1
2
3
5
8
12
20
33
52
83
133
213
340
543
867
1384
2208
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
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 |
| df5f948 | The mountain panorama was the backdrop to every photo taken here, the backdrop to everything. At first Ursula had thought it beautiful, now she was beginning to find its magnificence oppressive. The great icy crags and the rushing waterfalls, the endless pine trees--nature and myth fused to form the Germanic sublimated soul. German Romanticism, it seemed to Ursula, was write large and mystical, the English Lakes seemed tame by comparison. A.. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 24fecdb | An eye for an eye," Mac said at the squadron reunion. Until everyone was blind, Teddy wondered?)" | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 79b8ef4 | Writing felt like something she knew, although she only knew it from the other side - reading - and it took her a while to realize that writing and reading were completely different activities - polar opposites, in fact. And just because she could do joined-up handwriting, she discovered, didn't mean that she could write books. But she persevered, perhaps for the first time in her life. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 43c42e8 | What if this present were the world's last night' she said. 'The word present makes all the difference, don't you think? It makes it seem as if one's somehow in the thick of it, which we are, rather than simply contemplating a theoretical concept. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 37e132b | He wondered what a visitor from the past would make of it. It used to be the poor who were thin and the rich who were fat, now it seemed to be the other way round. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 8727d5e | By the end of the war there was nothing about men and women that surprised him. Nothing about anything really. The whole edifice of civilization turned out to be constructed from an unstable mix of quicksand and imagination. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 3db9e32 | Time was a thief, he stole your life away from you and the only way you could get it back was to outwit him and snatch it right back. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 7476ddf | The only time you were safe was when you were dead. | morbid safe | Kate Atkinson | |
| 720ddf0 | She had been here before. She had never been here before. There was always something just out of sight, just around a corner, something she could never chase down--something that was chasing her down. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 0ad18ae | The blame generally has to fall somewhere, Miss Armstrong. Women and the Jews tend to be first in line, unfortunately. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| 1eea72a | Fine,' she said, using the universal Scottish word for every state of being from 'I'm dying in anguish' to 'I'm experiencing euphoric joy.' 'Fine,' she said. 'I'm fine. | Kate Atkinson | ||
| e3237b5 | Needing and loving are two different things. | Armistead Maupin | ||
| 20c5737 | I don't see myself very clearly. Then look at the people who love you...Look into their eyes and see what they're seeing; that's all you need to know yourself. | self-esteem self-love | Armistead Maupin | |
| 30575d6 | Pete thinks we all have a blacking factory: some awful moment, early on, when we surrender our childish hearts as surely as we lose our baby teeth. | childhood-suffering maturity | Armistead Maupin | |
| c9cff89 | Mona ... lots of things are more binding than sex. They last longer too. | Armistead Maupin | ||
| e187658 | It all goes so fast, she thought. We dole out our lives in dinner parties and plane flights, and it's over before we know it. We lose everyone we love, if they don't lose us first, and every single thing we do is intended to distract us from that reality. | Armistead Maupin | ||
| 50e572d | I'd never been much of an athlete, due to a physical condition I'd had since birth (unathleticism). Perhaps if there were a sport centered around lying on your couch in a neurotic stupor all day, I'd take an interest. | athleticism laziness sports unathleticism | Colson Whitehead | |
| 2bf593b | Mark Spitz had met plenty of the divine-retribution folks over the months. This was their moment; they were umbrella salesmen standing outside a subway entrance in a downpour. The human race deserved the plague, we brought it on ourselves for poisoning the planet, for the Death of God, the calculated brutalities of the global economic system, for driving primordial species to extinction: the entire collapse of values as evidenced by everyth.. | blame devine-retribution zombies | Colson Whitehead | |
| b3f3720 | A feeling settled over Cora. She had not been under its spell in years, since she brought the hatchet down on Blake's doghouse and sent the splinters into the air. She had seen men hung from trees and left for buzzards and crows. Women carved open to the bones with the cat-o'-nine-tails. Bodies alive and dead roasted on pyres. Feet cut off to prevent escape and hands cut off to stop theft. She had seen boys and girls younger than this beate.. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 885beb0 | What does the perfect elevator look like, the one that will deliver us from the cities we suffer now, these stunted shacks? We don't know because we can't see inside it, it's something we cannot imagine, like the shape of angels' teeth. It's a black box. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 3e71a47 | Emptiness was an index. It recorded the incomprehensible chronicle of the metropolis, the demographic realities, how money worked, the cobbled-together lifestyles and roosting habits. The population remained at a miraculous density, it seemed to him, for the empty rooms brimmed with evidence, in the stragglers they did or did not contain, in the busted barricades, in the expired relatives on the futon beds, arms crossed over their chests in.. