Best 1169 quotes in «novel quotes» category

‘Can’t you see what they are?’ I said. ‘They’re all dead.’

Cases of typhoid take the following course: When the fever is at its height, life calls out to the patient: calls out to him as he wanders in his distant dream, and summons him in no uncertain voice. The harsh, imperious call reaches the spirit on that remote path that leads into the shadows, the coolness and peace. He hears the call of life, the clear, fresh, mocking summons to return to that distant scene which he had already left so far behind him, and already forgotten. And there may well up in him something like a feeling of same for a neglected duty; a sense of renewed energy, courage, and hope; he may recognize a bond existing still between him and that stirring, colourful, callous existence which he thought he had left so far behind him. Then, how far he may have wandered on his distant path, he will turn back--and live. But if he shudders when he hears life's voice, if the memory of that vanished scene and the sound of that lusty summons make him shake his head, make him put out his hand to ward off as he flies forward in the way of escape that has opened to him--then it is clear that the patient will die. " Buddenbrooks

Ce e dragostea? E un vânt nebun care ne dă bătăi de cap, dar fară de care nu putem respira.

Certe volte è difficile stabilire se è l'alba o il tramonto. Qui il sole è sempre lo stesso. Quando è vicino all'orizzonte comincia ad adagiarsi, come felice di una morte a lungo aspettata. Oppure, se lo guardiamo da un'altra angolazione, sembra una palla un po' sgonfia che sta per lanciarsi verso l'alto in un impeto elastico... ... Mi incamminai verso la riva, misi i piedi nell'acqua. Era freddo. Cercai di immaginarmi T. Per la prima volta riuscivo a vederla come una persona umana, di carne, non come una vuota bambola di un film esistenzialista. La fisicità con cui la vedevo ora che era morta mi colpì con forza. A lei piaceva giocare con le parole. E capii che io non avrei dovuto giocare con lei, che non avrei dovuto giocare a fare un romanzo. Non avrei dovuto scherzare con la vita.

Chief Johnson has full faith on us. Which means if I can complete this task and hunt down the murderer, not only does the chief won't feel any uncertainty on Anthony and I, but the spirits of the victims can move on. It sounds silly to believe that the undead is still around, but it is the truth. And since I have a good heart, I must use it.

Chocolate makes everything better, in the end,” he announced, and Thayer fully agreed. Thayer gave him a smile of gratitude and watched Castel lift his spoon from the saucer. He dipped it, gracefully, into his coffee and gave it a light stir. “Too many people rush to stir such delicate flavours. Take too long and they will clog together to become a lump of bitterness in your coffee. But take your time and be gentle with them,” Castel explained, quietly, “and they will create a symphony of flavours, to melt in your mouth,” he said, leaning down, just until his nose was over his cup, to take a long inhale. He smiled and straightened, extracting the spoon to place it back on his saucer. “Now try it.” Thayer took a sip and almost felt his toes curl at the luxurious taste. ~ Cinnamon Kiss

Cinta itu menjaga, tergesa-gesa itu nafsu belaka - Asma

Cinta itu membutuhkan hati untuk mengingat, bukan pikiran

Cold November nights. It feels as if summer never happened. The beauty of setting sun, moon, and stars. Sailing to nowhere, but finding happiness in our togetherness. Never forget what we are. Stranded hearts." Fidelis O. Mkparu (2016), author of 'Love's Affliction' (and soon to be published 'Tears before Exaltation')

Coincidence sometimes happens as in a fairy tale. Wong was in an emotional state of mind. Still smoking opium, he thought about Kwang’s long-dead father, who had arrived in Singapore from Amoy on the junk Nam Hong. The opium den now felt bare and lonely without all the old vibrations. It was also dark and damp and the small kerosene lamp was running low on fuel. Wong added more kerosene and mumbled to himself, “Tonight I am going to smoke my way to heaven!

