Best 5099 quotes in «literature quotes» category

Such fascinating things, libraries. She closes her eyes. She could walk inside and step into a murder, a love story, a complete account of somebody else’s life, or mutiny on the high seas. Such potential; such adventure—there’s a shimmer of malfeasance in trying other ways of being.

Suçladığım kişilere gelince: Hiçbirini tanımıyorum. Onları hiç görmedim. Kendilerine karşı ne hıncım var, ne kinim. Onlar benim için topluma kötülük eden kişilerden, kafalardan başka birşey değildir. Benim burada yaptığım şey gerçeğin ve adaletin ortaya çıkmasını hızlandırmak için devrimci bir araca başvurmaktan başka birşey değildir.

Sun is a hearthstone, a merry-go-round of extinguished hearthstones.

Sunbathe from within.

Surely it is better to read altogether only three pages of a four-hundred-page book a thousand times more thoroughly than the normal reader who reads everything but does not read a single page thoroughly... It is better to read twelve lines of a book with the utmost intensity and thus to penetrate into them to the full, as one might say, rather than read the whole book as the normal reader does, who in the end knows the book he has read no more than an air passenger knows the landscape he overflies.

Sure we all need money but what do you really focus on? It is a matter of the heart. If your thoughts are on material and worldly things, no good fruits can come out of it. Seek the kingdom of God first and the other things shall be added unto you not vice versa.

Sürüye katılmayı seçersen bağışıklık kazanırsın. Kabul görmek ve takdir edilmek istiyorsan kendini hiçliğe indirgemen, sürüdeki diğer koyanlardan ayırt edilmez kılman gerekir. Düş görebilirsin, ama herkesle aynı düşü görmek koşuluyla.

Tanrı'ya karşı olduğumu sanma, dedi. Tanrı'ya inancım tamdır. Yalnız cennet ve cehenneme inanmıyorum işte. İnsanları aptal yerine koyup onları öbür dünyada cennete, ya da cehenneme gideceklerini söylemek bence saçmalığın en büyüğü.

Tanrım, biraz aklımız olsa ölümü düşününce kalkıp sevincimizden dans ederdik! Bulduğumuz çarelerden yararlanmayı bilseydik yarın hepimiz yataklarımızda ölebilirdik, acı çekmeden, huzur içinde, Ölmek istemiyoruz, sorunumuz bu bizim. Tanrı ve yukarıdaki çöp tenekelerindeki diğer her şey bu yüzden var.

Technically, you cannot really own a book you bought; you can only own the sheets of paper your copy is printed on; unless, of course, you are the book’s publisher.

Tell a story in fewer and simpler words.

Tek bir tanık, tanık sayılmaz.

Terminus dahü: Hastanın ameliyat masasında ölme ihtimali. Status idem: Hastanın durumu değişmemiş aynı. Rezektabl: Ameliyatla çıkarılabilir.

Tempestuous plains tell the tale, Windswept wastes do bewail, Haunting Spirit of the land, Seeks the living, seeks the damned. Horizoned edge sheared with grass, Dark Storm Rising in the pass, Ageless Spirit seeks the path, To torment souls to the last. Brooding Spirit upon the plain, Thunderhead gathers for the rain. Light grows dim then bolts with pain, On dry Earth her sin is stained. (Frightened creatures do stampede, Into night, they do recede). Ungodded hand on seasoned blade, Reaps the harvest of the Age. Released from her eternal din, Spirit of the Age rises again. Seeking to plunder and consume, Those who were proud, those who presumed. Spirits rage while storm draws nigh, Upon burning plain and emblazoned sky. It is said giants grapple in the Earth so deep, To contend for souls that they might keep. The Storm spirit now searches the high and the low, To seek her manchild victim in the fields below. Leaves bad wasteland to claim but a fallen man, Denying it Heaven, crowning it, ‘Son of the Damned.’ Treacherous Spirit of the far lost night, Tramples souls down denying them light. Storm seethes with furious hiss, Leads men on to bottomless pit. This most ancient of foes has come from her den, To seek the living, to make ready those dead. A living sacrifice is her soul desire, To snatch the soul for black funeral pyre. A double-damned devil, that is she, This one who lies, who claims to make free. A lying spirit, that is her domain, A storm-wracked Fury of self-proclaim. Onward she seeks, this bleak Northern wind, Searching for naught but for a soul akin. Amidst the howling and the rage, To murder again, that is her trade. As this spirit of graves left the plain, She left a wake of dead in shrouded train. Now down from the plain Storm did come, Unto those cities wherein was no sun. There with whirlwind she did rip and scour, For those souls of whom she could tear and devour. She comes to seek the living and the dead, Those who were frightened, those with no dread. Thus upon those she did acclaim, “I am the Mistress of the living and the slain.” O’ haunting Spirit of this land, Taker of life, maker of the damned. --On Villainess Storm, Ch. One Valley of the Damned

