Quotes - Page 326 | Just Great DataBase

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

Janie full of that oldest human longing - self-revelation.

Io ne tirai la conclusione che la gente era stramba, e basta.

Going to a dark bed there was a square round Sinbad the Sailor roc's auk's egg in the night of the bed of all the auks of the rocs of Darkinbad the Brightdayler.

No hay fuego ni frío que pueda desafiar a lo que un hombre guarda entre los fantasmas de su corazón.

They stood there, isolated from the rest of the world. His immense self-pity, his demand for sympathy poured and and spread itself in pools at her feet, and all she did, miserable sinner that she was, was to draw her skirts a little closer round her ankles, lest she should get wet.

often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us.

His food doesn't stick going down, does it?

I learned that words are no good; that words dont ever fit even what they are trying to say at

OEDIPUS:O, O, O, they will all come,all come out clearly! Light of the sun, let melook upon you no more after today!I who first saw the light bred of a matchaccursed, and accursed in my livingwith them I lived with, cursed in my killing.

Sometimes I act a lot older than I am- I really do- but people never notice it. People never notice anything.

You're a rotten driver," I protested. "Either you ought to be more careful, or you oughtn't drive at all.""I am careful.""No you're not.""Well, other people are," she said lightly."What's that got to do with it?""They'll keep out of my way," she insisted. "It takes two to make an accident.

If I broke her heart, her image of me would break too

The sun was gone, but he had left his footprints in the sky. It was the time for sitting on porches beside the road.

Prije nego što mogu živjeti s drugima, moram moći živjeti sam sa sobom.

—He can’t wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror. Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can’t wear grey trousers.

The river itself is not a hundred yards across, and pa and Vernon and Vardaman and Dewey Dell are the only things in sight not of that single monotony of desolation leaning with that terrific quality a little from right to left, as though we had reached the place where the motion of the wasted world accelerates just before the final precipice.

To be a man, watched by women. It must be entirely strange. To have them watching him all the time. To have them wondering, What's he going to do next?

For how would you like to be shut up for a whole month at a time, and possibly more in stormy weather, upon a rock the size of a tennis lawn?

Nearly never kills a bird