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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| e06fa3d | I chose my way when I wed ye, though I kent it not at the time. But I chose, and cannot now turn back, even if I would.' 'Would you?' I looked into his eyes as I asked, and read the answer there. He shook his head. 'Would you? For you have chosen, as much as I. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 6b0b833 | I wasn't used to living crowded cheek by jowl with numbers of other people, as was customary here. People ate, slept, and frequently copulated, crammed into tiny, stifling cottages, lit and warmed by smoky peat fires. The only thing they didn't do together was bathe - largely because they didn't bathe. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| c4520f5 | Thought of blowing your brains out?" William blinked, startled. "No." "That's good. Anything else is bound to be an improvement, isn't it?" | humor william-ransome | Diana Gabaldon | |
| ba24a4e | If you could do such a thing as that-and I don't mean lying with a woman, I mean doing it and lying to me about it-then everything I've done and everything I've been-my whole life-has been a lie. And I am not prepared to admit such a thing. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| dbf71b8 | Claire. The name knifed across his heart with a pain that was more racking than anything his body had ever been called on to withstand. | jamie-fraser | Diana Gabaldon | |
| c76877f | God, don't laugh!" Jamie said, alarmed. "I didna mean to make ye laugh! Christ, Jenny will kill me if ye cough up a lung and die out here!" | ian-murray jamie-fraser laughter | Diana Gabaldon | |
| 381804a | and if she wasn't precisely pretty, she had a force of character that is often more attractive than simple beauty. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 3505f79 | Is it usual, what it is between us when I touch you? | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 7a8da73 | a well-expressed opinion is usually better than a badly expressed fact, | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 3a540fd | marriage is made not in ritual or in words but in the living of it. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 210c076 | Je suis Prest | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| ca72779 | Ye lost your parents young, mo nighean donn, and wandered about the world, rootless. Ye loved Frank"--his mouth compressed for an instant, but I thought he was unconscious of it--"and of course ye love Brianna and Roger Mac and the weans ... but, Sassenach--I am the true home of your heart, and I know that." | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 7641355 | And what's wrong wi' the way ye smell?' he said heatedly. 'At least ye smelt like a woman, not a damn flower garden. What d'ye think I am, a man or a bumblebee? Would ye wash yourself, Sassenach, so I can get within less than ten feet of ye? | diana-gabaldon jamie-fraser outlander | Diana Gabaldon | |
| 14ab681 | A Highlander in full regalia is an impressive sight--any Highlander, no matter how old, ill-favored, or crabbed in appearance. A tall, straight-bodied, and by no means ill-favored young Highlander at close range is breath-taking. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| b81a5f1 | but there came a point when one abandoned hope for faith, and trusted fate for charity. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 25fb434 | The mountains had their own time, and a wise man did not try to hurry them. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| f2bf97c | But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face; It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists; It is in his walk, the carraige of his next, the flex of his waist and knees--dress does not hide him; The strong, sweet supple quality he has, strikes through the cotton and flannel; To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more; You linger to see his back, and the ba.. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| a3b8c10 | I put a hand up to cup his cheek, warm and lightly stubbled. I didn't fool myself that this was paradise or even a refuge from the war - wars tended not to stay in one place but moved around, much in the manner of cyclones and even more destructive where they touched down. But for however long it lasted, this was home, and now was peace. | temporary-refuge war | Diana Gabaldon | |
| a3c9a3e | This is the thin time, when the beloved dead draw near. The world turns inward, and the chilling air grows thick with dreams and mystery. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 5790692 | I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannot help." "Not in having no one for whom to care?" Fraser paused before answering; he might have been weighing the position of the pieces on the table. "That is emptiness," he said at last, softly. "But no great burden" | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| caae010 | It was possible to leave things behind--places, people, memories--at least for a time. But places held tight to the things that had happened in them, and to come again to a place you had once lived was to be brought face-to-face with what you had done there and who you had been. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| e7f0511 | We look in the mirror and see the shades of other faces looking back through the years; we see the shape of memory, standing solid in an empty doorway. By blood and by choice, we make our ghosts; we haunt ourselves. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| d784e5a | These were people like that. The ones that cared so terribly much - enough to risk everything, enough to change and do things. Most people aren't like that, you know. It isn't that they don't care, but they don't care so greatly. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 9ab0b48 | Help us, O Lord, to remember how often men do wrong through want of thought, rather than from lack of love; and how cunning are the snares that trip our feet. | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| 7414b90 | Don't be afraid," he whispered into my hair. "There's the two of us now." | Diana Gabaldon | ||
