Quotes - Page 432 | Just Great DataBase

Važi li krštenje mineralnom vodom?

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The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief.

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A murderer's guilt is easier to hide than feelings of love. Midday is like nighttime for love—that's how brightly passion shines.

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I wish I hadn't cried so much!' said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. 'I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day.

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It's strange to remember how we used to think, as if everything were available to us, as if there were no contingencies, no boundaries; as if we were free to shape and reshape forever the everexpanding perimeters of our lives. I was like that too, I did that too.

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The Wall is hundreds of years old too; or over a hundred, at least. Like the sidewalks, it's red brick, and must once have been plain but handsome. Now the gates have sentries and there are ugly new floodlights mounted on metal posts above it, and barbed wire along the bottom and broken glass set in concrete along the top. No one goes through those gates willingly. The precautions are for those trying to get out, though to make it even as far as the Wall, from the inside, past the electronic alarm system, would be next to impossible. Beside the main gateway there are six more bodies hanging, by the necks, their hands tied in front of them, their heads in white bags tipped sideways onto their shoulders. There must have been a Men's Salvaging early this morning. I didn't hear the bells. Perhaps I've become used to them. We

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Her neyse, hep, büyük bir çavdar tarlasında oyun oynayan çocuklar getiriyorum gözümün önüne. Binlerce çocuk, başka kimse yok ortalıkta yetişkin hiç kimse, yani benden başka. Ve çılgın bir uçurumun kenarında durmuşum. Ne yapıyorum, uçuruma yaklaşan herkesi yakalıyorum; nereye gittiklerine hiç bakmadan koşarlarken, ben bir yerlerden çıkıyor, onları yakalıyorum. Bütün gün yalnızca bu işi yapıyorum. Ben, çavdar tarlasında çocukları yakalayan biri olmak isterdim. Çılgın bir şey bu, biliyorum, ama ben yalnızca böyle biri olmak isterdim. Biliyorum, bu çılgın bir şey.

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I'm a big believer in random capitalization. The rules of capitalization are so unfair to words in the middle.

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Просто есть такие люди, они... они чересчур думают о том свете и потому никак не научатся жить на этом.

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Ce n’est pas parce qu’on est battu d’avance qu’il ne faut pas essayer de gagner.

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The music passed in an instant, as the first bars of sudden music always did, over the fantastic fabrics of his mind, dissolving them painlessly and noiselessly as a sudden wave dissolves the sandbuilt turrets of children.

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Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe: What is decreed must be; and be this so!

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It was our hands that were supposed to be full, of the future; which could be held but not seen.

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Men who knew their manhood lay in their guns and were not even embarrassed by the knowledge that without gunshot fox would laugh at them.

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Chcel som ti ukázať, čo je opravdivá odvaha, a nie ťa utvrdiť v presvedčení, že odvaha znamená človeka s puškou v ruke. Odvaha je: pustiť sa do boja, aj keď vopred vieš, že si porazený, a napriek tomu vytrvať v boji až do konca. Zriedka zvíťazíš, ale niekedy sa ti to podarí.

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Let the dead bury the dead...

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-The soul is born, he said vaguely, first in those moments I told youof. It has a slow and dark birth, more mysterious than the birth of thebody. When the soul of a man is born in this country there are netsflung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality,language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.

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Why, so I do, the noblest that I have:

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The room smells of lemon oil, heavy cloth, fading daffodils, the leftover smells of cooking that have made their way from the kitchen or the dining room, and of Serena Joy's perfume: Lily of the Valley. Perfume is a luxury, she must have some private source. I breathe it in, thinking I should appreciate it. It's the scent of pre-pubescent girls, of the gifts young children used to give their mothers, for Mother's Day; the smell of white cotton socks and white cotton petticoats, of dusting powder, of the innocence of female flesh not yet given over to hairiness and blood. It makes me feel slightly ill, as it I'm in a closed car on a hot muggy day with an older woman wearing too much face powder. This is what the sitting room is like, despite its elegance.

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He knew exactly what she meant: to get to a place where you could love anything you chose—not to need permission for desire—well now, that was freedom.

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