Words Quotes (page 80)
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Elizabeth's spirit's soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. 'How could you begin?' said she.
'I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?' 'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
Jane Austen
In our gradually shrinking world, everyone is in need of all the others. We must look for man wherever we can find him. When on his way to Thebes Oedipus encountered the Sphinx, his answer to its riddle was: « Man». That simple word destroyed the monster. We have many monsters to destroy. Let us think of the answer of Oedipus.
Giorgos Seferis
Autunm eats its leaf out of my hand: we are friends. From the nuts we shell time and we teach it to walk: then time returns to the shell. In the mirror it's Sunday, in dream there is room for sleeping, our mouths speak the truth. My eye moves down to the sex of my loved one: we look at each other, we exchange dark words, we love each other like poppy and recollection, we sleep like wine in the conches, like the sea in the moon's blood ray. We stand by the window embracing, and people look up...
Paul Celan
We should get a move on you know... ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."Hermione let out a sputter of indignation. "A pair of... what excuse me?"Well - you know," said Ron shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with - with Eloise Midgen, say."Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice."Her nose's off-centre," said Ron."Oh I see," Hermione said bristling. "So basically you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you even if she's...
J. K. Rowling
Like all who are impassioned, I take blissful delight in losing myself, in fully experiencing the thrill of surrender. And so I often write with no desire to think, in an externalized reverie, letting the words cuddle me like a baby in their arms. They form sentences with no meaning, flowing softly like water I can feel, a forgetful stream whose ripples mingle and undefine, becoming other, still other ripples, and still again other. Thus ideas and images, throbbing with expressiveness,...
Fernando Pessoa