| a39e9e7 | if there was anything at all in the Book, anything of hope and peace for His blind and bewildered spawn which He had chosen above all others to offer immortality, THOU SHALT NOT KILL must be it... | William Faulkner | ||
| 1fb322d | Your outside is just what you live in, sleep in, and has little connection with who you are and even less with what you do. | William Faulkner | ||
| c51d496 | As they walked through the bright noon, up the sandy road with the dispersing congregation talking easily again group to group, she continued to weep, unmindful of the talk. "He sho a preacher, mon!! He didn't look like much at first, but hush!" "He seed de power en de glory." "Yes, suh. He seed hit. Face to face he seed hit." Dilsey made no sound, her face did not quiver as the tears took their sunken and devious courses, walking with .. | William Faulkner | ||
| 437d1d7 | She carried her head high enough - even when we believed that she was fallen. It was as if she demanded more than ever the recognition of her dignity as the last Grierson; as if it had wanted that touch of earthiness to reaffirm her imperviousness | William Faulkner | ||
| 7e6f7b0 | Women do have an affinity for evil, for believing that no woman is to be trusted, but that some men are too innocent to protect themselves. | innocence men trust women | William Faulkner | |
| dc86ed8 | With the gun which was too big for him, the breech-loader which did not even belong to him but to Major de Spain and which he had fired only once, at a stump on the first day to learn the recoil and how to reload it with the paper shells, he stood against a big gum tree beside a little bayou whose black still water crept without motion out of a cane-brake, across a small clearing and into the cane again, where, invisible, a bird, the big wo.. | William Faulkner | ||
| b286eae | Life wasn't made to be easy on folks: they wouldn't ever have any reason to be good and die. | William Faulkner | ||
| 1dc7e20 | For several years, while I searched for, found, and studied black women writers, I deliberately shut O'Connor out, feeling almost ashamed that she had reached me first. And yet, even when I no longer read her, I missed her, and realized that though the rest of America might not mind, having endured it so long, I would never be satisfied with a segregated literature. I would have to read Zora Hurston and Flannery O'Connor, Nella Larsen and C.. | perspective reading segregation well-read | Alice Walker | |
| b1cb46e | the two girls emanated an incorrigible idle inertia. | burning from | William Faulkner | |
| 61aa35a | It's not four days ago I find a bastard squatting here, asking me if I read books. Like he would jump me with a book or something. Take me for a ride with the telephone directory. | William Faulkner | ||
| c256a49 | Buddhism advises you not to implant feelings that you don't really have or avoid feelings that you do have. If you are miserable you are miserable; that is the reality, that is what is happening, so confront that. Look it square in the eye without flinching. When you are having a bad time, examine that experience, observe it mindfully, study the phenomenon and learn its mechanics. The way out of a trap is to study the trap itself, learn how.. | Bhante Henepola Gunaratana | ||
| 56e0148 | Pain is inevitable, suffering is not. | Bhante Henepola Gunaratana | ||
| 8531236 | You can make a text mean anything, especially if it's old and full of ambiguities. | Arturo Pérez-Reverte | ||
| fde6d64 | En un mundo donde el horror se vende como arte, donde el arte nace ya con la pretension de ser fotografiado, donde convivir con las imagenes del sufrimiento no tiene relacion con la conciencia ni con la compasion, las fotos de guerra no sirven para nada. | Arturo Pérez-Reverte | ||
| f571955 | It really doesn't bother me," she said. "I've always thought it stupid to try to hide your age, or to pretend to be younger than you are. Denying your age is like denying your life." | Arturo Pérez-Reverte | ||
| 7fcf10e | You're forgetting about God. He doesn't interest me. God tolerates the intolerable, he is irresponsible and inconsistent. He is not a gentleman. | Arturo Pérez-Reverte | ||
| 7df9f06 | The living out in excess kills the imagination and the intensity, | Anaïs Nin | ||
| eb0d779 | the cape held within its folds something of what she imagined was a quality possessed exclusively by man: some dash, some audacity, some swagger of freedom denied to woman | Anaïs Nin | ||
| a485fd0 | How to live as divided cells -- voila! Something always eludes the scientists, the poets, the stargazers, the biologists, the anthropologists. Something eludes the informers, detectives, police, lawyers. It is the dream. And what lies in the deformed mirrors of the dream and haunts our sleep is the secret of everything. | Anaïs Nin |