Best 885 quotes in «letters quotes» category

Ti se nadaš da čuješ nešto više o Viktoru Igou. Šta mogu da ti o njemu kažem ? To je čovek kao i svaki drugi, sa dosta ružnim licem i dosta prostom spoljašnjošću. Ima izvaredne zube i veličanstveno čelo, bez obrva, bez trepavica. Malo govori, izgleda da pazi na sebe i da neće da govori više nego što treba; vrlo je učtiv i pomalo usiljen. Veoma mi se sviđa zvuk njegovog glasa. Imao sam uživanje da ga posmatram izbliza; gledao sam ga sa čuđenjem, kao neku kasicu u kojoj bi se nalazili milioni i kraljevski dijamanti, razmišljajući o svemu što je izišlo iz tog čoveka, koji je tada sedeo pored mene na jednoj maloj stolici, i stalno upirući oči u njegovu desnu ruku, koja je napisala toliko lepih stvari. A to je, međutim, bio čovek zbog koga mi je najviše zakucalo srce otkad sam na svetu, i možda čovek koga sam najviše voleo od svih onih koje ne poznajem. Govorilo se o pogubljenjima, o osvetama, o lopovima, itd. Taj veliki čovek i ja upravo smo najviše razgovarali; ne sećam se više da li sam rekao pametne stvari ili glupe, ali sam ih rekao prilično mnogo. – Sestri, Pariz januara 1843.

To you I shall say, as I have often said before, do not be in a hurry, the right man will come at last; you will in the course of the next two or three years meet with somebody more generally unexceptionable than anyone you have yet known, who will love you as warmly as possible, and who will so completely attract you that you will feel you never really loved before.

We are loved way more by some of the people who have not contacted us in the last twelve or so months than we are loved by some of those who contact us every twelve or so days … or hours.

We had a great time hanging out with the nerdy girls of that suite and pretending to be so depressed and in pain. The problem was, you were never pretending

Today I raised your letter hastily to my lips, and it set my teeth on edge.

Today I bought a small Frosty. This may not seem significant, but the fact is: I'm lactose intolerant. Purchasing a small Frosty, then, is no different than hiring someone to beat me. No different in essence. The only difference, which may or may not be essential, is that, during my torture, I am gazing upon your beautiful employees.

Together they will spend a happy hour seated side by side..., while Ivy's tender hand guides Duffy's as he traces out laboriously, in pencil, over and over until he has them off pat, the magic letters of his name. More than the wedding itself, that little ceremony there under the lamp, all silent save for the soft scratching of graphite on paper, will mark the true beginning of their life together.

To my babies, Merry Christmas. I'm sorry if these letters have caught you both by surprise. There is just so much more I have to say. I know you thought I was done giving advice, but I couldn't leave without reiterating a few things in writing. You may not relate to these things now, but someday you will. I wasn't able to be around forever, but I hope that my words can be. -Don't stop making basagna. Basagna is good. Wait until a day when there is no bad news, and bake a damn basagna. -Find a balance between head and heart. Hopefully you've found that Lake, and you can help Kel sort it out when he gets to that point. -Push your boundaries, that's what they're there for. -I'm stealing this snippet from your favorite band, Lake. "Always remember there is nothing worth sharing, like the love that let us share our name." -Don't take life too seriously. Punch it in the face when it needs a good hit. Laugh at it. -And Laugh a lot. Never go a day without laughing at least once. -Never judge others. You both know good and well how unexpected events can change who a person is. Always keep that in mind. You never know what someone else is experiencing within their own life. -Question everything. Your love, your religion, your passions. If you don't have questions, you'll never find answers. -Be accepting. Of everything. People's differences, their similarities, their choices, their personalities. Sometimes it takes a variety to make a good collection. The same goes for people. -Choose your battles, but don't choose very many. -Keep an open mind; it's the only way new things can get in. -And last but not least, not the tiniest bit least. Never regret. Thank you both for giving me the best years of my life. Especially the last one. Love, Mom

To write is human, to get mail, Divine!

To write is human, to get mail: Devine!

To write is human, to receive a letter: Devine!

Twitter actually may be improving its users’ writing, as it forces them to wring meaning from fewer letters.

Two words. Three vowels. Four constenants. Seven letters. It can either cut you open to the core and leave you in ungodly pain or it can free your soul and lift a tremendous weight off you shoulders. The phrase is: It's over.

We are like children who look at print and see a serpent in the last letter but one, and a sword in the last.

We have had for breakfast, toasts, cakes, a yorkshire pie, a piece of beef about the size and much the shape of my portmanteau, tea, coffee, ham and eggs...

We lay aside letters never to read them again, and at last destroy them out of discretion, and so disappears the most beautiful, the most immediate breath of life, irrecoverably for ourselves and for others.

What a good-for-nothing-fellow Charles is to bespeak the stockings - I hope he will be too hot all the rest of his life for it! -

What's this one, Mum? There's no return address, and there's like, five stamps on it. Who's it from?" Leaning forward to get a closer look at the stamps, I didn't notice the fleeting look of immense sadness pass over her face. "Oh it's nothing, darling." I raised my eyebrow at her. She sighed. "An overseas friend. You wouldn't know her." And before I could ask what 'her' name was, Mum had left the room.

