Best 5099 quotes in «literature quotes» category

Despite how lonely or broken down you might feel, we need you with us helping to make the world better, kinder and safer, especially for the little girls coming up.

Det er derfor Heart of Darkness står ved siden af Le Regard du Roi, og Wide Sargasso Sea står lige ovenover Jane Eyre. De to sidstnævnte stod før i tiden ved siden af hinanden, men så besluttede jeg, at det var bedre at rette op på den gamle koloniale ubalance ved at give Rhys overtaget – altså den øverste hylde

Did I know myself less, I might perhaps venture to handle something or other to the bottom, and to be deceived in my own inability; but sprinkling here one word and there another, patterns cut from several pieces and scattered without design and without engaging myself too far, I am not responsible for them, or obliged to keep close to my subject, without varying at my own liberty and pleasure, and giving up myself to doubt and uncertainty, and to my own governing method, ignorance.

Die Bücher habe ich nach und nach gekauft von dem Geld, das ich mir Stundengeben verdiente. Viele davon antiquarisch, alle Klassiker zum Beispiel, ein Band kostete eine Mark und zwanzig Pfennig in steifem, blauem Leinen. Ich habe sie vollständig gekauft, denn ich war gründlich, bei ausgewählten Werken traute ich den Herausgebern nicht, ob sie auch das Beste genommen hatten. Deshalb kaufte ich mir "Sämtliche Werke". Gelesen habe ich sie mit ehrlichem Eifer, aber die meisten sagten mir nicht recht zu. Um so mehr hielt ich von den anderen Büchern, den moderneren, die natürlich auch viel teurer waren. Einige davon habe ich nicht ganz ehrlich erworben, ich habe sie ausgeliehen und nicht zurückgegeben, weil ich mich von ihnen nicht trennen mochte. […] Ich bin aufgeregt; aber ich möchte es nicht sein, denn das ist nicht richtig. Ich will wieder diese stille Hingerissenheit, das Gefühl dieses heftigen, unbenennbaren Dranges verspüren, wie früher, wenn ich vor meine Bücher trat. Der Wind der Wünsche, der aus den bunten Bücherrücken aufstieg, soll mich wieder erfassen, er soll den schweren, toten Bleiblock, der irgendwo in mir liegt, schmelzen und mir wieder die Ungeduld der Zukunft, die beschwingte Freude an der Welt der Gedanken wecken; – er soll mir das verlorene Bereitsein meiner Jugend zurückbringen.

Different languages, the same thoughts; servant to thoughts and their masters.

Did you think of anything when Miss Marcy said Scoatney Hall was being re-opened? I thought of the beginning of Pride and Prejudice – where Mrs. Bennet says 'Netherfield Park is let a last.' And then Mr. Bennet goes over to call on the rich new owner.

Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again. A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he'd somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.

Doğum yapalı bir saat bile olmamıştı. Tom'un nerede olduğunu Tanrı bilir. Narkozdan çıkınca yoğun bir terkedilmişlik hissi içimi kapladı ve hastabakıcıya kız mı oğlan mı diye sordum. Kız olduğunu öğrenince de, arkamı döndüm ve ağladım "pekala" dedim kendime "kız olduğuna sevindim. Umarım aptal olur. Çünkü bu dünyada bir kız için en iyisi aptal ve güzel olmak.

Do not look too far for you will see nothing.

Do not speak unflatteringly of Jane," Flora said, walking beside Chad. "She is the greatest writer to have ever lived." "I thought that was Shakespeare." "William was, or course, quite good," Flora said. "But no one can compare to Jane Austen.

Don Quixote is not an imaginary person; he is as real as Alexander the Great.

Don Quixote is not just Don Quixote; La Mancha is not just geography; It is our personal territory— Terra Nostra.

Don’t break the rules when you haven’t fully figured them out yet.

Don't bother looking for the meaning of it all. There isn't one. Maybe not, but life compulsively dangled the possibility. Life, the dramatist on speed. Life, that couldn't stop with its foreshadows and ironies and symbols and clues, its wretched jokes and false endings and twists. Life with its hopeless addiction to plot.

Don't for God's sake speak as saint to sinner, but as you yourself to me myself - poor me!

Don’t interrupt when your characters take a flight of their own.

Don’t just read me, listen to me.

Don’t look up to people, don’t be someone’s following. Now a days everything you see is just a lie, Instead be the person you want to follow.

Don't teach me the alphabet, I will teach you the literature

Don't starve an instinct with a lie on, Never hit or deceive a wounded lion. He heals faster than you can imagine And hurts even more when in famine.

Don't you think our society is designed to kill in that way? Of course, you've surely heard about those tiny fish in the rivers of Brazil which attack the swimmer by the thousands, eat him up in a few moments in quick little mouthfuls and leave only a perfectly clean skeleton behind? So, that's the way they're constituted. 'Do you want a clean life, like everyone else?' Of course the answer is yes. How could you not? 'Fine. We'll clean you up. Here's a job, here's a family, here's some organized leisure.' And the little teeth bite into the flesh, right down to the bone. But i'm being unfair. I shouldn't have said, 'the way they're constituted', because after all, it's our way, too: it's a case of who strips whom.

