Best 19526 quotes in «book quotes» category

Aku baca buku karena aku suka, bukan karena aku mengharap suatu penilaian dari orang-orang di sekitar aku. Bukan karena aku ingin dianggap hebat atau pintar atau berpendidikan atau beradab cuma karena udah baca sebuah karya sastra.

A knowledgeable citizen is a powerful citizen because knowledge is power! Make your nation a powerful one... Keep reading to acquire more knowledge! Let books be your friends; never disappoint them by not studying them frequently!

Ali Baba protects the lovers! Gives them the luck of bandits, and no guilt, for love fills certain people and expands them beyond all laws; there is no time, no place for regrets, hesitations, cowardices. Love runs free and reckless, and all the gentle trickeries perpetrated to protect others from its burns-those who are not the lovers but who might be the victims of this love's expansion.

A library is a sacred place where the voices of the ancients can still be heard if we but give them the required silence.

Aku percaya jika setiap hati memiliki bintangnya masing-masing. Yang bersinar terang dan membuat bahagia pemiliknya. Bintang-bintang itu adalah orang yang kita sukai. Namun di antara bintang-bintang tersebut, ada satu bintang yang paling terang. Jauh lebih terang sinarnya dari semua bintang yang ada. Bintang itu adalah pasangan resmi kita.

All I know is, being away from you......makes it hard to breathe. I miss you so much

All kinds of people read poetry: revolutionaries, scholars, sentimentalists etc. But above all else, lovers read poetry. Why? Because we fell in love. And then we fell in love with love.

All my life I've wanted to tell people I love them. Fear usually held me back, that they wouldn't care, or they wouldn't hear, or they would take too much from me once they knew.

All I want is pretty hair, books to read and a house by the sea.

All memory is individual, unreproducible - it dies with each person. What is called collective memory is not a remembering but a stipulating: that this is important, and this is the story about how it happened, with the pictures that lock the story in our minds.

All they told me was that he was forty-two when he died. I just wanted...to find out more about what kind of person he was. I could tell you more, amanda thought to herself. A lot more. She'd suspected the truth since Morgan Tanner had called, and she'd made some calls to confirm her suspicions. Dawson, she'd learned, had been taking off life support at CarolinaEast Regional Medical Center late Monday night. He's been kept alive long after doctors knew he would never recover, because he was an organ donor. Dawson, she knews, had saved Alan's life-but in the end, he'd saved Jared's as well. And for that meant...everything. I gave you the best of me, he'd told her once, and with every beat of her son's heart, she knew he'd done exactly that. How about a quick hug," she said, "before we go inside?" Jared rolled his eyes, but he opened his arms anyway. "I love you, Mom," he mumbled, pulling her close. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm in his chest. "I love you, too.

All the answers you seek in life. It is hidden a book.

All this time you’ve spoken to it, looked into your soul, and spied that darkness lurking and twisting through the fabric of all that you are. You fed it nothing but your hatred, your anger and guilt, shame, regret, and yes, your loneliness. It grew fat on all the things you wanted to be rid of. You did not suspect? Did the Tallis never consider the darkness within was looking back? Learning? And growing strong, ever stronger. Stupid, foolish girl. The Tallis never knew! Ignoring it all, stuffing all the bad and ugly things down, down, down doesn’t get rid of them. What you choose to feed your divine spark is what it turns into!

A love-story is a book to be read by everyone whose heart beats for someone!

All that you seek is hidden in book.

All this simply shows us that communalism and terrorism are nothing but opposite sides of the same coin. They keep feeding on each other in a vicious cycle, resulting in a society full of violence, hatred, sorrow and intolerance. Every communal act is used as a justification for mindless acts of terrorism . Similarly , each act of terrorism is used as a justification for such horrible atrocities like genocide and ethnic cleansing. And, it is always the innocent who get killed. This is the sad truth.

Almost every time I speak to teenagers, particularly young female students who want to talk to me about feminism, I find myself staggered by how much they have read, how creatively they think and how curiously bullshit-resistant they are. Because of the subjects I write about, I am often contacted by young people and I see it as a part of my job to reply to all of them - and doing so has confirmed a suspicions I’ve had for some time. I think that the generation about to hit adulthood is going to be rather brilliant. Young people getting older is not, in itself, a fascinating new cultural trend. Nonetheless the encroaching adulthood and the people who grew up in a world where expanding technological access collided with the collapse of the neoliberal economic consensus is worth paying attention to. Because these kids are smart, cynical and resilient, and I don’t mind saying that they scare me a little.

A matured woman is therefore a responsible woman irrespective of her age, status and qualification.

A lot of people who read my novel 'Smog City' ask me why I never killed off either of the two main characters. To be honest, it's because I've given them life. Not literally of course, but since I spent so much time developing and creating my characters, they've ended up with complex personalities, in fact they're almost sentient in a way, and to write them off as dead would be like killing a close friend to me.

Although many things may still need to happen before you identify what your exact work will be, I know that every single person whom you’re meeting and every experience that you’re having is necessary to you discovering your purpose. They are points on a map leading you to the moment where a match will finally be lit and you will be able to see through the darkness.

Although I think the word "pleasure" is unknown to you. More precisely, its practical meaning". #MilanoVeneziani. #ItalianPassion

Although I was so big, and so rough in many ways, loved hunting, fighting, horseback riding, I loved the piano above everything else...The mountain man's obsession is to get a glimpse of the sea.

Always and Everywhere a Book Is Waiting for Me

Always let the smoke linger long enough for you to remember it's sharp perky charm in-between two set of nervous arms. Darling, I've lost underneath these sunless skies where connection hangs perfectly where your spit splits in two mid air and obsessed with death, workout after workout; eyes glued to hyper space, revealing your lace and mind altering vivid pace.

