Four Quotes - Page 25

But truth be told, I'm not as dour-looking as I would like. I'm stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there's my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me 'Hon.

Sarah Vowell

Mother, Heart, Home

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I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it's hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while everyone else is frozen, I can work busily about them, doing whatever it is that needs to be done, like the elves who make the shoes while children sleep.

Dave Eggers

Life, Dream, Children

Dave Eggers (2014). “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius: Picador Classic”, p.11, Pan Macmillan

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Look," said Janet, irritated, "if the thing you liked best to do in the world was read, and somebody offered to pay you room and board and give you a liberal arts degree if you would just read for four years, wouldn't you do it?

Pamela Dean

Art, Years, Giving

Pamela Dean (2006). “Tam Lin”, p.17, Penguin

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Finally I went and found my hat and skewered it on my head with a four-inch hat pin. I wore the hat because I knew my mother never visited without one. The pin I thought would be a comfort in case of emergency.

Megan Whalen Turner

Mother, Comfort, Would Be

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No more photos. Surely there are enough. No more shadows of myself thrown by light onto pieces of paper, onto squares of plastic. No more of my eyes, mouths, noses, moods, bad angles. No more yawns, teeth, wrinkles. I suffer from my own multiplicity. Two or three images would have been enough, or four, or five. That would have allowed for a firm idea: This is she. As it is, I'm watery, I ripple, from moment to moment I dissolve into my other selves. Turn the page: you, looking, are newly confused. You know me too well to know me. Or not too well: too much.

Margaret Atwood

Confused, Eye, Ideas

Margaret Atwood (2007). “The Tent”, p.23, Anchor

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His name is Marcus: he is four and a half and possesses that deep gravity and seriousness that only small children and mountain gorillas have ever been able to master.

Neil Gaiman

Children, Names, Mountain

Neil Gaiman (2005). “Anansi Boys”

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Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Fall, Dark, Past

Edna St. Vincent Millay (2003). “Edna St. Vincent Millay: Selected Poems”, p.201, Library of America

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It drains the bars and cafes after hours, concentrates the wicked and the guilty along its chipped Formica counter, and thrums with the gossip of criminals, policemen, shtarkers,and schlemiels, whores and night owls ... three or four floaters, solitaries, and drunks between benders lean against the sparkly resin counter, sucking the tea from their shtekelehs and working the calulations of their next big mistake.

Michael Chabon

Mistake, Night, Gossip

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An average of seventy-four species become extinct every day, which was one good reason but not the only one to hold someone's hand.

Nicole Krauss

Average, Hands, Reason

Nicole Krauss (2006). “The History of Love: A Novel”, p.202, W. W. Norton & Company

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Maycomb was a tired old town, even in 1932 when I first knew it. Somehow, it was hotter then. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon after their three o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frosting from sweating and sweet talcum. The day was twenty-four hours long, but it seemed longer. There's no hurry, for there's nowhere to go and nothing to buy... and no money to buy it with.

Harper Lee

Sweet, Morning, Tired

"Fictional character: Older Scout". To Kill a Mockingbird, www.imdb.com. 1962.

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The four rules of writing... 1. Write to discover. 2. There is no greater discovery than love. 3. All love comes from the Creator. 4. Write what you will.

Ted Dekker

Writing, Discovery, Creator

Ted Dekker (2006). “Showdown”, p.17, Thomas Nelson Inc

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When evening comes, I return home and go into my study. On the threshold I strip off my muddy, sweaty clothes of everyday, and put on the robes of court and palace, and in this graver dress I enter the antique courts of the ancients and am welcomed by them, and there I taste the food that alone is mine, and for which I was born. And there I make bold to speak to them and ask the motives of their actions, and they, in their humanity, reply to me. And for the space of four hours I forget the world, remember no vexation, fear poverty no more, tremble no more at death; I pass indeed into their world.

Niccolo Machiavelli

Home, Clothes, Space

"The Prince". Political treatise by Niccolo Machiavelli, 1532.

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I think the most significant work we'll do in our whole life, in our whole world is done within the four walls of our home.

Stephen Covey

Wall, Home, Thinking

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...when the little boy discovered, at four, the same thing Mr. Smith had learned earlier -- that only birds and planes could fly -- he lost all interest in himself.

Toni Morrison

Boys, Bird, Littles

Toni Morrison (1987). “Sula”

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As long as you have any floor space at all, you have room for books! Just make two stacks of books the same height, place them three or four feet apart, lay a board across them, and repeat. Viola! Bookshelves!

Jan Karon

Book, Two, Feet

Jan Karon (1998). “Out to Canaan”, p.187, Penguin

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You are a slow learner, Winston." "How can I help it? How can I help but see what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four." "Sometimes, Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane.

George Orwell

Eye, Two, Trying

George Orwell (2001). “The Complete Novels of George Orwell: Animal Farm, Burmese Days, A Clergyman's Daughter, Coming Up for Air, Keep the Aspidistra Flying, Nineteen Eighty-Four”, p.1346, Penguin UK

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Whoever reflects on four things I would be better if he were never born: that which is above, that which is below, that which is before, that which is after.

Umberto Eco

Would Be, Born, Ifs

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Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Running, Wall, Flower

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Professor Norman Page (2013). “Tennyson: Selected Poetry”, p.20, Routledge

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Four will Become Two, Lion and Tiger will Meet in Battle, and Blood will Rule the Forest.

Erin Hunter

Cat, Blood, Two

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I once jokingly told someone that every book is like a relationship. They're four or five years long - that's not so bad. They're serious. They demand a lot of attention. But I remember thinking that I wanted to have one with someone who's not so crazy and peculiar and demanding.

A.M. Homes

Crazy, Book, Thinking

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Since each story presents its own technical problems, obviously one can't generalize about them on a two-times-two-equals-four basis. Finding the right form for your story is simply to realize the most natural way of telling the story. The test of whether or not a writer has defined the natural shape of his story is just this: After reading it, can you imagine it differently, or does it silence your imagination and seem to you absolute and final? As an orange is final. As an orange is something nature has made just right.

Truman Capote

Reading, Two, Orange

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Upon four-legged forest clouds the cowboy angel rides

Bob Dylan

Angel, Cowboy, Clouds

Song: Gates of Eden, Album: Bringing It All Back Home, 1965

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I have my own set of survival techniques. I am patient. I know how to pack light. But my one might travel talent is that I can make friends with anybody. I can make friends with the dead. If there isn’t anyone else around to talk to, I could probably make friends with a four-foot-tall pile of sheetrock. That is why I’m not afraid to travel to the most remote places in the world, not if there are human beings there to meet. People asked me before I left, “do you have friends [there]?’ and I would just shake my head no, thinking to myself, But I will.

Elizabeth Gilbert

Thinking, Light, Feet

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Cats are cats . . . the world over! These intelligent, peace-loving, four-footed friends- who are without prejudice, without hate, without greed- may someday teach us something. -James Mackintosh Qwilleran

Lilian Jackson Braun

Hate, Cat, Intelligent

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You must therefore zealously guard in his mind the curious assumption 'My time is my own'. Let him have the feeling that he starts each day as the lawful possessor of twenty-four hours. Let him feel as a grievous tax that portion of this property which he has to make over to him employers, and as a generous donation that further portion which h allows to religious duties. But what he must never be permitted to doubt is that the total from which these deductions have been made was, in some mysterious sense, his own personal birthright.

C. S. Lewis

Religious, Feelings, Doubt

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