Measuring Quotes (page 28)
A man who tells secrets or stories must think of who is hearing or reading, for a story has as many versions as it has readers. Everyone takes what he wants or can from it and thus changes it to his measure. Some pick out parts and reject the rest, some strain the story through their mesh of prejudice, some paint it with their own delight. A story must have some points of contact with the reader to make him feel at home in it. Only then can he accept wonders.
John Steinbeck
Your young white, who gathers his learning from books and can measure what he knows by the page, may conceit that his knowledge, like his legs, outruns that of his fathers’, but, where experience is the master, the scholar is made to know the value of years, and respects them accordingly.
James F. Cooper
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your...
Pablo Neruda
Absolute silence greeted the mystery of death, and for a time impossible to measure they waited, motionless, while Lynn's spirit rose from her body. Severo felt a long howl surging from the center of the earth and passing through his body to his lips, but it did not escape. The scream invaded him, filled him, and burst inside his head in a silent explosion. Portrait in Sepia, Isabel Allende.
Isabel Allende
Oh, the comfort -The inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person -Having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring Them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; Certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, Keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness, Blow the rest away. Dinah Craik
Dinah Maria Mulock
Love was supposed to move mountains, to make the world go round, to be all you need, but it fell
apart at the details. It couldn’t save a single child-not the ones who’d gone to Sterling High that day,
expecting the normal; not Josie Cormier; certainly not Peter. So what was the recipe? Was it love,
mixed with something else for good measure? Luck? Hope? Forgiveness?
Jodi Picoult