Touching You Quotes (page 17)
Listen, lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there [to see Jesus raise the dead] I would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now." His voice seemed about to crack and the grandmother's head cleared for an instant. She saw the man's face twisted close to her own as if he were going to cry and she murmured, "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. The Misfit sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her...
Flannery O'Connor
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely...
Allen Ginsberg
A here exists only in relation to a there, not the other way around. There's this only because there's that; if we don't look up, we'll never know what's down. Think of it, boy. We find ourselves only by looking what we're not. You can't put your feet on the ground until you've touched the sky.
Paul Auster
She stretched out her hand, saying, “Vernon! My dear, what a delightful surprise!”
“What’s surprising about it?” he enquired, lifting his black brows. “Didn’t you ask me to come?”
The smile remained pinned to Lady Buxted’s lips, but she replied with more than a touch of acidity: “To be sure I did, but so many days ago that I supposed you had gone out of town!”
“Oh, no!” he said, returning her smile with one of great sweetness.
Georgette Heyer
I don't care. He'll only be painting his own feelings for me, and I don't mind if he does that. I wouldn't have him touch me, not for anything. But if he thinks he can do anything with his owlish arty staring, let him stare. He can make as many empty tubes and corrugations out of me as he likes. It's his funeral. He hated you for what you said: that his tubified art is sentimental and self-important. But of course it's true.
David Herbert Lawrence
see the people on the sidewalk?...aren't you glad you're not one of them?
they're all so self-importantly going nowhere...they just have no idea of who they are or where they really belong. nothing will ever be enough for them. nothing will truly make them happy. they all think they've got to get someplace, got to meet someone, got to get to work, got to get home, got to keep that appointment. if they had a hundred million bucks, it wouldn't be enough for them. if they had four cars, they'd...
Kinky Friedman