Knows Quotes - Page 13

• Easy to see that naught save sorrow could bring a man to such a view of things. And yet a sorrow for which there can be no help is no sorrow. It is some dark sister traveling in sorrow's clothing. Men do not turn from God so easily you see. Not so easily. Deep in each man is the knowledge that something knows of his existence. Something knows, and cannot be fled nor hid from. To imagine otherwise is to imagine the unspeakable. It was never that this man ceased to believe in God. No. It was rather that he came to believe terrible things of Him.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Believe, Dark, Men

  Cormac McCarthy (2013). “The Border Trilogy”, p.424, Pan Macmillan

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• I'm stuck struggling in the cold water, and all I can do is grieve, grieve, in the hoar necessitous horror of the morning, bitterly I hate myself, bitterly it's too late yet while I feel better I still feel ephemeral and unreal and unable to straighten my thoughts or even really grieve, in fact I feel too stupid to be really bitter, in short I don't know what I'm doing and I'm being told what to do.

  Jack Kerouac

  Morning, Hate, Stupid

  Jack Kerouac (2012). “Desolation Angels”, p.18, Penguin UK

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• I'm right there, swimming the river of hardships but I know how to swim.

  Jack Kerouac

  Swimming, Rivers, Hardship

  Jack Kerouac (1995). “The Portable Jack Kerouac”, Viking Adult

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• A weapon based on Time . . ." mused Viktor Mulciber. "Well, why not? The one force no one knows how to defeat, resist, or reverse. It kills all forms of life sooner or later. With a Time-weapon you could become the most feared person in history." "I'd rather be loved," said Root. Mulciber shrugged. "You're young.

  Thomas Pynchon

  Roots, Why Not, Weapons

  Thomas Pynchon (2012). “Against the Day”, p.658, Penguin

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• But love wasn't about sacrifice, and it wasn't about falling short of someone's expectations. By definition, love made you better than good enough; it redefined perfection to include your traits, instead of excluding them. All any of us wanted, really, was to know that we counted. That someone else's life would not have been as rich without us here.

  Jodi Picoult

  Fall, Sacrifice, Expectations

  Jodi Picoult (2009). “Handle with Care: A Novel”, p.457, Simon and Schuster

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• You know," Clary said, "most psychologists agree that hostility is really just sublimated sexual attraction.

  Cassandra Clare

  Psychologist, Said, Fray

  Cassandra Clare (2012). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instruments Series (5 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass; City of Fallen Angels, City of Lost Souls”, p.317, Simon and Schuster

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• When you are alone, you have all the time in the world to practice whistling like a bird. When there is no one in the world you can turn to, a horse or .even a lion may give you companionship. When you don't know if there is anyone in the world like you, you seek contact with something living however you can

  Jean M. Auel

  Horse, Practice, Giving

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• I am not agnostic. I am atheist. I don’t think there is no God; I know there’s no God. I know there’s no God the same way I know many other laws in our universe. I know there’s no God and I know most of the world knows that as well. They just won’t admit it because there’s another thing they know. They know they’re going to die and it freaks them out. So most people don’t have the courage to admit there’s no God and they know it. They feel it. They try to suppress it. And if you bring it up they get angry because it freaks them out.

  Adam Carolla

  Atheist, Thinking, Law

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• For a while they stood there, like men on the edge of a sleep where nightmare lurks, holding it off, though they know that they can only come to morning through the shadows.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Morning, Sleep, Men

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Two Towers: Being the Second Part of The Lord of the Rings”, p.617, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• You know what happens when windmills collapse into the sea? A splash.

  Bill Maher

  Sea, Environmental, Windmills

  "Gulf oil spill: A hole in the world" by Naomi Klein, www.theguardian.com. June 18, 2010.

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• What's madness but nobility of soul At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire! I know the purity of pure despair, My shadow pinned against a sweating wall, That place among the rocks--is it a cave, Or winding path? The edge is what I have........ ....... Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. ~From "The Waking" by Theodore Roethke

  Theodore Roethke

  Summer, Wall, Dark

  Theodore Roethke, “In A Dark Time”

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• Know what we did, Lucy? You and me? We spent our whole lives yearning. Isn't that the God damndest thing?

  Richard Yates

  Yearning, Whole Life, Lucy

  Richard Yates (2010). “Young Hearts Crying”, p.154, Random House

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• Go where the pleasure is in your writing. Go where the pain is. Write the book you would like to read. Write the book you have been trying to find but have not found. But write. And remember, there are no rules for our profession. Ignore rules. Ignore what I say here if it doesn't help you. Do it your own way. Every writer knows fear and discouragement. Just write.The world is crying for new writing. It is crying for fresh and original voices and new characters and new stories. If you won't write the classics of tomorrow, well, we will not have any.