Couldn't I try...Naturally, it wouldn't be a question of a tune...But couldn't I in another medium?...It would have to be a book: I don't know how to do anything else. But not a history book: history talks about what has existed - an existent can never justify the existence of another existent. My mistake was to try to resuscitate Monsieur de Rollebon. Another kind of book. I don't quite know which kind - but you would have to guess, behind the printed words, behind the pages, something which didn't exist, which was above existence. The sort of story, for example, which could never happen, an adventure. It would have to be beautiful and hard as steel and make people ashamed of their existence. I am going, I feel irresolute. I dare not make a decision. If I were sure that I had talent...but I have never, never written anything of that sort; historical articles, yes - if you could call them that. A book. A novel. And there would be people who would read this novel and who would say: 'It was Antoine Roquentin who wrote it, he was a red-headed fellow who hung about in cafés', and they would think that about my life as I think about the life of the Negress: as about something precious and almost legendary. A book. Naturally, at first it would only be a tedious, tiring job, it wouldn't prevent me from existing or from feeling that I exist. But a time would have to come when the book would be written, would be behind me, and I think that a little of its light would fall over my past. Then, through it, I might be able to recall my life without repugnance. Perhaps one day, thinking about this very moment, about this dismal moment at which I am waiting, round-shouldered, for it to be time to get on the train, perhaps I might feel my heart beat faster and say to myself: 'It was on that day, at that moment that it all started.' And I might succeed - in the past, simply in the past - in accepting myself.

Conocía las respuestas a casi todas las preguntas que él mismo formulaba. Así la vida era más sencilla.

Cormag caught his hand and pulled him back until they were facing each other. “I think you're amazing,” he said, blurting the words out. Lachlan smiled, completely shocked and thrilled by how captivating he found him. He had never thought this could happen to him, that he would be attracted to another boy. He thought he knew himself so well. “I think you're smart, sexy, funny as hell. You have hidden depths, Lachlan. You only need the right person to coax you out of your protective shell,” he claimed. “Are you the right person?” Lachlan wondered, as he took a half step forward. Cormag took a deep breath and brushed at a strand of hair that was sticking out at a funny angle from behind the top of his ear. He tugged at his short hair every time he talked about his recent break up. He was such a dork.

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.

Cursed the crown that brought such grief to me

Dan satu hal yang tak boleh dilupakan, kesedihannya tak seujung kuku dibandingkan dengan nestapa yang harus dipanggul banyak manusia lain di bumi ini.

Death is but a dream and life is merely the daydream of death.

Describing colors to a blind is what writing is all about.

Did time move forward, through people, or did people move through it, like clouds across the sky?

Did you ever think it won’t be the undead who kill us, but ordinary people?

Di satu masa, rasa itu pernah ada. Hanya saja, kita terlambat untuk menyadarinya.

¡Dios bendiga los tiempos antiguos, en que existían cosas raras...!

Dari Profesor Charlotte ia bisa belajar tentang kekuatan fokus. "Sejak masih remaja, ketika teman-temanku lebih suka belajar menyanyi dan menari, aku tidak. Aku tidak ikut-ikutan mereka. Aku sudah punya cita-cita yang jelas. Kukatakan pada diriku, aku harus jadi profesor di The University of Edinburgh. Aku mulai belajar bahasa asing dengan serius. Salah satu teman sekolahku ketika itu berasal dari Irak. Dia gadis yang cantik dan baik. Ayahnya pengajar di Baghdad University sedang menyelesaikan Ph.D. bidang Kimia di The University of Edinburgh. Aku belajar bahasa Arab darinya. Aku belajar cerita seribu satu malam dengan bahasa Arab darinya. Sejak itu saya tertarik dengan dunia Arab. Dan aku fokus mendalaminya. Kini keinginan saya menjadi kenyataan. Kau lihat Fahri, aku sudah jadi Profesor di The University of Edinburgh.

Dead. Supposedly Suicide. That's how they'll kill Michael too. Make it look like a suicide or an accident of some sort.

Death doesn’t always want your eternal sleep. Sometimes Death just wants your eternity.

