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Stills Quotes (page 150)

I still remember "the mighty Cros" visiting the ranch in his van. That van was a rolling laboratory that made Jack Casady's briefcase look like chicken feed. Forget I said that! Was my mic on? Neil Young
Love is lak de sea. It’s uh movin’ thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it’s different with every shore. Zora Neale Hurston
For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin-real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. - Sam's Letters for Jennifer James Patterson
As one does the return of sun after winter, I stood still and accepted the warm glow of possibility, of feeling right in the company of this small, oddly fierce person, with the inky hair and the lovely, unemphasized body. Jeffrey Eugenides
Evidently, evildoing also has a threshold magnitude. Yes, a human being hesitates and bobs back and forth between good and evil all his life. He slips, falls back, clambers up, repents, things begin to darken again. But just so long as the threshold of evildoing is not crossed, the possibility of returning remains, and he himself is still within reach of our hope. But when, through the density of evil actions, the result either of their own extreme danger or of the absoluteness of his... Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
Manilov was pleased by these final words, but he still couldn't make sense of the deal itself, and for want of an answer, he began sucking his clay pipe so hard that it started to wheeze like a bassoon. He seemed to be trying to extract from it an opinion about this unprecedented business; but the clay pipe only wheezed and said nothing. Nikolai Gogol
Crying is alright in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do. C. S. Lewis
He found something mean in the pretty furniture which he had bought for his house on the hire system. Annie had chosen it herself and it reminded him of her. It too was prim and pretty. A dull resentment against his life awoke within him. Could he not escape from his little house? Was it too late for him to try to live bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was furniture still to be paid for. If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way for him. James Joyce
There he was. The infant Titus. His eyes were open but he was quite still. The puckered-up face of the newly-born child, old as the world, wise as the roots of trees. Sin was there and goodness, love, pity and horror, and even beauty for his eyes were pure violet. Earth's passions, earth's griefs, earth's incongruous, ridiculous humours - dormant, yet visible in the wry pippin of a face. Mervyn Peake
We were, the two of us, still fragmentary beings, just beginning to sense the presence of an unexpected, to be-aquired reality that would fill us and make us whole. Haruki Murakami
Fyodor Dostoevsky quote: "You're Sappho, I'm Phaon, agreed. But there's one thing still..."
You're Sappho, I'm Phaon, agreed. But there's one thing still troubling me: You don't know your way to the sea. Fyodor Dostoevsky
Terry gets annoyed when I describe his mother as cold. She isn't cold, he insists, just a little standoffish, and not so gabby as certain members of my family. While Terry's mom doesn't believe in asking intrusive questions, like "How are you?", she's still a warm and loving mom; just quiet and undemonstrative. Dan Savage
Victor Hugo quote: "It's not enough to abolish abuse; custom must also be..."
It's not enough to abolish abuse; custom must also be transformed. The mill was pulled down, but the wind still blows. Victor Hugo
a little downy girl still wearing poppiesstill eating popcorn in the colored gloamwhere tawny Indians took paid croppersbecause you stole herfrom her wax-browed and dignified protectorspitting into his heavy-lidded eyeripping his flavid toga and at dawnleaving the hog to roll upon his new discomfortthe awfulness of love and violetsremorse despair while youtook a dull doll to piecesand threw its head awaybecause of all you didbecause of all I did notyou have to die Vladimir Nabokov
Now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain. Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes. That witnessed huge affliction and dismay. Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate: At once as far as angels ken he views. The dismal situation waste and wild, A dungeon horrible, on all sides round. As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames. No light, but rather darkness visible. Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace. And rest... John Milton

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