Christine (AR) > Christine (AR)'s Quotes

Showing 1-15 of 15
sort by

  • #1
    Sherman Alexie
    “If you're good at it, and you love it, and it helps you navigate the river of the world, then it can't be wrong.”
    Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

  • #2
    J.K. Rowling
    “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
    J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

  • #3
    Theodore Roosevelt
    “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
    Theodore Roosevelt

  • #4
    Nancy Thayer
    “It's never too late - in fiction or in life - to revise.”
    Nancy Thayer

  • #5
    Oriah Mountain Dreamer
    “It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
    It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
    It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.
    I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.
    It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithlessand therefore trustworthy.
    I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence.
    I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”
    It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.
    It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
    It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away.
    I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”
    Oriah Mountain Dreamer

  • #6
    Michael Chabon
    “The problem, if anything, was precisely the opposite. I had too much to write:

    too many fine and miserable buildings to construct and streets to name and clock towers to set chiming,

    too many characters to raise up from the dirt like flowers whose petals I peeled down to the intricate frail organs within,

    too many terrible genetic and fiduciary secrets to dig up and bury and dig up again,

    too many divorces to grant,

    heirs to disinherit,

    trysts to arrange,

    letters to misdirect into evil hands,

    innocent children to slay with rheumatic fever,

    women to leave unfulfilled and hopeless,

    men to drive to adultery and theft,

    fires to ignite at the hearts of ancient houses. ”
    Michael Chabon, Wonder Boys

  • #7
    Neil Gaiman
    “Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.”
    Neil Gaiman, Coraline

  • #8
    Toni Morrison
    “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”
    Toni Morrison

  • #10
    Lois McMaster Bujold
    “This is important! But you have to stay absolutely cool. I may be completely off-base, and panicking prematurely."
    "I don't think so. I think you're panicking post-maturely. In fact, if you were panicking any later it would be practically posthumously. I've been panicking for days.”
    Lois McMaster Bujold, Miles, Mystery, and Mayhem

  • #11
    Henry Beston
    “The world to-day is sick to its thin blood for lack of elemental things, for fire before the hands, for water welling from the earth, for air, for the dear earth itself underfoot. In my world of beach and dunes these elemental presences lived and had their being, and under their arch there moved an incomparable pageant of nature and the year.”
    Henry Beston, The Outermost House: A Year of Life On The Great Beach of Cape Cod

  • #12
    “First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

    May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

    When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

    Guide her, protect her

    When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

    Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.

    What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

    May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

    Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

    O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

    And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

    And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

    “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.”
    Tina Fey, Bossypants

  • #13
    David Nicholls
    “She drinks pints of coffee and writes little observations and ideas for stories with her best fountain pen on the linen-white pages of expensive notebooks. Sometimes, when it's going badly, she wonders if what she believes to be a love of the written word is really just a fetish for stationery.”
    David Nicholls, One Day

  • #14
    “Most photographers have some kind of verbal patter going on when they shoot: "Great. Turn to me. Big smile. Less shark eyes. Have fun with it. Not like that." Some photographers are compulsively effusive. "Beautiful. Amazing. Gorgeous! Ugh, so gorgeous!" they yell at shutter speed. If you are anything less than insane, you will realize this is not sincere. It's hard to take because it's more positive feedback than you've received in your entire life thrown at you in fifteen seconds. It would be like going jogging while someone rode next to you in a slow-moving car, yelling, "Yes! You are Carl Lewis! You're breaking a world record right now. Amazing! You are fast. You're going very fast, yes!”
    Tina Fey, Bossypants
    tags: humor

  • #15
    Leo Tolstoy
    “Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.”
    Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

  • #16
    W.S. Merwin
    “with the night falling we are saying thank you
    we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings
    we are running out of the glass rooms
    with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
    and say thank you
    we are standing by the water looking out
    in different directions

    back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
    after funerals we are saying thank you
    after the news of the dead
    whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
    in a culture up to its chin in shame
    living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you

    over telephones we are saying thank you
    in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
    remembering wars and the police at the back door
    and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
    in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
    with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
    unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

    with the animals dying around us
    our lost feelings we are saying thank you
    with the forests falling faster than the minutes
    of our lives we are saying thank you
    with the words going out like cells of a brain
    with the cities growing over us like the earth
    we are saying thank you faster and faster
    with nobody listening we are saying thank you
    we are saying thank you and waving
    dark though it is”
    W.S. Merwin



Rss