Best 19526 quotes in «book quotes» category

For what was it about books that once finished left the reader in a bit of a haze and made them reread the last few sentences in order to continue the ringing in their hearts a while longer, so as not to let the silence illumine the fact that reading, they had gained something — distance, a lesson, a companion, a new world — but now, after the last full stop, they had lost something palpable and felt a little emptier than before.

Francine looked up and mouthed, "Thank you." "any titme," I lied.

From the beginning, she had sat looking at him fixedly. As he now leaned back in his chair, and bent his deep-set eyes upon her in his turn, perhaps he might have seen one wavering moment in her, when she was impelled to throw herself upon his breast, and give him the pent-up confidences of her heart. But, to see it, he must have overleaped at a bound the artificial barriers he had for many years been erecting, between himself and all those subtle essences of humanity which will elude the utmost cunning of algebra until the last trumpet ever to be sounded shall blow even algebra to wreck. The barriers were too many and too high for such a leap. With his unbending, utilitarian, matter-of-fact face, he hardened her again; and the moment shot away into the plumbless depths of the past, to mingle with all the lost opportunities that are drowned there.

From the third case, she took yet more books, but these were the traveling books that she had brought for her new ward: they were at once sterner and more reassuring that the others. She cared for for these, too- they were books after all, and she would sooner have her own spine broken than manhandle a book - but not with the same devotion, and they were placed in a neat pile on the floor.

f you are ready to cry..to feel the pain..to take the risk? You are ready for love

Gameplay is all our life. Either we guard, attack or develop pieces.

Generally speaking, books don't cause much harm. Except when you read them, that is. Then they cause all kinds of problems.

Get a good book, get few bottles of water or few cups of tea/coffee or Chocolate milk and start reading.

Getting married early is like wrestling with calculus on a merry trip to Las Vegas!

Get up, and wipe your lip, Camille. It seems you are bleeding.

Give all your time and attention to books and see the magic.

Give up your thirst for books, so that you do not die a grouch.

God always keeps His promises.

God created all things. It's men who decide which ones are mistakes.

God doesn’t promise us escape from suffering or pain. Rather, He promises to miraculously use even bad situations for your ultimate good.

God is the only book that can never be touched, open and seen.

God takes us through life`s journey. Always nudging our Spirits to go for plus and shun the minus.

Go for it because for all those moments that you would make up your mind the other might have already rushed for it.

Great books live longer than people. They are gonna bury us all.

Great books make a great life.

Hatred is a nightmare from which you can't wake up.

Hair the color of lemons,'" Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. "You told him about me?" At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It's likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn't matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting. Years ago, when they'd raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death. Of course I told him about you," Liesel said.

Hatred, like a bush fire, ultimately consumes those who propagate it, leaving nothing but scorched, barren earth behind in their hearts. Love, the greatest of reckless endeavours, inspires men to greatness in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds... Maybe this book is just that, a reckless endeavour of the heart.

Haven't you ever happened to come across in a book some vague notion that you've had, some obscure idea that returns from afar and that seems to express completely your most subtle feelings?

GREAT THINGS COME OUT OF LONELINESS; LIKE INSPIRATION THAT BRINGS PEOPLE TOGETHER!

Great souls encouraged us to be great.

Happy be the reader plunged into her book who forgot the world and whom world forgot.

Have the best course for all your actions.

Have you never picked up a book you've read before, and found it speaks to you in a new way?

He always had a song to dictate to me. He did simple things, which meant the world to me.

He'd failed them, the swimming goldfish of his life's tiny existence whom he held so dear in his heart; he'd turned his muses into mistakes and no one knew the difference but him.

Heavy rains and a good book. A perfect extravagance.

He clearly suffers from some past traumas too, so hopefully he'll understand why I was untruthful to him about mine.

heeping (noun): a state of mindlessly following others when in fact you know the truth and the right actions you must take, but you don’t want to overcome social resistance, accept the brief emotional pain of going against social pressure, and assume full responsibility for your life.

He failed to see that it contained at once all of Djuna's wishes which had been denied, and these wishes had flown from all directions to meet at this intersection and to plead once more for understanding.

He realised war was not against an enemy. War is against everything – you never know who is the friend or foe. For Pierre, this bookshop was war.

He lived like a devil and died like a saint. Life is paradoxical, but I believe that I could also be the person I am today, if life would have cut me with happiness, instead of pain. I would be the same. I didn’t need the pain to grow, or be who I really am inside of me. Because life, life cuts you like a precious stone and shows the brilliance of your essence…but maybe we can learn also with joy and happiness, and turn into the same persons, just happier. We don’t need pain to learn

He loved books, those undemanding but faithful friends.

He has the etiquette of a frog

He lived like a devil and died like a saint

Her dad must be a big guy. He pictured a muscular man with a baseball hat on backwards, smoking a cigarette, and drinking a bottle of Wild Turkey while watching underground cockfighting tapes.

her dream was dipped in honey; of a girl with hair like fire and eyes like the night sky

Here I was, seeing you almost every week, and talking with you, and knowing that the only one in your heart was Kizuki. It hurt. It really hurt. And I think that's why I slept with girls I didn't know.

Her gaze wavered towards one of the books on the sales counter beside the register, a hardcover copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet with many of the pages dog-eared and stained with coffee and tea. The store owner caught her looking at it and slid it across the counter towards her. “You ever read Hamlet?” he questioned. “I tried to when I was in high school,” said Mandy, picking up the book and flipping it over to read the back. “I mean, it’s expected that everyone should like Shakespeare’s books and plays, but I just….” her words faltered when she noticed him laughing to himself. “What’s so funny, Sir?” she added, slightly offended. “…Oh, I’m not laughing at you, just with you,” said the store owner. “Most people who say they love Shakespeare only pretend to love his work. You’re honest Ma’am, that’s all. You see, the reason you and so many others are put-off by reading Shakespeare is because reading his words on paper, and seeing his words in action, in a play as they were meant to be seen, are two separate things… and if you can find a way to relate his plays to yourself, you’ll enjoy them so much more because you’ll feel connected to them. Take Hamlet for example – Hamlet himself is grieving over a loss in his life, and everyone is telling him to move on but no matter how hard he tries to, in the end all he can do is to get even with the ones who betrayed him.” “…Wow, when you put it that way… sure, I think I’ll buy a copy just to try reading, why not?” Mandy replied with a smile.

Her hands moved up his arms and tried to ignore the tingling zapping her skin like the metal edges of the Operation game.

Her presence had awakened in him a man suddenly whipped by his earlier ideals, whose lost manhood wanted to assert itself in action.

He snatched up the reins again, holding her tight. There was nothing affectionate or remotely romantic about the gesture; it was desperation, like a man clinging to a ledge. "We run.

He swatted at her with his book. "Shut up and read, will you?" He lay back down and closed his eyes. Emma glanced over to check that he was smiling, and smiled too.

He stood there watching for a moment, not able to move. Even with her mascara running down her face and her hair beginning to frizz, she was still by far the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. It was quite simple, wasn’t it? This great affection he had for Olivia was so overwhelming he chose to walk away instead of being brutally honest with himself.

He took my hand, made me stand on the branch and asked, "What can you see from here?" "Nothing" I said, "Know what I can see? From this distance everything is so bloody perfect".