What would I wish for the one who is mine? I would wish him a good, knowledgeable sense, a resilient gut, and the capability for survival. Wrong... it is not enough just to survive... To the one who is mine, I would also wish faith that will renew and heal him from the pains of existence.

What dangerous machines letters are. Perhaps it is as well that they are going out of fashion. A letter can be endlessly reread and reinterpreted, it stirs imagination and fantasy, it persists, it is red-hot evidence. It was a long time since I had received anything resembling a love letter.

When fall comes to town, lovers, letters, and leaves reunite on the sidewalks, broken, burnt, and brown.

What’s left of what your body was —once the girl with bare shoulder blades , giggling, once the girl galloping an imaginary horse, once the girl sleeping in her sequined red dress— was now ash in a jar. Grains of bone. But then, I knew it wasn’t you anymore. You were somewhere more.

When you come home, darling, I shant have your letters, but I shall have yourself, which is more-- oh more, and better, than I can even think! I sit here with my little whip, cracking the time away, 'till not an hour is left of it- then you are here! And joy is here-- joy now and forevermore! Tis only a few days, Susie, it will soon go away, yet I say, "go now, this very moment, for I need her- I must have her, oh, give her to me!" Sometimes when I do feel so, I think it may be wrong, and that God will punish me by taking you away; for He is very kind to let me write to you, and to give me your sweet letters, but my heart wants more.

When I am all alone, I often, very often, say your name aloud…

When you put a thing on paper, sometimes you discover you already know the answer. Or maybe that there is no answer, which is the same thing.

Where are you now? How are the nymphs? I suppose they have led you a fine dance.

where was I? in remarking that me is the envelopes and not nearly so much so, the often foolish letters inside.

Who loves you most, and loves you best, and thinks of you when others rest? 'Tis Emilie.

Why not fall in love with an artist? Otherwise there are no letters, pictures, paintings and songs for you when you wake up.

Wild animals, that is what we are, John. You believe in man and his laws, and laws would not be necessary if we were not wild animals. Look at my cat, he does not attack you, even though you have desecrated his territory. We men, we are wild. Rabid and petulant... In a rabid dog too, one can see only – a short life.

Wine isn’t strong enough. It’s blood I want.

Winter arrived with December, and the world continued to suffer the loss of the Internet and most forms of communication. Supply chains were disrupted. The only mass form of personal communication was the letter, and postal workers were having their worst year ever, as they were actually meeded. Food was becoming scarcer and more expensive, as was fuel for vehicles and heating. Major cities experienced riots on a regular basis, spurred on by religious fervor and want. Civilization was on the brink of collapse.

With symbols you have connected the two worlds, the visible and the invisible.

Working for OSHA is a horrible job to have. You have to ignore the whistle blowers and send them illegal letters saying that you cannot find any problems. I have a lot of those fraudulent letters, as I have been through OSHA twice. Once as the utility company employee and once as the utility company subcontractor employee. It is a disgusting & blatently corrupt system.

Words - especially written ones, meant only for us - have a power to comfort, tell truths, and communicate profound emotions in a way that few things can.

Writing doesn't hurt anymore for I've somehow convinced myself that you're never going to read everything I've written for you...

Write to me only once a week, so that your letter arrives on Sunday — for I cannot endure your daily letters, I am incapable of enduring them. For instance, I answer one of your letters, then lie in bed in apparent calm, but my heart beats through my entire body and is conscious only of you. I belong to you

When I told the therapist that the “me” that I am now is the best me I can be, I was truthful. I’ve always given you my best, so when you say it's not enough, it chips away at the “best me.

Yes, I miss you, I miss you.

Yetkin, ama acı veren bir büyü ile buradasınız! Benim burada olduğum gibi, daha da elle tutulur biçimde; ben neredeysem siz de oradasınız, benim olduğum kadar, daha da belirli.

You are not married to a millionaire of thirty but to a pretty broken and prematurely old man who hasn't a penny except what he can bring out of a weary mind and a sick body.

You began the letter with the form of the cross, and the sound “A,” a symbol of a man and a Christian. With the first nine letters you said that it is good to live honorably in this world. Your signs are letters. Your letters are numbers. Your letters are also symbols.

You could make something amazing out of something awful.

You can live to be old or young, but you'll always have moments when you lose your head.

You cannot find peace by avoiding life, you know.” His mother smiled at him and sat across the table, spreading her papers around as if they were a tablecloth made of silken letters.

You have to let me go. You have to let me let you go. C

You never noticed but I was right there, in the spaces between all the words you wrote for him.

You know that when your partner deletes their messages to a past lover after being accused of cheating, then it is likely that they were being unfaithful in some way.

You put me in touch with my own soul.

Your letters are birds. Caught in your net, stirred from their flight... Their wings are our written down speech. Landing and takeoff is conducted according to the rules. The rules you call grammar, but it is nothing other than geometry.