  Anne Rice

  Pain, Book, Character

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• I can't understand how people can settle for having just one life. I remember we were in English class and we were talking about that poem by - that one guy. David Frost. 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood-' You know this poem, right? 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could, to where it bent in the undergrowth-" "I loved that poem. But I remember thinking to myself: Why? How come you can't travel both? That seemed really unfair to me.

  Dan Chaon

  Sorry, Thinking, Two

  Dan Chaon (2009). “Await Your Reply: A Novel”, p.100, Ballantine Books

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• I really cannot understand the point of what you're saying. Really,' said Clotilde, looking at her. 'What a very extraordinary person you are. What sort of a woman are you? Why are you talking like this? Who are you?' Miss Marple pulled down the mass of pink wool that encircled her head, a pink wool scarf of the same kind that she had once worn in the West Indies. 'One of my names,' she said, 'is Nemesis.' 'Nemesis? And what does that mean?' 'I think you know,' said Miss Marple. 'You are a very well educated woman. Nemesis is long delayed sometimes, but it comes in the end.

  Agatha Christie

  Mean, Thinking, West Indies

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• Anya jumped in front of the man, acting as his shield. “Now, Sabin. He didn’t mean any harm. He’s borderline stupid. You know that.

  Gena Showalter

  Stupid, Mean, Men

  Gena Showalter (2016). “The Darkest Whisper”, p.95, HQN Books

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• After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?

  Kim Edwards

  Years, Might, Feels

  Kim Edwards (2006). “The Memory Keeper's Daughter: A Novel”, p.216, Penguin

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• The thing is, I used to like that: feeling special because I knew something no one else did. It's a kind of power, isn't it, knowing a secret? But lately I don't like it so much, knowing this. It's not really mine to know, is it?

  Kim Edwards

  Father, Knowing, Feelings

  Kim Edwards (2006). “The Memory Keeper's Daughter: A Novel”, p.294, Penguin

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• "I thought this was a cookout. You know, dogs and burgers, Tater Tots, ambrosia salad" Dexter picked up a box of Twinkies, tossing them into the cart. "And Twinkies." "It is... Except that it's a cookout thrown by my mother." "And?" "And my mother doesn't cook." He looked at me waiting. "At all. My mother doesn't cook at all." "She must cook sometimes." "Nope." "Everyone can make scrambled eggs, Remy. It's programmed into you at birth, the default setting. Like being able to swim and knowing not to mix pickles with oatmeal. You just KNOW."

  Sarah Dessen

  Mother, Dog, Oatmeal

  "This Lullaby". Book by Sarah Dessen, May 27, 2002.

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• Ethan and I are done," I said finally. "I'm sorry." "He was my first boyfriend." "I know." "The only real boyfriend I've had. I'm a senior in high school and he was my only real boyfriend." "I know." "And I won't find another one at Jones Hall. That is guaranteed." "Okay." "This is all very sad and tragic," I said. Alan unwrapped a sleeve of Smarties. "Yet, oddly, you don't seem that upset." "I know.

  Sara Zarr

  Senior, Sorry, Real

  Sara Zarr (2008). “Sweethearts”, p.148, Hachette UK

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• When they came to harvest my corpse (open your mouth, close your eyes) cut my body from the rope, surprise, surprise: I was still alive. Tough luck, folks, I know the law: you can't execute me twice for the same thing. How nice. I fell to the clover, breathed it in, and bared my teeth at them in a filthy grin. You can imagine how that went over. Now I only need to look out at them through my sky-blue eyes. They see their own ill will staring then in the forehead and turn tail Before, I was not a witch. But now I am one.

  Margaret Atwood

  Nice, Eye, Cutting

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• Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night, Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents, through narrow passes. But will he know where to find you, Recognize you when he sees you, Give you the thing he has for you?

  John Ashbery

  Night, Giving, Desert

  John Ashbery (1985). “A Wave: Poems”, p.1, Ardent Media

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• I don't know. Sometimes, I feel nothing, and I'm so afraid. Afraid I'll stop feeling anything at all. I'll just slip away inside myself...I just need to feel something" A Great and Terrible Beauty, Page 177, by

  Libba Bray

  Feelings, Needs, Pages

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• There is only one place to write and that is alone at a typewriter. The writer who has to go into the streets is a writer who does not know the streets. . . when you leave your typewriter you leave your machine gun and the rats come pouring through.

  Charles Bukowski

  Writing, Gun, Typewriters

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• It's like, you know how sometimes you see a really sexy baby? Wait.

  David Levithan

  Sexy, Baby, Waiting

  John Green, David Levithan (2010). “Will Grayson, Will Grayson”, p.92, Penguin

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