martifo > martifo's Quotes

“I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! -- When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“Parla ora prima che sia troppo tardi, e poi spera di continuare a parlare finché non ci sarà niente da dire. Dopotutto, il tempo sta esaurendo. Forse è meglio mettere da parte le tue storie per ora e provare ad analizzare come sia stato vivere in questo corpo dal primo giorno in cui ricordi di essere stato vivo fino a oggi.”
― Paul Auster, Winter Journal

“A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.”
― Italo Calvino, The Uses of Literature

“Pensi che a te non succederà mai, che non ti può succedere, che sei l'unica persona al mondo in cui queste cose non succederanno mai e poi, a una a una, cominciano a succederti tutte, esattamente come succedono a tutti gli altri.”
― Paul Auster, Winter Journal

“How the alternative reduces one's prospect and petrifies the imagination in a way that the possibility can never do. Possibilities, innumerable and tightly packed, could shower forth like mushroom spore between such alternatives as being here, or there; alive, or dead; and old, or young.”
― Elizabeth Jane Howard, The Long View

“Procrastination is the thief of time, collar him.”
― Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

“Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I'm made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.”
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

“I'm saying you'll never know if you made the wrong choice or not. You would need to have all the facts before you knew, and the only way to get all the facts is to be in two places at the same time--which is impossible.”
― Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1

“An unreal world was much bigger than a real world, and there was more than enough room in it to be yourself and not yourself at the same time.”
― Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1

“People who shut their eyes to reality simply invite their own destruction, and anyone who insists on remaining in a state on innocence long after that innocence is dead turns himself into a monster.”
― James Baldwin

“Freedom is not something that anybody can be given. Freedom is something people take, and people are as free as they want to be”
― James Baldwin

“If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.”
― Cicero

“She was about twenty-four, Rosemary guessed - her face could have been described in terms of conventional prettiness, but the effect was that it had been made first on the heroic scale with strong structure and marking, as if the features and vividness of brow and coloring, everything we associate with temperament and character had been molded with a Rodinesque intention, and then chiseled away in the direction of prettiness to a point where a single slip would have irreparably diminished its force and quality. With the mouth the sculptor had taken desperate chances - it was the cupid's bow of a magazine cover, yet it shared the distinction of the rest.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

“Books are the mirrors of the soul.”
― Virginia Woolf, Between the Acts

“Your story is what you have, what you will always have. It is something to own.”
― Michelle Obama, Becoming

“The voice fell low, sank into her breast and stretched the tight bodice over her heart as she came up close. He felt the young lips, her body sighing in relief against the arm growing stronger to hold her. There were now no more plans than if Dick had arbitrarily made some indissoluble mixture, with atoms joined and inseparable; you could throw it all out but never again could they fit back into atomic scale. As he held her and tasted her, and as she curved in further and further toward him, with her own lips, new to herself, drowned and engulfed in love, yet solaced and triumphant, he was thankful to have an existence at all, if only as a reflection in her wet eyes.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

“They were still in the happier stage of love. They were full of brave illusions about each other, tremendous illusions, so that the communion of self with self seemed to be on a plane where no other human relations mattered. They both seemed to have arrived there with an extraordinary innocence as though a series of pure accidents had driven them together, so many accidents that at last they were forced to conclude that they were for each other. They had arrived with clean hands, or so it seemed, after no traffic with the merely curious and clandestine.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or of the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it.”
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!”
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“Quella vita ch'è una cosa bella, non è la vita che si conosce, ma quella che non si conosce; non la vita passata, ma la futura. Coll'anno nuovo, il caso incomincerà a trattar bene voi e me e tutti gli altri, e si principierà la vita felice. Non è vero?”
― Leopardi, Operette morali

“Every life is in many days, day after day. We walk through ourselves, meeting robbers, ghosts, giants, old men, young men, wives, widows, brothers-in-love, but always meeting ourselves.”
― James Joyce, Ulysses

“I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.”
― James Joyce

“Only by the jostlings of equality can we form a just opinion of ourselves.”
― Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

“Would men but generously snap our chains, and be content with rational fellowship instead of slavish obedience, they would find us more observant daughters, more affectionate sisters, more faithful wives, more reasonable mothers - in a word, better citizens”
― Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

“Anything was possible, and just because things happened in one way didn't mean they couldn' t happen in another.”
― Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1

“My own sex, I hope, will excuse me, if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering their fascinating graces, and viewing them as if they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone. I earnestly wish to point out in what true dignity and human happiness consists - I wish to persuade women to endeavour to acquire strength, both mind and body, and to convince them that the soft phrases, susceptibility of heart, delicacy of sentiment, and refinement of taste, are almost synonymous with epithets of weakness, and that those beings who are only objects of pity and that kind of love, which has been termed its sister, will soon become objects of contempt.”
― Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman

“I think our job--maybe even our 'duty'--is to--To bear the burden of the mystery with as much grace as we can.”
― Elizabeth Strout, Olive, Again

“The Tuesday scowls, the Wednesday growls, the Thursday curses, the Friday howls, the Saturday snores, the Sunday yawns, the Monday morns, the Monday morns. The whacks, the moans, the cracks, the groans, the welts, the squeaks, the belts, the shrieks, the pricks, the prayers, the kicks, the tears, the skelps, and the yelps.”
― Samuel Beckett, Watt