(Tessa) > (Tessa)'s Quotes

“Ever morning, until you dead in the ground, you gone have to make this decision. You gone have to ask yourself, "Am I gone believe what them fools say about me today?”
― Kathryn Stockett, The Help

“People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.”
― Stephen King, Carrie

“True sorrow is as rare as true love.”
― Stephen King, Carrie

“Jesus watches from the wall,
But his face is cold as stone,
And if he loves me
As she tells me
Why do I feel so all alone?”
― Stephen King, Carrie

“El pesar auténtico es tan escaso como el amor auténtico.”
― Stephen King, Carrie

“Quasi nessuno scopre mai che le sue azioni feriscono davvero gli altri. La gente non migliora, diventa solo più furba. Quando diventi più furbo, non smetti di strappare le ali alle mosche, cerchi solo di trovare dei motivi migliori per farlo.”
― Stephen King, Carrie

“I see many people die because they judge that life is not worth living. I see others paradoxically getting killed for the ideas or illusions that give them a reason for living (what is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying). I therefore conclude that the meaning of life is the most urgent of questions.”
― Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

“The books are to remind us what asses and fool we are. They're Caeser's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, "Remember, Caeser, thou art mortal." Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“Oh God, the terrible tyranny of the majority. We all have our harps to play. And it's up to you to know with which ear you'll listen.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn’t crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again, he would never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did, or tell us jokes the way he did. He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I’ve never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands? He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary. The public itself stopped reading of its own accord.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“The problem in our country isn't with books being banned, but with people no longer reading. You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.”
― Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

“Leggere un oggetto significa dimenticare un po' se stessi per fare posto al passato di un altro, mentre attraversare gli specchi significa affrontare se stessi. Ci vuole fegato per guardarsi negli occhi, vedersi per ciò che si è, immergersi nel proprio riflesso. Quelli che si mettono un velo davanti alla faccia, che mentono a se stessi e si vedono migliori di ciò che sono non ce la faranno mai. Credimi, non è cosa da tutti!”
― Christelle Dabos, Les Fiancés de l'hiver

“Quando gli ematomi si fossero riassorbiti e l'artigliata di Freya si fosse trasformata in cicatrice, Ofelia avrebbe rivisto il viso che conosceva. Lo sguardo però, non sarebbe più stato come prima. A forza di vedere illusioni aveva perso le proprie, e andava bene così. Quando le illusioni spariscono rimane solo la verità.”
― Christelle Dabos, Les Fiancés de l'hiver

“Probabilmente gli piaceva qualcosa di tremendo, come fare i dispetti alle mucche oppure i combattimenti tra coleotteri giapponesi.”
― Ali Hazelwood

“Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

“That was the great misconception about men: because they dealt with money, because they could hire someone on and later fire him, because they alone filled state assemblies and were elected congressional representatives, everyone thought they had power. Yet all the hiring and firing, the land deals and the lumber contracts, the complicated process for putting through a constitutional amendment-these were only bluster. They were blinds to disguise the fact of men's real powerlessness in life. Men controlled the legislatures, but when it came down to it, they didn't control themselves. Men had failed to study their own minds sufficiently, and because of this failure they were at the mercy of fleeting passions; men, much more than women, were moved by petty jealousies and the desire for petty revenges. Because they enjoyed their enormous but superficial power, men had never been forced to know themselves the way that women, in their adversity and superficial subservience, had been forced to learn about the workings of their brains and their emotions.”
― Michael McDowell, The Flood

“(A) society of disconnected individuals without responsibility for one another isn't a society at all.”
― Melissa McEwan

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”
― Albert Camus

“Oh God! To hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust !”
― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol