Going Out Quotes (page 26)
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If there's just one kind of folks, why can't they get along with each other? If they're all alike, why do they go out of their way to despise each other? Scout, I think I'm beginning to understand something. I think I'm beginning to understand why Boo Radley's stayed shut up in the house all this time. It's because he wants to stay inside.
Harper Lee
My mother spoke, alive again inside my brain...She spoke and I listened to her, because I was afraid if I didn't her voice would gradually fade away, an evanescent wraith of a thing that would narrow to a pinpoint of light and then go out, lost forever, like the Tinker Bell if no one clapped for her.
A. Whitney Brown
Dru: "I'll give you a seed if you sing..." Spike: "The bird's dead, Dru. You left it in the cage, and you didn't feed it, and now it's all dead, just like the last one. Dru pouts Oh, I'm sorry, baby. I'm a bad rude man. I just don't like you going out and all. You are weak. Would you like a new bird? One that's not dead?
Joss Whedon
And it all flew away like a dream--even my passion, and yet it really was strong and true, but...where has it gone now? Indeed the thought occasionally flits through my head: "Didn't I go out of my mind then and spend the whole time sitting in a madhouse somewhere, and maybe I'm sitting there now--so that for me it was all a seeming and only seems to this day.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Miss Morstan and I stood together, and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two, who had never seen each other until that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed, and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other. I have marveled at it since, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I would go out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her also the instinct to turn to me...
Arthur Conan Doyle
Why Brownlee left, and where he went, Is a mystery even now. For if a man should have been content. It was him; two acres of barley, One of potatoes, four bullocks, A milker, a slated farmhouse. He was last seen going out to plough. On a March morning, bright and early. By noon Brownlee was famous; They had found all abandoned, with. The last rig unbroken, his pair of black. Horses, like man and wife, Shifting their weight from foot to. Foot, and gazing into the future.
Paul Muldoon
