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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 6197a77 | This is slow work. . . .Is it not time for my pain-killer? | Samuel Beckett | ||
| ffd3e78 | Then one day, suddenly, it ends, it changes, I don't understand, it dies, or it's me, I don't understand that either. I ask the words that remain sleeping, waking, morning, evening. They have nothing to say. | Samuel Beckett | ||
| fdf1da9 | But politeness and candour run together, when one is not fitting neither is the other. Then the occasion calls for silence, that frail partition between the ill-concealed and the ill-revealed, the clumsily false and the unavoidably so. | Samuel Beckett | ||
| 2b0824f | Here all is strange. | Samuel Beckett | ||
| ce1d701 | Je suis comme ca. Ou j'oublie tout de suite ou je n'oublie jamais | Samuel Beckett | ||
| 94fd310 | Il y a une goutte d'eau dans ma tete. ( ) Un coeur, un coeur dans ma tete. | Samuel Beckett | ||
| f329ee1 | A little darkness, in itself, at the time, is nothing. You think no more about it and you go on. But I know what darkness is, it accumulates, thickens, then suddenly bursts and drowns everything. | Samuel Beckett | ||
| 79f2636 | Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. --Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho (1983) | inspirational try-again | Samuel Beckett | |
| 837a5a3 | It may make him overconfident. He may make foolish errors. | Christie Golden | ||
| 418409d | Please...please don't..." "You must let me go, my love," Ventress said, her voice so gentle, so tender, and she smiled lovingly. "It's the Jedi way." And she was gone." | Christie Golden | ||
| a898aee | There are many paths open to us at all times, Jaina. As leaders of those who trust us, we owe it to them to examine every one. | Christie Golden | ||
| 94f39e5 | I wanted what we had. What we were going to have. Together. We had a future. | Christie Golden | ||
| ff31b99 | but we cannot go back to happier times. We can only live in the present, and right now that present is painful. | velen golden christie storm | Christie Golden | |
| c20d44a | How easily the mind can be turned to hate from a place of fear... ...Instead of focusing on the things that unite us, we focus on what divides us... ...My prayer, every day, is for wisdom to guide my people. And in that prayer is couched a plea, never to be blinded by such trivial differences. | Christie Golden | ||
| 3bfe08c | All things change, whether from inside out or the outside in. That is what magic is. And we are magic too. | Christie Golden | ||
| a0973d1 | hnk 'shy ystTy` lnsn 'n ytdhkrh wlw 'nh lm tHdth Tlq. hnk 'mwr 'tdhkrh rbm lm tHdth 'bd, lkn `ndm 'strj`h tHtl mkn fy khyly. | Harold Pinter | ||
| 1620113 | As it is? | meaning memory | Harold Pinter | |
| 5280d03 | Mi papa vive solo en el desierto. Dice que no se lleva bien con la gente. | Sam Shepard | ||
| a5d3ffe | You don't have to take it out on my typewrite ya' know. It's not the machine's fault that you can't write. It's a sin to do that to a good machine. | writing writers-block writers-on-writing | Sam Shepard | |
| 6b7c3f9 | Although there is plenty of space on a gravestone to contain, bound in moss, the abridged version of a man's life, detail is always welcome. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| 95c6a3f | And finally: I reserve for myself the right to yearn after an ecological niche: ...Beneath the sky Of my America to sigh For one locality in Russia. (a passage not for 'general readers' but for 'idiots') | politics-is-local | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| c1e8b71 | Old birds like Orlovius are wonderfully easy to lead by the beak, because a combination of decency and sentimentality is exactly equal to being a fool. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| b9b60dd | And perhaps it was precisely because she knew nothing at all about chess that chess for her was not simply a parlor game or a pleasant pastime, but a mysterious art equal to all the recognized arts. She had never been in close contact with such people -- there was no one to compare him with except those inspired eccentrics, musicians and poets whose image one knows as clearly and as vaguely as that of a Roman Emperor, an inquisitor or a com.. | mistery-men chess | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| c416fa5 | Ho notato spesso che siamo inclini a dotare i nostri amici della stabilita tipologica che nella mente del lettore acquistano i personaggi letterari. Per quante volte possiamo riaprire , non troveremo mai il buon re che fa gazzarra e picchia il boccale sul tavolo, dimentico di tutte le sue pene, durante un'allegra riunione con tutte e tre le figlie e i loro cani da compagnia. Mai Emma si riavra, animata dai sali soccorrevoli contenuti nella.. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| bddfc6f | Oh, Lolita, you are my girl, as Vee was Poe's and Bea Dante's, and what little girl would not like to whirl in a circular skirt and scanties? | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| d3712c7 | Since I sometimes won the race between my fancy and nature's reality - the deception was bearable. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| bd4adb3 | Actually she was at least in her late twenties (I never established her exact age for even her passport lied) and had mislaid her virginity under circumstances that changed with her reminiscent moods. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| e5d5b4a | If you want to make a movie out of my book, have one of these faces gently melt into my own, while I look. