So he went on stringing together these and other absurdities, all in the style of those his books had taught him, imitating their language as well as he could; and all the while he rode so slowly and the sun mounted so rapidly and with such fervour that it was enough to melt his brains if he had any.
...women on their own, making up their minds. They wore blouses with buttons down the front that suggested the possibilities of the word undone. These women could be undone; or not. They seemed to be able to choose. We seemed to be able to choose, then. We were a society of dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.
It’s true that a child belongs to its father. But when a father beats his child, it seeks sympathy in its mother’s hut. A man belongs to his fatherland when things are good and life is sweet. But when there is sorrow and bitterness he finds refuge in his motherland. Your mother is there to protect you. She is buried there. And that is why we say that mother is supreme.
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, ifhe will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom...
Το περιεχόμενο [των περιοδικών] ήταν υπόσχεση. Μιλούσαν για μεταμορφώσεις, γαργαλούσαν με μια ατέλειωτη σειρά από δυνατότητες, όλο και πιο προωθημένες, όπως τα είδωλα σε δυο καθρέπτες τοποθετημένους αντικριστά, με τέλος τους το άπειρο. σου πρόβαλλαν πειρασμούς: μια περιπέτεια μετά την άλλη, μια γκαρνταρόμπα να ακολουθεί άλλην, η μια βελτίωση ξοπίσω από την άλλη, ένας άντρας αμέσως μετά από άλλον. Μιλούσαν για ξανάνιωμα κυττάρων, κατάργηση του πόνου και ατέρμονη αγάπη. Η ουσιαστική υπόσχεσή τους τελικά ήταν μία: αθανασία
I've learned that intelligence alone doesn't mean a damned thing. Here in your university, intelligence, education, knowledge, have all become great idols. But I know now there's one thing you've overlooked: intelligence and education that hasn't been tempered by human affection isn't worth a damn.
The summer dresses are unpacked and hanging in the closet, two of them, pure cotton, which is better than synthetics like the cheaper ones, though even so, when it's muggy, in July and August, you sweat inside them. No worry about sunburn though, said Aunt Lydia. The spectacles women used to make of themselves. Oiling themselves like roast meat on a spit, and bare backs and shoulders, on the street, in public, and legs, not even stockings on them, no wonder those things used to happen. [...] And not good for the complexion, not at all, wrinkle you up like a dried apple. But we weren't supposed to care about our complexions any more, she'd forgotten that.