1
2
3
5
8
12
20
33
52
83
133
213
340
543
867
1384
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
2208
3346
3522
5443
5619
6757
7581
8098
8422
8625
8752
8832
8882
8913
8932
8945
8953
8957
8960
8962
8963
8964
8965
▲
▼
| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 76c7884 | Letting go isn't giving up. It's trusting God to do whatever He has to do. | Francine Rivers | ||
| be3bd47 | Perfect love drives out fear | Karen Kingsbury | ||
| ff1b79a | They talked on into the early morning, the high, pale cast of light in the windows, and they did not think of leaving. | pain grief loss light pale windows morning leaving talk | Raymond Carver | |
| 8a26c6f | If you lie to yourself about your own pain, you will be killed by those who will claim you enjoyed it. | Alice Walker | ||
| 0035339 | It didn't take long to realize I didn't hardly know nothing. And that if you ast yourself why you black or a man or a woman or a bush it don't mean nothing if you don't ast why you here, period | Alice Walker | ||
| 8179ee3 | Death is the dark backing that a mirror needs if we are to see anything. | Saul Bellow | ||
| 6b1991b | The physical body is an agent of the spirit and its mirror. It is an engine and a reflection of the spirit. It is the spirit's ingenious memorandum to itself and the spirit sees itself in my body, just as I see my own face in a looking glass. My nerves reflect this. The earth is literally a mirror of thoughts. Objects themselves are embodied thoughts. Death is the dark backing that a mirror needs if we are to see anything. | Saul Bellow | ||
| 81b5343 | Wind warns November's done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious. | bats dialogue-over-a-ouija-board ouija foliage leaves november bat fall wind | Sylvia Plath | |
| e2bb68e | I am sending back the key that let me into bluebeard's study; because he would make love to me I am sending back the key; in his eye's darkroom I can see my X-rayed heart, dissected body: | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 8303bc5 | The frost makes a flower, the dew makes a star. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| f16430e | I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 9bb3801 | It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 984d3f9 | You will never win anyone through pity. You must create the right kind of dream, the sober, adult kind of magic: illusion born from disillusion. | magic dreams disillusionment | Sylvia Plath | |
| 301a960 | My mind is, to use a disgustingly obvious simile, like a wastebasket full of waste paper; bits of hair, and rotting apple cores. I am feeling depressed from being exposed to so many lives, so many of them exciting, new to my realm of experience. I pass by people, grazing them on the edges, and it bothers me. I've got to admire someone to really like them deeply - to value them as friends. It was that way with Ann: I admired her wit, her rid.. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| d9c6898 | to know a lot of people I love pieces of, and to want to synthesize those pieces in me somehow, be it by painting or writing. * to know that millions of others are unhappy and that life is a gentleman's agreement to grin and paint your face gay so others will feel they are silly to be unhappy, and try to catch the contagion of joy, while inside so many are dying of bitterness and unfulfillment... | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 3caa5f6 | Antoine St. Exupery once mourned the loss of a man and the secret treasures that he held inside him. I loved Exupery; I will read him again, and he will talk to me, not being dead, or gone. Is that life after death -- mind living on paper and flesh living in offspring? Maybe. I do not know. | Sylvia Plath | ||
| 8d9ba92 | But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good. | poetry | Sylvia Plath | |
| 44802cd | But hands are sacred things. Touch is personal, fingers of love, feelers of blind eyes, tongues of those who cannot talk... | Keri Hulme | ||
| ae3224f | When I tried to remember her voice saying, 'Don't worry,' I found I had no memory for sounds. I couldn't imitate her voice. I couldn't even caricature it: when I tried to remember it, it was anonymous - just any woman's voice. The process of forgetting her had set in. We should keep gramophone records as we keep photographs. | Graham Greene | ||
| 075f63a | Growth is betrayal. | growth | John Updike | |
| 902231d | I like old men. They can be wonderful bastards because they have nothing to lose. The only people who can be themselves are babies and old bastards. | John Updike | ||
| 50ede7c | '`tqd 'n Hyty tqlyd lHy@ 'Sly@ yjb 'n tkwn `lyh , why kkl tqlyd .. mw'lm@ wmskyn@ yjb 'n tkhjl mnh ! | Orhan Pamuk | ||
| 48a0dca | the endless repetition of an ordinary miracle. | orhan-pamuk snowflakes snow | Orhan Pamuk | |
| 0007545 | Cain killed Abel, and the blood cried out from the ground--a story so sad that even God took notice of it. Maybe it was not the sadness of the story, since worse things have happened every minute since that day, but its novelty that He found striking. In the newness of the world God was a young man, and grew indignant over the slightest things. In the newness of the world God had perhaps not Himself realized the ramifications of certain of .. | Marilynne Robinson | ||
| 5ac75be | That is how life goes--we send our children into the wilderness. Some of them on the day they are born, it seems, for all the help we can give them. Some of them seem to be a kind of wilderness unto themselves. But there must be angels there, too, and springs of water. Even that wilderness, the very habitation of jackals, is the Lord's. | Marilynne Robinson | ||
