Christy Carlyle > Christy's Quotes

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  • #1
    Pearl S. Buck
    “Many people lose the small joys in the hope for the big happiness.”
    Pearl S. Buck

  • #2
    Epictetus
    “If you wish to be a writer, write.”
    Epictetus

  • #3
    Percy Bysshe Shelley
    “The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?”
    Percy Bysshe Shelley

  • #4
    J.B. Priestley
    “I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.”
    J.B. Priestley

  • #5
    Ray Bradbury
    “...if you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one ear peeled for the avant-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself. You don't even know yourself. For the first thing a writer should be is-- excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms.”
    Ray Bradbury

  • #6
    L.M. Montgomery
    “Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
    L.M. Montgomery

  • #7
    Christy Carlyle
    “The man’s hands had a terrible unsettling power over her. He didn’t brush or lightly graze her skin. He stroked her, caressed her, as if he wished to give her pleasure rather than take his own.”
    Christy Carlyle, One Tempting Proposal

  • #8
    Rainer Maria Rilke
    “We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.”
    Rainer Maria Rilke, Translations from the Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke

  • #9
    Christy Carlyle
    “He was the sort of man she would have noticed in a crowd, even if she hadn't been seeking him, intent on causing him scandal and taking unimaginable liberties with his person.”
    Christy Carlyle, One Scandalous Kiss

  • #10
    Emily Brontë
    “He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.”
    Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights



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