Quotes - Page 542 | Just Great DataBase

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One thing about packing depressed me a little. I had to pack these brand-new ice skates my mother had practically just sent me a couple of days before. That depressed me. I could see my mother going in Spaulding's and asking the salesman a million dopy questions- and here I was getting the ax again. It made me feel pretty sad. She bought me the wrong kind of skates- I wanted racing skates and she bought hockey- but it made me sad anyway. Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.

John D. Rockefeller.

advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had

Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he was able to bring Darcy with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's visit.

mother,

Приемете факта, че постигането на вашето щастие е единствената морална цел на вашия живот и, че в щастието, а не в болката или безумното самоугаждане, е доказателството за вашия морал, тъй като то е доказателство и резултат от вашата последователност в осъществяването на вашите идеали.''Атлас изправи рамене

Here I sit and there you are lying; we have so much to say, and we shall never say it.

But who can remember pain, one it's over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.

I’ve always had to pay double for my sins: once with scoldings and then again with my own sense of despair.

That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it? said Tom sharply. What is? All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?

This guy sounds like an alcoholic Kermit the Frog with throat cancer.

He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.

oigo mencionarlos con mucha

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple,

I marvel again at the nakedness of men's lives: the showers right out in the open, the body exposed for inspection and comparison, the public display of privates. What is it for? What purposes of reassurance does it serve? The flashing of a badge, look, everyone, all is in order, I belong here. Why don't women have to prove to one another that they are women? Some form of unbuttoning, some split-crotch routine, just as casual. A doglike sniffing. The

As our credulity switched back to her she leaned forward with enthusiasm. 'You look at him sometimes when he thinks nobody's looking at him. I'll bet he killed a man.' She narrowed her eyes and shivered.

The spiritual and the physical had been blended in us with a perfection that must remain incomprehensible to the matter-of-fact, crude, standard-brained youngsters of today. Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we met we had had the same dreams. We compared notes. We found strange affinities.

I suppose I never found boredom very boring