Always set your mind to think thoughts of victory even before the battle begins, this way you will experience limitless possibilities.

A memorable heart is the easiest way to immortality.

A man who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions.

Amazon, Kindle, Lulu Press, Smashwords, Rakuten Kobo, Walmart, Barnes & Noble, SCRIBD, Apple iBooks, ClickBank University, Goodreads and there many book marketing, publishing, distribution are leading the book publishing corporations around the world.

Ancient aphorisms outlived centuries. Modern aphorisms can barеly survive from book to book.

A Memory Is Better Than A Phony!

And I know just’s well as anybody that if you control a man’s space and time then you control his whole goddamn life: he’s a goner, cause hell, there ain’t nothin’ for him to do in space and time but make the few choices he can make with what he got.

And if she spent rather more time with her nose in a book than was considered ideal at that time (or any other), well, at least that meant she always had a story to tell.

And at 3am you sit near the window and wonder if there is magic... because all you need are some fairies to take your pain away and help you sleep... you take a book to read... you take a pen and a paper to write...you cling on some music that might just make you fall asleep... yet nothing helps... another sleepless night and all you want is the dawn to break soon....

And look what just came in! She is being prayed for now! And look who he is praying to!! We are keeping a close watch on this situation. We can't have her leave our side. Not by the Enemy. He's already done enough!" Oh no. I saw those dreaded words on the paper. In the Name of Jesus. Pray to anyone else. Not to him. Not to that one. Oh. This can't be good.

And like Vera, I know that "truth lies beyond." I know that faith - like chastity, like intimacy, like the journey to the self - is an ongoing process. Yes, we do walk the labyrinth to the center of every greater knowledge of ourselves as we do in books like Gordimer's. We may also learn from them, as Vera learned, that no single human relationship can fulfill us, draw a small circle around who we are or can be. Others, alas, are as limited, as frail - and as mortal - as we are. We will be compelled, somehow, to leave the center we have found, and continue on our journey. For, self-transcending beings that we are, it is not the center that symbolizes our true selves but the entire labyrinth. If we are courageous enough not to give up on life, on human relationships, or on ourselves - as we surmise from the tone of the last passage is the case with Vera - we will walk it many times, inward and outward, each time going more deeply within, each time reaching out in a wider embrace. And we will have, thanks to the writers among us, not a single book - no single book can satisfy us, either - but many books to accompany us like intimate friends at each stage of the journey, to lead us yet closer to the truth that, as long as we live, lies beyond.

And I go home having lost her love. And write this book.

And Nephilim—we tend to love very overwhelmingly. To fall in love only once, to die of grief over love—my old tutor used to say that the hearts of the Nephilim were like hearts of angels: They felt every human pain, and never healed.

And that was it. That was the moment when everything started to shift. What do you want?

And now the measure of my song is done: The work has reached its end; the book is mine, None shall unwrite these words: nor angry Jove, Nor war, nor fire, nor flood, Nor venomous time that eats our lives away. Then let that morning come, as come it will, When this disguise I carry shall be no more, And all the treacherous years of life undone, And yet my name shall rise to heavenly music, The deathless music of the circling stars. As long as Rome is the Eternal City These lines shall echo from the lips of men, As long as poetry speaks truth on earth, That immortality is mine to wear.

And once the novelist has brought us to this state, in which, as in all purely mental states, every emotion is multiplied ten-fold, into which his book comes to disturb us as might a dream, but a dream more lucid and more abiding than those which come to us in sleep, why then, for the space of an hour he sets free within us all the joys and sorrows in the world, a few of which only we should have to spend years of our actual life in getting to know, and the most intense of which would never be revealed to us because the slow course of their development prevents us from perceiving them. It is the same in life; the heart changes, and it is our worst sorrow; but we know it only through reading, through our imagination: in reality its alteration, like that of certain natural phenomena, is so gradual that, even if we are able to distinguish, successively, each of its different states, we are still spared the actual sensation of change.

And the book... and the work.. and the life goes to the whole beginning... and trying to answer how in real did we met. (Mr.Nobody, No One Tell)

And so we continued to live in fear, hoping that we would not get caught. Fear had become our constant companion at this dreadful Lashkar-e-Taiba camp.

And the book (#7) is for whenever the hunt involves a lot of waiting around. Entertainment that won't eat up my batteries is always worth bringing.

And they...LIVED! Life isn't always ‘Happily Ever After’, rather, loving FOREVER, regardless.

And then red, marbled with pink, around two imperfect circles of bone-white with dark centers. A space where there shouldn’t be one—ground visible, covered with grass, and some clover. Red again—an image of the tomatoes on the kitchen counter flashed across Beatrice’s mind—surrounding two more bone-white circles. The hand bearing the peacock was severed, that was why Beatrice could see a sliver of ground where basic biology dictated there should be skin. There was a clean cut five inches or so above the wrist, just missing the edge of the peacock’s tail, the muscles and tendons—the bones—neatly sliced through like a Swiss round steak prepared by an expert butcher.

And then ... perhaps someone will write a book about making a film about a story that is taken from this book which is taken from a real-life story that was copied from a story in a book. You know?

A newspaper is an oversized book with adverts and an expiry date.

An intelligent woman is a goldmine! She has the ability to learn, reason and understand things better and faster than her contemporaries. She is competent, alert and can reason out stuffs easily.

And then he was gone. Leaving nothing but the swish of the front door, and a mountain of possibilities in his wake.

Any book without a mistake in it has had too much money spent on it.