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 12012ed | This nation shouldn't exist, if there is any justice in the world, for its foundations are murder, theft, and cruelty. Yet here we are. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| b9f65a6 | And what else but a being cursed with the burden of free will would wear a poncho. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| c5e0006 | Maybe we become New Yorkers the day we realize that New York will go on without us. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 2f49e4a | New York City does not hold our former selves against us. Perhaps we can extend the same courtesy. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 590b74a | We can never make proper goodbyes. It was your last ride in a Checker cab and you had no warning. It was the last time you were going to have Lake Tung Ting shrimp in that kinda shady Chinese restaurant and you had no idea. If you had known, perhaps you would have stepped behind the counter and shaken everyone's hand, pulled out the disposable camera and issued posing instructions. But you had no idea. There are unheralded tipping points, a.. | Colson Whitehead | ||
| d65668b | Why do you watch TV shows -- and keep watching them -- if you don't like them?" Terence asked. Simple: Some days, all you have is gazing upon horror, and the small comfort of being surprised that it is not yours." | Colson Whitehead | ||
| 8189808 | Sarah turned on her, and shook her head. "You may keep them. And if it is possible with so small a sum of money, I suggest you purchase some instrument of torture. I am sure Mrs. Fairly will be pleased to help you use it upon all those wretched enough to come under your power." | John Fowles | ||
| 6360527 | I am Mrs. Poulteney. I have come to take up residence. Kindly inform your Master." "His Infinitude has been informed of your decease, ma'am. His angels have already sung a Jubilate in celebration of the event." "That is most proper and kind of Him." And the worthy lady, pluming and swelling, made to sweep into the imposing white hall she saw beyond the butler's head. But the man did not move aside. Instead, he rather impertinently jangled s.. | John Fowles | ||
| 08b13a1 | The silence was terrible then, as tense as a bridge about to break, a tower to fall; unedurable in its emotion, its truth bursting to be spoken. | John Fowles | ||
| c1359fe | She smiled at him as they waited for their dessert, her chin poised on her clasped hands. 'You're being very silent.' 'That's how men cry. | cry john-fowles men silence silent | John Fowles | |
| a4f17aa | Ideeea ca ne plac oamenii este o iluzie pe care trebuie s-o pastram in noi daca vrem sa traim in societate. Dar eu am expulzat-o de mult, cel putin cat traiesc aici. Tu vrei sa fii iubit? Eu ma multumesc pur si simplu sa "fiu", sa exist. Poate intr-o zi ai sa inteegi si tu ce inseamana asta. Si ai sa zambesti. Un zambet aprobator, un zambet sarcastic." | John Fowles | ||
| 6e0a07e | Urasc oamenii de stiinta care colectioneaza lucruri si le clasifica si le dau nume,ca apoi sa uite cu totul de ele.La fel se intampla si in arta.Eticheteaza un pictor drept impresionist sau cubist sau altceva si il pun intr-un anume sertar si nu se mai gandesc la ca la o fiinta umana care picteaza | John Fowles | ||
| 4165d80 | Knowledge of my atrocious selfishness, settled on me. All those bitter home truths she had flung at me, right from the beginning...and still loved me; was so blind that she still loved me. One day she had said: (and she had not meant "make love to me") and I took it as chicanery, another emotional blackmail, to make me feel essential and so give me a sense of responsibility towards her." | John Fowles | ||
| 4e21ba1 | I mean most women just want to be good at something, they've got good-at minds, and they mean deftness and a flair and good taste and what-not. They can't ever understand that if your desire is to go to the furthest limits of yourself then the actual form your art takes doesn't seem important to you. Whether you use words or paint or sounds. | John Fowles | ||
| c3e8727 | Just those three words, said and meant.I love you. | John Fowles | ||
| cb1d3b8 | People who teach you cram old ideas, old views, old ways, into you. Like covering plants with layer after layer of old earth; it's no wonder the poor things so rarely come up fresh and green. | John Fowles | ||
| 0805e7b | I've been sitting here and thinking about God. I don't think I believe in God any more. It is not only me, I think of all the millions who must have lived like this in the war. The Anne Franks. And back through history. What I feel I know now is that God doesn't intervene. He lets us suffer. If you pray for liberty then you may get relief just because you pray, or because things happen anyhow which bring you liberty. But God can't hear. The.. | John Fowles | ||
| 0b579c5 | The two of us in that room. No past, no future. All intense deep that-time-only. A feeling that everything must end, the music, ourselves, the moon, everything. That if you get to the heart of things you find sadness for ever and ever, everywhere; but a beautiful silver sadness, like a Christ face. | beauty christ deep end ending ever everywhere feeling future heart intense moon music ourselves past sad sadness silver | John Fowles | |
| a1835b0 | Which are you drinking? The water or the wave? | John Fowles | ||
| faf577b | An answer is always a form of death. | death end | John Fowles | |
| 9f5f62a | He's a collector. That's the great dead thing in him. | John Fowles | ||
| a025f51 | Victims? | John Fowles The Magus | ||
| 8efcf19 | Staring out to sea, I finally forced myself to stop thinking of her as someone still somewhere, if only in memory, still obscurely alive, breathing, doing, moving, but as a shovelful of ashes already scattered; as a broken link, a biological dead end, an eternal withdrawal from reality, a once complex object that now dwindled, dwindled, left nothing behind except a l like a fallen speck of soot on a blank sheet of paper. | death-of-a-loved-one memories | John Fowles |