| 1a06e5f | I love the writers of my thousand books. It pleases me to think how astonished old Homer, whoever he was, would be to find his epics on the shelf of such an unimaginable being as myself, in the middle of an unrumored continent. I love the large minority of the writers on my shelves who have struggled with words and thoughts and, by my lights, have lost the struggle. All together they are my community, the creators of the very idea of books,.. | words literature reading poetry writers | Marilynne Robinson | |
| 419775b | I love insult, it's always honest. | Joyce Carol Oates | ||
| 436ac24 | In a family, what isn't spoken is what you listen for. But the noise of a family is to drown it out. | Joyce Carol Oates | ||
| 861ccb0 | The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come- not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute. If there is mild relief, one knows that it is only temporary; more pain will follow. It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul. So the decision-making of daily life involves not, as in normal affairs, shifting from one annoying situation to another less annoying- or .. | William Styron | ||
| 8029a6e | Why were we fighting if you had that kind of power?" In unison, every ex-Dark-Hunter and Nick said, "Just because you can doesn't mean you should." "And sometimes things have to go wrong in order to go right," Wulf said. When the other guys looked confused by his solo outburst, he added, "I guess I'm the only one he ever said that one to." -- | Sherrilyn Kenyon | ||
| 8908898 | He's sorry, Chloe. He really is a sweet guy. Don't be a bitch about this. And don't screw it up. Just go over there. Give him a chance and, in no time, you'll forget everything else. And that's exactly why I stayed in my chair. I didn't want to forget everything else, or the next thing I knew, he'd be back on that roof, putting his life in danger. "You don't get to do this," I said finally. "Do what?" He asked the question innocently enough.. | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| 31c3d99 | God, I loved him. I could insist I was okay with just being friends, that I'd find someone else and get over him, but I was fooling myself. There was no getting past this. I loved him, and fifty years from now we could be married to other people, never exchanged so much as a kiss, and I'd still looking into his eyes and know he was the one. He'd always be the one. | savannah | Kelley Armstrong | |
| 3ba77f8 | It reminded me of what Dad said after every snail's crawl home from Albany when snow hit."It's New York, people. It's winter. We get snow. If you aren't prepared to deal with it, move to Miami." | winter weather | Kelley Armstrong | |
| 390afae | Here I had a wonderful man who cared for me and I was screwing around with a self-absorbed, conniving monster who'd betrayed me in the worst possible way. | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| 7f178ae | My past was a private obstacle, not a public excuse. | Kelley Armstrong | ||
| 91e1415 | Sing to me," she said. "That would be valiant, to raise your voice in this dark, lonely place, and it will be useful as well. Sing to me, sing loudly-drown out my dreams, keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it. Sing to me, my lord prince, if it please you. It may not seem a hero's task, but I would be glad of it." | hero sing | Peter S. Beagle | |
| 91a4c1b | but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes. | Peter S. Beagle | ||
| de2cacc | If the Good Lord made a mistake in us people it was in making us want to live when we've got the least excuse for it. | Jim Thompson | ||
| 5fcd5c3 | Then he laughed and she laughed. And quivering with the movement of the train, the dead man seemed to laugh too. | Jim Thompson | ||
| 3ae4a20 | What's one more meaningless act of violence on that zoo of a planet? It would be appropriate. When in Rome; burn it. | Iain M. Banks | ||
| 0a44dfd | Look on the happy side, think of the good things. Hadn't it been clever? Yes, it had. | Iain M. Banks | ||
| ed69d0d | But it was pointless, it was stupid; he thought about thoughtless things. If I were a seabird . . . but how could you be a seabird? If you were a seabird your brain would be tiny and stupid and you would love half-rotted fish guts and tweaking the eyes out of little grazing animals; you would know no poetry and you could never appreciate flying as fully as the human on the ground yearning to be you. If you wanted to be a seabird you deserve.. | Iain M. Banks | ||
| 91a4861 | All of it dust now, all of their precious humanoid civilization ground to junk under glaciers or weathered away by wind and spray and rain and frozen ice - all of it. Only this pathetic maze-tomb left. So much for their humanity, or whatever they chose to call it, thought Unaha-Closp. Only their machines remained. But would any of the others learn? Would they see this for what it was, this frozen rockball? Would they, indeed! | Iain M. Banks | ||
| 3e596a0 | I sucked that smoke in and made it part of me, joined mystically with the universe right at that point, said Yes to drugs forever just by the unique hit I got from that one packet of fags Andy liberated from his dad. It was a revelation, an epiphany; a sudden realisation that it was possible for matter - something there in front of you, in your hand, in your lungs, in your pocket - to take your brain apart and reassemble it in ways you hadn.. | Iain M. Banks |