Did somebody die?” “Yes,” I replied. “Who?” he asked, starting to freak out. I pulled out my notepad and asked him if he knew a Marcie Tucker. “Marcie? Hm, Marcie, it doesn't ring a bell but… Oh yeah, the temp who's filling in while my regular assistant is out, I think her name is Marcie. In fact, she was supposed to be here today. I was actually starting to worry that… Wait. Is she…” “Unfortunately yes,” I said, “Marcie was found in her apartment late last night uh… no longer alive.” My bedside manner has never been my strong suit. Dr. Taggart looked distressed and began to ramble incoherently for a minute. I let him work through it though, I figured it was his way of grieving. I wouldn't have even paid attention to it except for the fact that it was kind of goofily, ineptly… well, poignant: "Oh, uh, Oh my God. That's terrible. I uh… I hope she didn't have any family. I mean, I don't hope she didn't have any family, what I mean is, if she uh… if she didn't have any family then there would be nobody to get all bummed out about this and uh… you know, when something like this happens, you always think about the poor, heartbroken family, so uh… if she doesn't have any family then uh… the bright side would be that nobody would, you know, have to be all bummed out." Hm. I guess I never thought of it that way. Awkward wording aside, he's kind of got a point there.

Discourses, which are mostly wrapped in spurious religious and patriotic ideologies that ignite the enthusiasm of the ignorant masses

Dogeared pages means someone is reading a paperback...

Do you think we can be friends?” I asked. He stared up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but we can pretend.

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.

Doubt you’d find anyone as dashingly charming as me

Dude, don’t die out here.

Don’t be offended if you encounter some good-natured ribbing; the idea of writing a novel in a month deserves to be laughed at.

Don't Rush Up The Stairs, you Just Might Fall. Take it One Step At A Time!

Do we really mean it when we say ‘in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do us part or do we add a silent clause, ‘unless you shame me or disappoint me?’ What is the cost of unconditional love and how capable are we of giving that?

Do you think I'd have plans to take your virgin cherry if I only wanted you to be my employee? You're mine, Winnie. And you're gonna stay mine. Forever.

Drive. He’s already dead.

During the Japanese invasion, bombs had fallen from the sky and people could run for cover. Now, they exploded in the middle of the road, or in the fields while people were playing soccer.

Each new scientific fact gives rise to new uncertainties, and every pattern of starlight holds both a record and a prophecy.

Each photo is like a novel I can never open, Gary had explained once. I can hold it in my hand and only begin to imagine what's inside -- the lives these people might have led. Sometimes if there was a little clue on the photo - a name, date, or place - he'd try to research it...

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow, our lives. Is that why we're fascinated by the steadfastness of stars? The water reaches my calves. I begin the story of the Pleiades, women transformed into birds so Swift and bright that no man could snare them.

‘Eighth one this week,’ he said.

Ellis smiled at her concern and kissed her cheek once more. “I promise. I’ll come home if I need help.” He stepped back and gave them a bow, showing his respect. With their permission, he left the counsel room and headed straight to his room. He packed supplies for the journey. His mother had warned him that no magic worked inside of The Forbidden Woods or even in the outskirts of it. He would have to walk there on foot and hope that no one loyal to Walter caught up with him on his way.

English. That was where I met him.

Escaping Reality One Erotic Romance Novel At a Time.

Escribir como forma de vida o de muerte, depende de la trama.

eskiden yapılan meslekler, hiç olmazsa birçoğu, insanın o mesleğe karşı kişisel bir tutkusu yoksa, akla bile getirilmeyen mesleklerdi: topraklarına aşık köylüler, güzel masaların büyülü yaratıcısı dedem, köydeki insanların tümünün ayak ölçülerini ezbere bilen ayakkabıcılar; ormancılar, bahçıvanlar; o dönemlerde askerlerin bile birbirlerini tutkuyla öldürdüklerini düşünüyorum. yaşamın anlamı, insanlar için ‘bir soru işareti’ değildi, yaşam onlarla birlikteydi, tüm doğallığıyla, ilişkilerinde, tarlalarındaydı. her meslek, kendine özgü düşünce tarzını, kendine özgü varoluş biçimini yaratmıştı. bir doktor, bir çiftçiden başka biçimde düşünüyordu, bir askerin davranışı, bir köy öğretmeninin davranışına benzemiyordu. oysa bugün, hepimiz birbirimizin benzeriyiz; işimize karşı gösterdiğimiz ortak ilgisizlik bizi birbirimize bağlıyor. bu ilgisizlik bir tutku haline geldi. çağımızın tek büyük, kolektif tutkusu.

Even if we fall apart, even if we don't stay together, even if we Die there is this beauty about Love that keeps us alive in each others' heart, acting as a catalyst for beating the heart.

Even now I can’t describe the fear that contaminated my blood like black ink.

Every book has to wait for the right time to be read and understood.