Quotes - Page 62 | Just Great DataBase

Maman used to say that you can always find something to be happy about. In my prison, when the sky turned red and a new day slipped into my cell, I found out that she was right.

You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave

You're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk. I can't tell you just now what the moral of that is, but I shall remember it in a bit.""Perhaps it hasn't one," Alice ventured to remark."Tut, tut, child!" said the Duchess. "Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.

Every savage can dance.

O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.

Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you never blame deeply.

Men are so quick to blame the gods: they saythat we devise their misery. But theythemselves- in their depravity- designgrief greater than the griefs that fate assigns.

But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned to a pillar of salt. So it goes. People aren't supposed to look back. I'm certainly not going to do it anymore.

People with new ideas, people with the faintest capacity for saying something new, are extremely few in number, extraordinarily so, in fact.

It's such a stupid question, in my opinion. I mean, how do you know what you're going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don't. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it's a stupid question.

Oh, you can't help that,' said the cat. 'We're all mad here.

I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you'd forget me.

I'm going away," he said. "And I want you to know that I'm coming back. I love you because....""Don't say anything," Fatima interrupted. "One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.

I love New York on summer afternoons when everyone's away. There's something very sensuous about it - overripe, as if all sorts of funny fruits were going to fall into your hands.

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.

So we grew together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition,Two lovely berries moulded on one stem.

It isn't running away they're afraid of. We wouldn't get far. It's those other escapes, the ones you can open in yourself, given a cutting edge.

...I would think how words go straight up in a thin line, quick and harmless, and how terribly doing goes along the earth, clinging to it, so that after a while the two lines are too far apart for the same person to straddle from one to the other; and that sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words.

We have so much to say, and we shall never say it.

We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness