life—something she wanted to count on but was scared to... His waiting eyes and awful human power. The mind of him that knew her own. Her story was bearable because it was his as well—to tell, to refine and tell again. The things neither knew about the other—the things neither had word-shapes for—well, it would come in time.

inarticulate in his effort to express mankind’s essential illness.

El que ella no se lo reproche, no lo justifica a él. Solo demuestra que ella carece de algo, bien de prudencia, bien de sentimiento.

You see, we're all savages, more or less. We're supposed to be civilized and cultured—to know all about poetry and philosophy and art and science, and so on; but how many of us know even the meanings of these names?

My story being done,She gave me for my pains a world of sighs:She swore,––in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange;'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'dThat heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me,And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,I should but teach him how to tell my story.And that would woo her.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n,Let him not know't and he's not robb'd at all.