Char > Char's Quotes

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  • #1
    Donna Tartt
    “It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown I back, throat to the stars, "more like deer than human being." To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.”
    Donna Tartt, The Secret History

  • #2
    Donna Tartt
    “Beauty is rarely soft or consolatory. Quite the contrary. Genuine beauty is always quite alarming.”
    Donna Tartt, The Secret History

  • #3
    Alice Oseman
    “I wish I could be as subtle and beautiful. All I know how to do is scream.”
    Alice Oseman, Radio Silence

  • #4
    Stephen Chbosky
    “We Are All Infinite”
    Stephen Chobosky

  • #5
    Alice Oseman
    “Everyone's different inside their head.”
    Alice Oseman, Radio Silence

  • #6
    Shannon Messenger
    “And keep in mind,' Oralie added, finally turning her azure eyes toward Sophie, ' true trust does not require absolute transparency. There is incredible power in accepting that there are some things you cannot know--and being willing to maintain your commitment to that person despite the secrets.”
    Shannon Messenger, Legacy

  • #7
    Donna Tartt
    “Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”
    Donna Tartt, The Secret History

  • #8
    Donna Tartt
    “Does such a thing as 'the fatal flaw,' that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.”
    Donna Tartt, The Secret History

  • #9
    Elodie Harper
    “Either we choose to stay alive, or we give up. And if it's living we choose, then we do whatever it takes.”
    Elodie Harper, The Wolf Den

  • #10
    Elodie Harper
    “She runs through the repertoire, the line between fear and anger stretched taut across her heart.”
    Elodie Harper, The Wolf Den

  • #11
    Elodie Harper
    “Her anger is rising like the sea, drowning her.”
    Elodie Harper, The Wolf Den

  • #12
    Elodie Harper
    “Suns when they sink can rise again,”
    Elodie Harper, The Wolf Den

  • #13
    Elodie Harper
    “And it's not brave. It's stupid. Have you seen the bruises on her? Who fights a battle they're never going to win?"

    "That's what courage means.”
    Elodie Harper, The Wolf Den

  • #14
    Elodie Harper
    “Fit to fuck an emperor,” the hairdresser says when she’s finished. “If you’ll pardon the expression.”
    Elodie Harper, The Wolf Den

  • #15
    Dina  S.
    “Do you believe in soulmates? I don't - I don't want to believe. Because if I let myself believe, that would mean I met mine. If I believed in soulmates, it would also mean that I lost mine forever.”
    Dina S.

  • #16
    We accept the love we think we deserve.
    “We accept the love we think we deserve.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

  • #17
    Stephen Chbosky
    “And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

  • #18
    Stephen Chbosky
    “I would die for you. But I won't live for you.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

  • #19
    Stephen Chbosky
    “Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
    he wrote a poem
    And he called it "Chops"
    because that was the name of his dog

    And that's what it was all about
    And his teacher gave him an A
    and a gold star
    And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
    and read it to his aunts
    That was the year Father Tracy
    took all the kids to the zoo

    And he let them sing on the bus
    And his little sister was born
    with tiny toenails and no hair
    And his mother and father kissed a lot
    And the girl around the corner sent him a
    Valentine signed with a row of X's

    and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
    And his father always tucked him in bed at night
    And was always there to do it

    Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
    he wrote a poem
    And he called it "Autumn"

    because that was the name of the season
    And that's what it was all about
    And his teacher gave him an A
    and asked him to write more clearly
    And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
    because of its new paint

    And the kids told him
    that Father Tracy smoked cigars
    And left butts on the pews
    And sometimes they would burn holes
    That was the year his sister got glasses
    with thick lenses and black frames
    And the girl around the corner laughed

    when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
    And the kids told him why
    his mother and father kissed a lot
    And his father never tucked him in bed at night
    And his father got mad
    when he cried for him to do it.


    Once on a paper torn from his notebook
    he wrote a poem
    And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
    because that was the question about his girl
    And that's what it was all about
    And his professor gave him an A

    and a strange steady look
    And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
    because he never showed her
    That was the year that Father Tracy died
    And he forgot how the end
    of the Apostle's Creed went

    And he caught his sister
    making out on the back porch
    And his mother and father never kissed
    or even talked
    And the girl around the corner
    wore too much makeup
    That made him cough when he kissed her

    but he kissed her anyway
    because that was the thing to do
    And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
    his father snoring soundly

    That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
    he tried another poem

    And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
    Because that's what it was really all about
    And he gave himself an A
    and a slash on each damned wrist
    And he hung it on the bathroom door
    because this time he didn't think

    he could reach the kitchen.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

  • #20
    Stephen Chbosky
    “I am very interested and fascinated how everyone loves each other, but no one really likes each other.”
    Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
    tags: moi

  • #21
    Cassandra Clare
    “Isabelle looked dubious. "Mom and Dad won't be pleased if they find out."
    "That you freed a possible criminal by trading away your brother to a warlock who looks like a gay Sonic the Hedgehog and dresses like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Band? Simon inquired. "No, probably not.”
    Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

  • #22
    Sylvia Plath
    “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar



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