Quotes - Page 72 | Just Great DataBase

He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.

And it was like knocking four quick times on the door of unhappiness.

We could live offa the fatta the lan'.

Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave.

Human sympathy has its limits.

I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.

Maybe," he said hesitantly, "maybe there is a beast." [...] "What I mean is, maybe it's only us.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

To educate the peasantry, three things are needed: schools, schools and schools.

I never wish to offend, but I am so foolishly shy, that I often seem negligent, when I am only kept back by my natural awkwardness."-Edward Ferrars

One of them is that a bastard is always a bastard and if I can hurt a bastard by digging up shit about him, then he deserves it.

Maybe the two worlds we lived in weren't so different. We saw the same sunset.

No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.

They walked along, two continents of experience and feeling unable to communicate.

What am I coming for?" he repeated, looking straight into her eyes. "You know that I have come to be where you are," he said; "I can't help it.

Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them-especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all.

Last night I thought about all the kerosene I've used in the past ten years. And I thought about books. And for the first time I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper. And I'd never even thought that thought before.

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,Is the immediate jewel of their souls:Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing;’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands;But he that filches from me my good nameRobs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

You know, that might be the answer – to act boastfully about something we ought to be ashamed of. That’s a trick that never seems to fail.

A mind not to be changed by place or time.The mind is its own place, and in itselfCan make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.