Best 5099 quotes in «literature quotes» category

Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.

He's arm'd without that's innocent within; Be this thy Screen, and this thy Wall of Brass.

Hesitation increases in relation to risk in equal proportion to age.

He taught me literature, and he actually taught me how to read. He was my personal mentor.

He that hath no cross deserves no crown.

He was a sociologist; he had got into an intellectual muddle early on in life and never managed to get out.

He travels fastest who travels alone, and that goes double for she. Real feminism is spinsterhood.

He was a fiddler, and consequently a rogue.

He valued life and literature equally for the light they threw upon each other; to his mind one implied the other; he was unable to conceive of them apart.

He was always sort of a scrappy little kid wasn't he? A bit of a fighter?

He was very concerned about his children potentially being kidnapped or attached, and that's why they were covered up. When he went to Berlin zoo, there were 200 photographers.

He who awaits much can expect little.

He who has religion will speak poetry. But philosophy is the tool with which to seek and discover religion.

He who follows his lessons tastes a profound peace, and looks upon everybody as a bunch of manure.

He who goes unenvied shall not be admired.

He who has a task to perform must know how to take sides, or he is quite unworthy of it.

He who is only just is cruel; who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?

He who is firmly seated in authority soon learns to think security, and not progress, the highest lesson in statecraft.

He would take the blow so you didn't have to.

He who would accomplish little must sacrifice little; he who would achieve much must sacrifice much; he who would attain highly must sacrifice greatly.

He would write it for the reason he felt that all great literature, fiction and nonfiction, was written: truth comes out, in the end it always comes out. He would write it because he felt he had to.

His examiner said severely: "Baskerville, you blank round, discursiveness is not literature." "The aim of literature," Baskerville replied grandly, "is the creation of a strange object covered with fur which breaks your heart.

Hip is the sophistication of the wise primitive in a giant jungle.

Hindu religious literature, indeed all religious literature, is full of illustrations to prove the truth.

Historians of literature like to regard a century as a series of ten faces, each grimacing in a different way.

History takes time. History makes memory.

His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge.

Historically, the claim of consensus has been the first refuge of scoundrels; it is a way to avoid debate by claiming that the matter is already settled.

History is full of people who went to prison or were burned at the stake for proclaiming their ideas. Society has always defended itself.

His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours.

History is one of those marvelous and necessary illusions we have to deal with. It's one of the ways of dealing with our world with impossible generalities which we couldn't live without.

Hitchcock makes it very clear to us. There's an objective and a subjective camera, like there's a third- and a first-person narrator in literature.

Holden Caulfield is the best character in literature, period.

Hobbies are apt to run away with us, you know; it doesn't do to be run away with. We must keep the reins.

Hollywood is a narcotic, not a stimulant. It wants to sell you something. Literature wants to tell you something.

Honesty prospers in every condition of life.

Hope is independent of the apparatus of logic.

Hostesses who entertain much must make up their parties as ministers make up their cabinets, on grounds other than personal liking.

House guests should be regarded as perishables: Leave them out too long and they go bad.

Horace, in a particularly boastful mood, once said his verse would last as long as the vestal virgins kept going up the Capitoline Hill to worship at the temple of Jupiter. But Horace's poetry has lasted longer than Jupiter's religion, and Jupiter himself has only survived because he disappeared into literature.

How can any man be weak who dares to be at all?

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

How can a rational being be ennobled by any thing that is not obtained by its own exertions?

How can one take delight in the world unless one flees to it for refuge?

How come anything you buy will go on sale next week?

How easily some light report is set about, but how difficult to bear.

However, I learned something. I thought that if the young person, the student, has poetry in him or her, to offer them help is like offering a propeller to a bird.

However things may seem, no evil thing is success and no good thing is failure.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot? The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

How has the human spirit ever survived the terrific literature with which it has had to contend?