Do you know the feeling when you start reading a new book before the membrane of the last one has had time to close behind you? You leave the previous book with ideas and themes–characters even–caught in the fibers of your clothes, and when you open the new book, they are still with you

Do we take less pride in the possession of our home because its walls were built by some unknown carpenter, its tapestries woven by some unknown weaver on a far Oriental shore, in some antique time? No. We show our home to our friends with the pride as if it were our home, which it is. Why then should we take less pride when reading a book written by some long-dead author? Is it not our book just as much, or even more so, than theirs? So the landowner says, ‘Look at my beautiful home! Isn’t it fine?’ And not, ‘Look at the home so-and-so has built.’ Thus we shouldn’t cry, ‘Look what so-and-so has written. What a genius so-and-so is!’ But rather, ‘Look at what I have read! Am I not a genius? Have I not invented these pages? The walls of this universe, did I not build? The souls of these characters, did I not weave?

Do you believe that every story must have a beginning and an end? In ancient times a story could end only in tow ways: having passed all the tests, the hero and the heroine married, or else they died. The ultimate meaning to which all stories refer has two faces: the continuity of life, the inevitability of death.

Do you want to acquire God's own wisdom? Relate with the Holy Spirit. Be a seeker of divine guidance by the Holy Spirit. You can't be a man or woman of solution without God.

Dostoyevski okumaya başladığım o ilk gece, hayatımın en önemli olaylarından biriydi, ilk aşkımdan bile daha önemli.

Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You’d find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more ‘literary’ you are. That’s my definition anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies. So now you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life.

Dream by making and make by dreaming.

Dreams are good at playing with your memory. They love leaving no trace behind and hate to show up once again in the morning.

During his extensive career as an airmail pilot with Aéropostale, Antoine served as the company’s station manager in barren Villa Bens. During the Second World War, although he was older than most, Saint-Exupéry joined the Free French Air Force. On July 31, 1944, as fate would have it, he disappeared on a reconnaissance mission flying a P-38 Lightning over the Mediterranean, somewhere south of Marseille. The body of a French pilot was found a few days after Antoine’s disappearance and was buried in Carqueiranne, France. After his death he became an icon and national hero throughout France. For a fleeting moment I wondered what anyone could do to pass the time of day at such a remote location…. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry used his time to write books! Today the word Aéropostale takes on an entirely new meaning. It has become the name of an American retailer of casual apparel for young people. Go figure….

Dualar da şikayet dilekçesi gibidir. Ya yerine ulaşmaz, ya da ulaşsa bile red cevabıyla geri çevrilir.

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Is that all?

Each age, each guilty age, builds high walls round its Versailles; and personally I hate those walls most when they are made by literature and art.

Earth is the source of light.

El trabajo me parece una estupidez odiosa a la que es difícil escapar

Ebediyet çok uzundur.

Eğer kederlenmek istemiyorsan, kendini üzüntüye kaptırmamalısın. Ne kadar az kaygılanırsan, kaygılanacağın konu da o kadar azalır.

Écrire, c'est faire appel au lecteur pour qu'il fasse passer à l'existence objective le dévoilement que j'ai entrepris par le moyen du langage.

Eén van de belangrijkste factoren voor geestelijke groei is immers tijd om na te denken en vrije tijd om uitdrukking te kunnen geven aan je gedachten.

Eğer çocuklarınız sizden daha iyi değillerse onları boş yere dünyaya getirmişsiniz, siz de boş yere yaşamışsınız demektir.

Eğer insanoğlu hiç hastalanmazsa, isteklerine sınır tanımaz.

Elgin himself looked ten years younger, now that he’d cast the die, but I thought exuberance had got the better of him when he strode into the saloon later, threw The Origin of Species on the table and announced: "It’s very original, no doubt, but not for a hot evening. What I need is some trollop." I couldn’t believe my ears, and him a church-goer, too. "Well, my lord, I dunno,” says I. "Tientsin ain’t much of a place, but I’ll see what I can drum up —" "Michel’s been reading Doctor Thorne since Taku," cried he. "He must have finished it by now, surely! Ask him, Flashman, will you?" So I did, and had my ignorance, enlightened.

... endowing the imperfect and the preterite with all the sweetness which there is in generosity, all the melancholy which there is in love; guided the sentence that was drawing to an end towards that which was waiting to begin, now hastening, now slackening the pace of the syllables so as to bring them, despite their difference in quantity, into a uniform rhythm, and breathed into this quite ordinary prose a kind of life, continuous and full of feeling.

Energy manipulation took place completely in mind,same way believing in telepathy caused telepathic abilities to grow STRONGER.

. . . enjoying literature as those alone enjoy it who have little else to enjoy.

En sonra, birinci savaş konseyini, bir sanığa gizli kalan bir belgeye dayanarak hüküm giydirdiği için hukuku çiğnemekle suçluyorum. İkinci savaş konseyini de üstten gelen emre uyarak, bir suçluyu, suçunu bile bile temize çıkarıp ağır adli suç işlemekle, böylece birinci konseyin yasaya aykırı davranışını örtbas etmekle suçluyorum.

English is the language through which I reach hearts from various corners of the world. English is the language through which I flirt with my species. English is the language through which I make my species think.

En yakın arkadaşım, Matriyona yoktu artık... Son gününde bir kazak yüzünden nasılda azarlamıştım!

En uzun yaşayan, en çok yaşayan değildir.

Era crédula, aunque lo negara, seguía creyendo en cuentos de hadas, por más que la vida trataba de decirme a gritos que las cosas no funcionaban de esa manera.