Terkadang, salah dan benar hanya dipisahkan oleh sesuatu yang tak pernah ada.

That cloak of love you were wearing—he’s torn it to shreds, undoing the seams of trust that held it together. How can you ever wear those shreds?

That is how we writers all started: by reading. We heard the voice of a book speaking to us.

That night, I wash myself. The silky suds between my legs are the color and scent of rust, but I am newer than I have ever been.

That resplendent space created by a piece of fiction can really expand the width of time... Clearly there is a spot somewhere inside our heads they records that feelings we had when we read the book, and it stays with us forever.

That resplendent space created by a piece of fiction can really expand the width of time... Clearly there is a spot somewhere inside our heads that records the feelings we had when we read the book, and it stays with us forever

That's sounds right. Another $5,000 went to dress up the Little League park where he had played so many games. Seems like he paid off the MORTAGE on his parents' home, which wasn't that much.

That society must to listen,the real truth;for that,nature has her sequel shifts,thus she makes her sensible experiments around the earth—with her enduring laws to obey while she moves.

That's the most important thing. If I keep reading, maybe I can hold my own.

That such a slave as this should wear a sword, Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion That in the natures of their lords rebel, Being oil to the fire, snow to the colder moods, Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.

That’s what it means to be out of your mind. To let yourself be carried away by a dream. To give it room, let it grow wild and thick, until it overruns you.

That's why I've just gone on … collecting this particular kind of stuff – what you might call riff-raff. There's not a book here, Lawford, that hasn't at least a glimmer of the real thing in it – just Life, seen through a living eye, and felt. As for literature, and style, and all that gallimaufry, don't fear for them if your author has the ghost of a hint of genius in his making.

That's why literature is so fascinating. It's always up for interpretation, and could be a hundred different things to a hundred different people. It's never the same thing twice.

That's what sofas are for: sit down, drink a cup of tea, talk of literature. At least that's how I see it.

That was always my fear, that perhaps books would lead me astray, teaching me about a life that didn’t match reality.

That was when Estefania, who had made her pain the world’s pain, stood up, her knees dirty, shaking, her tights torn. She took a distanced look around and then she started tearing her tights even more. She kicked her expensive shoes through the wind, then she ripped off her dress, screaming as if it were burning, her second skin, her role as an actress, her one-woman show, as if she herself were on fire, as if her clothes were drenched in acid and abandoned love.

That you are a born again Christian does not mean you will automatically succeed except you follow God's principles. Never forget faith without good work is dead.

The air itself is one vast library, on whose pages are for ever written all that man has ever said or woman whispered.

The American girl isn't ANY girl; she's a remarkable specimen in a remarkable species.

The act of true reading is in its very essence democratic. Consider the nature of what happens when we read a book - and I mean, of course, a work of literature, not an instruction manual or a textbook - in private, unsupervised, un-spied-on, alone. It isn't like a lecture: it's like a conversation. There's a back-and-forthness about it. The book proposes, the reader questions, the book responds, the reader considers. We bring our own preconceptions and expectations, our own intellectual qualities, and our limitations, too, our own previous experiences of reading, our own temperament, our own hopes and fears, our own personality to the encounter.

