Quotes - Page 436 | Just Great DataBase

As a matter of fact, I'm the only dumb one in the family.

There is a taint of death, a flavor of mortality in lies,—which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world—what I want to forget.

It is so hard to leave — until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.

—I'm a believer in universal brotherhood, said Temple, glancing about him out of his dark oval eyes. Marx is only a bloody cod.

A blank, my lord. She never told her love, 110   But let concealment, like a worm i’the bud, Feed on her damask cheek.

Not so her eyes, which were the flat hostile blue of a midsummer sky in bright sunlight, a blue that shuts you out.

qué bien, es como si hasta ahora siempre hubiera tenido frío

He who clipped us has kept the scissors.

More mud, more crocodiles.

I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

What I am and what I would are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears divinity, to any others profanation.

Cheshire Puss,' she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name: however, it only grinned a little wider. 'Come, it's pleased so far,' thought Alice, and she went on. 'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?' 'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

It would make me feel that I have power. But such a feeling would be an illusion, and too risky.

I believe in the resistance as I believe there can be no light without shadow; or rather, no shadow unless there is also light. There must be a resistance, or where do all the criminals come from, on the television?

they were believed and trusted, but most of all they were listened to.

Watch your language, if you don't mind."What a lady, boy. A queen, for Chrissake.

They couldn’t touch him because he was Tarzan, Mandrake, Flash Gordon. He was Bill Shakespeare. He was Cain, Ulysses, the Flying Dutchman; he was Lot in Sodom, Deirdre of the Sorrows, Sweeney in the nightingales among trees.

There was a lust of wandering in his feet that burned to set out for the ends of the earth. On! On! his heart seemed to cry. Evening would deepen above the sea, night fall upon the plains, dawn glimmer before the wanderer and show him strange fields and hills and faces. Where?

For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

For give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry. Bid the dishonest man mend himself. If he mend, he is no longer dishonest. If he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Anything