Emily > Emily's Quotes

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  • #1
    J.D. Salinger
    “That killed me.”
    J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye


  • #2
    J.D. Salinger
    “Oh, I don’t know. That digression business got on my nerves. I don’t know. The trouble with me is, I like it when somebody digresses. It’s more interesting and all.”
    J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye


  • #3
    Diana Gabaldon
    “I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.”
    Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber


  • #4
    Jess C. Scott
    “When someone loves you, the way they talk about you is different. You feel safe and comfortable.”
    Jess C. Scott, The Intern


  • #5
    Lisa Kleypas
    “I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.”
    Lisa Kleypas, Blue-Eyed Devil


  • #6
    Elinor Glyn
    “Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze. ”
    Elinor Glyn


  • #7
    Albert Camus
    “After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.”
    Albert Camus, The Stranger


  • #8
    Patti Smith
    “I learned from him that often contradiction is the clearest way to truth”
    Patti Smith, Just Kids


  • #9
    Patti Smith
    “What will happen to us?" I asked. "There will always be us," he answered.”
    Patti Smith, Just Kids


  • #10
    Oscar Wilde
    “It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.”
    Oscar Wilde


  • #11
    Jane Austen
    “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”
    Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey


  • #12
    C.S. Lewis
    “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
    C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves


  • #13
    Oscar Wilde
    “I am not young enough to know everything.”
    Oscar Wilde
    tags: age


  • #14
    Anne Frank
    “Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.”
    Anne Frank


  • #15
    Oscar Wilde
    “You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.”
    Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
    tags: sin


  • #16
    Sylvia Plath
    “Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath


  • #17
    Chuck Palahniuk
    “What I want is to be needed. What I need is to be indispensable to somebody. Who I need is somebody that will eat up all my free time, my ego, my attention. Somebody addicted to me. A mutual addiction.”
    Chuck Palahniuk, Choke


  • #18
    Stephen Chbosky
    “And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower


  • #19
    Edgar Allan Poe
    “We loved with a love that was more than love.”
    Edgar Allan Poe


  • #20
    Virginia Woolf
    “I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and music and everything beautiful.”
    Virginia Woolf, The Voyage Out


  • #21
    Virginia Woolf
    “However, the majority of women are neither harlots nor courtesans; nor do they sit clasping pug dogs to dusty velvet all through the summer afternoon. But what do they do then? and there came to my mind’s eye one of those long streets somewhere south of the river whose infinite rows are innumerably populated. With the eye of the imagination I saw a very ancient lady crossing the street on the arm of a middle-aged woman, her daughter, perhaps, both so respectably booted and furred that their dressing in the afternoon must be a ritual, and the clothes themselves put away in cupboards with camphor, year after year, throughout the summer months. They cross the road when the lamps are being lit (for the dusk is their favourite hour), as they must have done year after year. The elder is close on eighty; but if one asked her what her life has meant to her, she would say that she remembered the streets lit for the battle of Balaclava, or had heard the guns fire in Hyde Park for the birth of King Edward the Seventh. And if one asked her, longing to pin down the moment with date and season, but what were you doing on the fifth of April 1868, or the second of November 1875, she would look vague and say that she could remember nothing. For all the dinners are cooked; the plates and cups washed; the children sent to school and gone out into the world. Nothing remains of it all. All has vanished. No biography or history has a word to say about it. And the novels, without meaning to, inevitably lie.

    All these infinitely obscure lives remain to be recorded, I said, addressing Mary Carmichael as if she were present; and went on in thought through the streets of London feeling in imagination the pressure of dumbness, the accumulation of unrecorded life, whether from the women at the street corners with their arms akimbo, and the rings embedded in their fat swollen fingers, talking with a gesticulation like the swing of Shakespeare’s words; or from the violet-sellers and match-sellers and old crones stationed under doorways; or from drifting girls whose faces, like waves in sun and cloud, signal the coming of men and women and the flickering lights of shop windows. All that you will have to explore, I said to Mary Carmichael, holding your torch firm in your hand.”
    Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own


  • #22
    Virginia Woolf
    “This self now as I leant over the gate looking down over fields rolling in waves of colour beneath me made no answer. He threw up no opposition. He attempted no phrase. His fist did not form. I waited. I listened. Nothing came, nothing. I cried then with a sudden conviction of complete desertion. Now there is nothing. No fin breaks the waste of this immeasurable sea. Life has destroyed me. No echo comes when I speak, no varied words. This is more truly death than the death of friends, than the death of youth.”
    Virginia Woolf, The Waves


  • #23
    Lewis Carroll
    “You used to be much more..."muchier." You've lost your muchness.”
    Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland


  • #24
    Lewis Carroll
    “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
    "That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."
    "I don't much care where –"
    "Then it doesn't matter which way you go.”
    Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland


  • #25
    Lewis Carroll
    “I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.”
    Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland


  • #26
    Lewis Carroll
    “In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.”
    Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland


  • #27
    Carrie Fisher
    “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. ”
    Carrie Fisher


  • #28
    Toba Beta
    “You can't be yourself within jealousy.”
    Toba Beta, Master of Stupidity




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