The African continent has so many stories to tell, it's about time they are told, by them - not us.

The amount of meaning you get into a sentence, the dimensions and intensity of the impression you make a paragraph carry, are most extraordinary.... You once told me you were not a natural writer—my God! You have plainly mastered the craft, of course; but you needed far more than craftsmanship for this. [about The Great Gatsby]

The back of the church was raised up from the ground. Tossed in among its supports were what looked like moldering bones. My heart ached so much for these poor souls, neglected even after death, I turned away to head back, but managed only a few burdened steps. I drew up abruptly and froze. An old, worn marker, standing off by itself, grabbed at my heart. It was Edgar Alan Poe. He fit in so perfectly there. Maybe I did, too. His sorrow and pain ate through me as I stood, head lowered. Can’t even death let us step away from our darkness? It was like he was scratching a warning into the dirt with his finger, and meant it specifically for me. Don’t wait around for sermons to wash you clean, he seemed to say, for death or drugs to close your eyes. God won’t come roaring in with fresh troops to drive away the darkness we’ve walled our own souls up in. He didn’t put us there; we’ll have to dig ourselves out. I looked at my own life as I stood there, feeling buried alive, like some of his characters. But unlike his characters I had caught a flash of hope.

The artist is the creator of beautiful things.    To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.      The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

The best fiction is truer than history

The best thing about being a writer is that 'work' is always something you love, plus usually accompanied by tea, coffee and cakes of some sort.

The best fiction is history

The books—the generous friends who met me without suspicion—the merciful masters who never used me ill! The only years of my life that I can look back on with something like pride... Early and late, through the long winter nights and the quiet summer days, I drank at the fountain of knowledge, and never wearied of the draught.

The book exists for us perchance which will explain our miracles and reveal new ones. The at present unutterable things we may find somewhere uttered. These same questions that disturb and puzzle and confound us have in their turn occurred to all the wise men; not one has been omitted; and each has answered them, according to his ability, by his words and his life.

The books we love offer a sketch of a whole universe that we secretly inhabit, and in which we desire the other person to assume a role. One of the conditions of happy romantic compatibility is, if not to have read the same books, to have read at least some books in common with the other person—which means, moreover, to have non-read the same books. From the beginning of the relationship, then, it is crucial to show that we can match the expectations of our beloved by making him or her sense the proximity of our inner libraries.

The book that simply demands to be read, for no good reason, is asking us to change our lives by putting aside what we usually think of as good reasons. It's asking us to stop calculating. It's asking us to do something for the plain old delight and interest of it, not because we can justify its place on the mental spreadsheet or accounting ledger (like the one Benjamin Franklin kept) by which we tote up the value of our actions.

The chaos of their voices registers as a single, overwhelming force cutting off her ability to reason, and all she wants is to get as far away from people as possible.

The characters act for reasons that they can’t control and, as readers, we have to believe in their motivations, their sense of choice and in the reality of their suffering, even though, deep down, we know it’s all just puppetry on the part of the writer.

The capital ... shall form a fund, the interest of which shall be distributed annually as prizes to those persons who shall have rendered humanity the best services during the past year. ... One-fifth to the person having made the most important discovery or invention in the science of physics, one-fifth to the person who has made the most eminent discovery or improvement in chemistry, one-fifth to the one having made the most important discovery with regard to physiology or medicine, one-fifth to the person who has produced the most distinguished idealistic work of literature, and one-fifth to the person who has worked the most or best for advancing the fraternization of all nations and for abolishing or diminishing the standing armies as well as for the forming or propagation of committees of peace.

The closer we try to get to God, the more we will hate to sin in our own lives, the more we are saddened by the thoughts that runs through our minds. I also think that the more we draw closer to God, the more God will honour us and will open doors for the right things to happen in our life.

The church preach so much about power in the kingdom of God but we don't talk about wisdom. Everybody goes for power forgeting that power without wisdom can be disastrous.