Not Caring Quotes (page 24)
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I think back to the end of our visit when she first came to New York, how different that sentiment sounded from my lips. How different our first night together was on those stools in my kitchen - careful and restrained. How different he is from me. He is real and raw - the two things I loved about him. The two things I've never really been able to be, at least not in my real life, only in the worlds I create on paper. At least not since that summer.
Emily Giffin
Lines. I die but when the grave shall press. The heart so long endeared to thee. When earthy cares no more distress. And earthy joys are nought to me. Weep not, but think that I have past. Before thee o'er the sea of gloom. Have anchored safe and rest at last. Where tears and mouring can not come.'Tis I should weep to leave thee here. On that dark ocean sailing drear. With storms around and fears before. And no kind light to point the shore. But long or short though life may be'Tis nothing to...
Emily Bronte
He would not deceive himself so much. He would not? and this was the test? pretend to care about women when the only sex that attracted him was his own. He loved men and always had loved them. He longed to embrace them and mingle his being with theirs. Now that the man who returned his love had been lost, he admitted this.
E. M. Forster
Here's a news flash for the ladies: for every one of you who thinks we all want a girl like Angelina Jolie, all skinny elbows and angles, the truth is, we'd rather curl up with someone like Charlotte - a woman who's soft when a guy wraps his arms around her; a woman who might have a smear of flour on her shirt the whole day and not notice or care, not even when she goes out to meet with the PTA; a woman who doesn't feel like an exotic vacation but is the home we can't wait to come back to.
Jodi Picoult
It does not do to rely too much on silent majorities, Evey, for silence is a fragile thing, one loud noise, and its gone. But the people are so cowed and disorganised. A few might take the opportunity to protest, but it'll just be a voice crying in the wilderness. Noise is relative to the silence preceding it. The more absolute the hush, the more shocking the thunderclap. Our masters have not heard the people's voice for generations, Evey and it is much, much louder than they care to remember.
Alan Moore
I think about the reader. I care about the reader. Not “audience.” Not “readership.” Just the reader. That one person, alone in a room, whose time I’m asking for. I want my books to be worth the reader’s time, and that’s why I don’t publish the books I’ve written that don’t meet this criterion, and why I don’t publish the books I do until they’re ready. The novels I love are novels I live for. They make me feel smarter, more alive, more tender toward the world. I hope, with my own books, to...
Jeffrey Eugenides
He was a man who was charged with the work he did in life because he was not one to ask questions - not so much on account of any natural quality of discretion as because he simply could never think of any questions to ask....On the strength of which he had guaranteed himself regular employment for as long as he cared to live.
Douglas Adams
You didn’t get it. Sacrifice is a part of life. It’s supposed to be. It’s not something to regret. It’s something to aspire to. Little sacrifices. Big sacrifices. A mother works so her son can go to school. A daughter moves home to take care of her sick father. That’s the thing. Sometimes when you sacrifice something precious, you’re not really losing it. You’re just passing it on to someone else.
Mitch Albom
How often people speak of art and science as though they were two entirely different things, with no interconnection. An artist is emotional, they think, and uses only his intuition; he sees all at once and has no need of reason. A scientist is cold, they think, and uses only his reason; he argues carefully step by step, and needs no imagination. That is all wrong. The true artist is quite rational as well as imaginative and knows what he is doing; if he does not, his art suffers. The true...
Isaac Asimov