Kristin > Kristin's Quotes

“Knowledge forbidden?
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord
Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know?
Can it be death?”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams
That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“As the autumn deepens, the fathomless lakes of their eyes assume an ever more sorrowful hue. The leaves turn color, the grasses wither; the beasts sense the advance of a long, hungry season. And bowing to their vision, I too know a sadness.”
― Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World

“I want
To do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”
― Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair

“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity.”
― Edvard Munch

“Midtveges fram i gonga gjennom livet, eg fann meg att i tjukke svarte skogen, i vilska fór eg langt frå rette vegen.”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

“but what if God have seen,
And death ensue? then I shall be no more,
And Adam wedded to another Eve,
Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct;
A death to think. Confirmed then I resolve,
Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe:
So dear I love him, that with him all deaths
I could endure, without him live no life.”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“The calm, Cool face of the river, Asked me for a kiss”
― Langston Hughes

“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

“Deyr fé,
deyja frændr,
deyr sjálfr ið sama;
ek veit einn,
að aldri deyr:
dómr of dauðan hvern.”
― Hávamál - The sayings of the high one

“I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden or, Life in the Woods

“These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“This too shall pass.”
― Hakim Sanai

“A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passers-by only see a wisp of smoke”
― Vincent Van Gogh

“The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.

He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears.

'Why do you weep?' the goddesses asked.

'I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied.

'Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus,' they said, 'for though we always pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand.'

'But... was Narcissus beautiful?' the lake asked.

'Who better than you to know that?' the goddesses asked in wonder. 'After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!'

The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:

'I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.'

'What a lovely story,' the alchemist thought.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

“I don't like myself you know. I love myself. I'm devoted to myself till my dying day. But I don't like myself.”
― Anne Rice

“Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro' the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
'Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold–too cold for me-
There pass'd, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.”
― Edgar Allan Poe , The Complete Poetry

“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“What's past is prologue.”
― William Shakespeare, The Tempest

“Well, now
If little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you
Little by little
If suddenly you forget me
Do not look for me
For I shall already have forgotten you

If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life
And you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots
Remember
That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms
And my roots will set off to seek another land”
― Pablo Neruda, Selected Poems

“But he who dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose.”
― Anne Bronte

“She was like the moon—part of her was always hidden away.”
― Dia Reeves, Bleeding Violet

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.”
― Kobayashi Issa, Poems

“Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“Me miserable! Which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep,
Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
― Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

“Desse kroppane blei støypte mjukt
for å hindre

einsemd.”
― Ocean Vuong, Night Sky with Exit Wounds

“thus with a kiss I die”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“Jeg vet ei om den jeg priser
er død eller i live,
ofte hans blinkende økser
døyvde ørnens hunger;
folk sier begge deler
og sverger på det er sannhet.
Såret var han i hvert fall;
vondt er å vite mere.
Menn som kom fra kampen
sa at kongen levde;
de fører dunkel tale
om svikløs sønn til Tryggve.
Olav, sier de, slapp vel
ut av våpenstormen;
folk taler langt fra sannhet,
verre var det enn dette.

Hør det kvad jeg kveder.
Dengang kjempene søkte
mot den kraftige konge
kunne lagnaden ikke
slippe ham av striden,
den sølvrike herre,
elsket av mange. Annet
kan jeg ikke tro på.

Enda sier meg somme
menn at såret var han,
at kongen kom seg unna
fra kampen der i østen.
Men nå har jeg sannspurt sørfra,
han falt i storslaget.
Jeg kan ikke med å fylle
folk med løse rykter.”
― Snorri Sturluson, Olaf Tryggvessøns Saga