Quotes - Page 461 | Just Great DataBase

you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you

uno debe mentir en ciertas circunstancias, en particular cuando no puede modificar las circunstancias. —Hemos

He looked all Negro to me: he was rich chocolate with flaring nostrils and beautiful teeth. Sometimes he would skip happily , and the Negro woman tugged his hand to make him stop.

This common body, like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, to rot itself with motion

It had nothing to do with morality. Embarrassment, that’s all it was. And right then I submitted. I would go to the war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to.

It’s those other escapes, the ones you can open in yourself, given a cutting edge. So.

How I wasted them, those rooms, that freedom from being seen. Rented

Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly – they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced. That

He gave out a big yawn while he said that. Which is something that gives me a royal pain in the ass. I mean if somebody yawns right while they're asking you to do them a goddamn favor.

Tom y Daisy eran criaturas desconsideradas: hacían añicos las cosas y personas y luego volvían a sus dinero o a su enorme desconsideración, o a lo que fuese que los mantenía unidos, y dejaban que otros se encargaran de limpiar lo que ellos ensuciaban.

But that expression of ‘violently in love’ is so hackneyed, so doubtful, so indefinite, that it gives me very little idea. It is as often applied to feelings which arise from a half-hour’s acquaintance, as to a real, strong attachment.

enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by

under the live oaks on the square. Attentive critics of courthouse business, Atticus said

Mr. Tate. He’s good and dead. He won’t hurt these children again.

The day was cloudy. I passed through towns with familiar last names, through the pine forests and down to the prairie, and then to Vietnam, where I was a soldier, and then home again. I survived, but it's not a happy ending. I was a coward. I went to the war.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum. I

When we think of the past it’s the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that. The

I was crazy about The Great Gatsby. Old Gatsby. Old sport. That killed me.

It's just a crazy old thing. I just slip it on sometimes when I don't care what I look like.

I felt that way not because I never once discovered any palpable hard young throat to crush among the masculine mutes that flickered somewhere in the background; but because it was to me "overwhelmingly obvious" (a favorite expression with my aunt Sybil) that all varieties of high school boys - from the perspiring nincompoop whom "holding hands" thrills, to the self-sufficient rapist with pustules and a souped-up car - equally bored my sophisticated young mistress.