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| c4b876d | Stilletos of a frozen stillicide [...] In the lovely line heading this comment the reader should note the last word. My dictionary defines it as 'a succession of drops falling from the eaves, eavesdrop, cavesdrop.' I remember having encountered it for the first time in a poem by Thomas Hardy. The bright frost has eternalized the bright eavesdrop. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| 4411021 | D]avid began to argue, with the whining intonations of German astonishment, [...] that everyone did it. | whining observation | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| 22170ad | I vot, to, chto ia davno podozreval, - bessmyslennost' mira, - stalo mne ochevidno. Ia pochuvstvoval vdrug neveroiatnuiu svobodu, - vot ona-to i byla znakom bessmyslennosti. | meaning-of-life | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| 8466ce3 | The crickets kept crepitating; from time to time there came a sweet whiff of burning juniper; and above the black alpestrine steppe, above the silken sea, the enormous, all-engulfing sky, dove-gray with stars, made one's head spin, and suddenly Martin again experienced a feeling he had known on more than one occasion as a child: an unbearable intensification of all his senses, a magical and demanding impulse, the presence of something for w.. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| ebc0040 | But even in such works where the author is ideally unobtrusive, he remains diffused through the book so that his very absence becomes a kind of radiant presence. As the French say, il brille par son absence -- "he shines by his absence." In connection with Bleak House we are concerned with one of those authors who are so to speak not supreme deities, diffuse and aloof, but puttering, amiable, sympathetic demigods, who descend into their boo.. | how-to literary-criticism | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| d79c963 | Golden haze, puffy bedquilt. Another awakening, but perhaps not yet the final one. This occurs not infrequently: You come to, and see yourself, say, sitting in an elegant second-class compartment with a couple of elegant strangers; actually, though, this is a false awakening, being merely the next layer of your dream, as if you were rising up from stratum to stratum but never reaching the surface, never emerging into reality. Your spellboun.. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| e7fe21b | Time means succession, and succession, change: Hence timelessness is bound to disarrange Schedules of sentiment. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| a06eb1b | A late arrival had the impression of lots of loud people unnecessarily grouped within a smoke-blue space between two mirrors gorged with reflections. Because, I suppose, Cynthia wished to be the youngest in the room, the women she used to invite, married or single, were, at the best, in their precarious forties; some of them would bring from their homes, in dark taxis, intact vestiges of good looks, which, however, they lost as the party pr.. | party drunk | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| 7c4b08d | Thrice, to the mighty heave-ho of his invisible tossers, he would fly up in this fashion, and the second time he would go higher than the first and then there he would be, on his last and loftiest flight, reclining, as if for good, against the cobalt blue of the summer noon, like one of those paradisiac personages who comfortably soar, with such a wealth of folds in their garments, on the vaulted ceiling of a church while below, one by one,.. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| a6ff3d6 | And a beautiful garden, not far from a beautiful lake, and I said it sounded perfectly perfect. | humor language-play nice-language | Vladimir Nabokov | |
| 83f5583 | But nobody yet had been able to dig down to what was most captivating about her: this was the mysterious ability of her soul to apprehend in life only that which had once attracted and tormented her in childhood, the time when the soul's instinct is infallible; to seek out the amusing and the touching: to feel constantly an intolerable, tender pity for the creature whose life is helpless and unhappy; to feel across hundreds of miles that so.. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| 3c8f5bf | Why do you think I have ceased caring for you, Lo? -Well, you haven't kissed me yet, have you? | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| 9beac43 | A jovo azonban mit sem torodik erzeseinkkel es fantazialasunkkal. A jovo minden pillanatban a szetagazo lehetosegek vegtelenje. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| f0f5bfb | To the sound of this voice, to the music of the chessboard's evil lure, Luzhin recalled, with the exquisite, moist melancholy peculiar to recollections of love, a thousand games that he had played in the past... There were combinations, pure and harmonious, where thought ascended marble stairs to victory; there were tender stirrings in one corner of the board, and a passionate explosion, and the fanfare of the Queen going to its sacrificial.. | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| 2e03da0 | My patient was one of those singular and unfortunate people who regard their heart ("a hollow, muscular organ," according to the gruesome definition in Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, which Pnin's orphaned bag contained) with a queasy dread, a nervous repulsion, a sick hate, as if it were some strong slimy untouchable monster that one had to be parasitized with, alas." | Vladimir Nabokov | ||
| 12bc506 | Another tormentor inquired if it was true that I had installed two ping-pong tables in my basement. I asked, was it a crime? No, he said, but why two? "Is that a crime?" I countered, and they all laughed." | Vladimir Nabokov |