Lovely Quotes - Page 25

• She touched the edge of its voluptuous field, knowing it would be lovely beyond dreams simply to submit to it; that not gravity's pull, laws of ballistics, feral ravening, promised more delight. She tested it, shivering: I am meant to remember. Each clue that comes is supposed to have its own clarity, its fine chances for permanence. But then she wondered if the gemlike "clues" were only some kind of compensation. To make up for her having lost the direct, epileptic Word, the cry that might abolish the night.

  Thomas Pynchon

  Dream, Night, Law

  Thomas Pynchon (2012). “The Crying of Lot 49”, p.55, Penguin

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• She stepped out from among their shifting confusion of lovely lights and shadows. A circle of grass, smooth as a lawn, met her eyes, with dark trees dancing all around it. And then --Oh Joy! For he was there: the huge Lion, shining white in the moonlight, with his huge black shadow underneath him.

  C. S. Lewis

  Eye, Dark, Light

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• In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted. Only artistic excellence is incorruptible. Pleasure cannot be bargained down. And sometimes the meal is the only currency that is real.

  Elizabeth Gilbert

  Art, Real, Excellence

  Elizabeth Gilbert (2010). “The Complete Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat, Pray, Love; Committed; The Last American Man; Stern Men & Pilgrims”, p.112, A&C Black

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• Second-hand gloves will become lovely again, their memories are what give them the need for other hands. And the desolation of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness carved out of such tiny beings as we are asks to be filled; the need for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

  Galway Kinnell

  Memories, Love Is, Hands

  Galway Kinnell (2001). “A New Selected Poems”, p.95, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• How clear, how lovely bright, How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free, Up from the eastern sea Soars the delightful day. To-day I shall be strong, No more shall yield to wrong, Shall squander life no more; Days lost, I know not how, I shall retrieve them now; Now I shall keep the vow I never kept before. Ensanguining the skies How heavily it dies Into the west away; Past touch and sight and sound Not further to be found, How hopeless under ground Falls the remorseful day.

  A. E. Housman

  Beautiful, Strong, Morning

  A. E. Housman (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of A. E. Housman (Illustrated)”, Delphi Classics

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• And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.

  William C. Bryant

  Sympathy, Grief, Should Have

  William Cullen Bryant, “The Death Of The Flowers”

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• You've such a lovely temperature.

  Ernest Hemingway

  Temperature

  Ernest Hemingway (2014). “Farewell to Arms: The Hemingway Library Edition”, p.114, Simon and Schuster

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• The language of love letters is the same as suicide notes.

  Courtney Love

  Suicide, Language Of Love, Letters

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• We have made men proud of most vices, but not of cowardice. Whenever we have almost succeeded in doing so, God permits a war or an earthquake or some other calamity, and at once courage becomes so obviously lovely and important even in human eyes that all our work is undone, and there is still at least one vice of which they feel genuine shame. The danger of inducing cowardice in our patients, therefore, is lest we produce real self-knowledge and self-loathing, with consequent repentance and humility.

  C. S. Lewis

  Real, War, Humility

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• After perhaps thirty meters, just as a soldier turned around, the girl was felled. Hands were clamped upon her from behind and the boy next door brought her down. He forced her knees to the road and suffered the penalty. He collected her punches as if they were presents. Her bony hands and elbows were accepted with nothing but a few short moans. He accumulated the loud, clumsy specks of saliva and tears as if they were lovely to his face, and more important, he was able to hold her down.

  Markus Zusak

  Girl, Boys, Doors

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• I've begun worshipping the sun for a number of reasons. First of all, unlike some other gods I could mention, I can see the sun. It's there for me every day. And the things it brings me are quite apparent all the time: heat, light, food, and a lovely day. There's no mystery, no one asks for money, I don't have to dress up, and there's no boring pageantry. And interestingly enough, I have found that the prayers I offer to the sun and the prayers I formerly offered to "God" are all answered at about the same 50% rate.

  George Carlin

  Funny, Prayer, Numbers

  George Carlin (2007). “The Best of Brain Droppings”, p.28, Peter Pauper Press, Inc.

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• ... an ugly, lovely town ... crawling, sprawling ... by the side of a long and splendid curving shore. This sea-town was my world.

  Dylan Thomas

  Sea, Long, World

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• There was some women in a café the other week that I was sat in, and she came up and she sat down with her mate and she was talkin' loudly goin' on about "oh the baby's lovely." They said it's got, er, lovely big eyes, er, really big hands and feet. Now that doesn't sound like a nice baby to me. I felt like sayin' it sounds like a frog. But I thought I don't know her, there's only so much you can say to a stranger. I don't know what kept me from sayin' it.

  Karl Pilkington

  Baby, Nice, Eye

  "The Podfather Trilogy", Episode 1: Halloween, 2006.

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• There is not much talking now. A silence falls upon them all. This is no time to talk of hedges and fields, or the beauties of any country. Sadness and fear and hate, how they well up in the heart and mind, whenever one opens pages of these messengers of doom. Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved. Cry, the beloved country, these things are not yet at an end. The sun pours down on the earth, on the lovely land that man cannot enjoy. He knows only the fear of his heart.

  Alan Paton

  Country, Children, Hate

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• When I remember that dizzy summer, that dull, stupid, lovely, dire summer, it seems that in those days I ate my lunches, smelled another's skin, noticed a shade of yellow, even simply sat, with greater lust and hopefulness - and that I lusted with greater faith, hoped with greater abandon. The people I loved were celebrities, surrounded by rumor and fanfare; the places I sat with them, movie lots and monuments. No doubt all of this is not true remembrance but the ruinous work of nostalgia, which obliterates the past, and no doubt, as usual, I have exaggerated everything.

  Michael Chabon

  Summer, Stupid, Past

  "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh". Book by Michael Chabon, 1988.

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• Her thoughts ran away to her girlhood with its passionate longing for adventure and she remembered the arms of men that had held her when adventure was a possible thing for her. Particularly she remembered one who had for a time been her lover and who in the moment of his passion had cried out to her more than a hundred times, saying the same words madly over and over: "You dear! You dear! You lovely dear!" The words, she thought, expressed something she would have liked to have achieved in life.

  Sherwood Anderson

  Passion, Adventure, Men

  Sherwood Anderson (2015). “Winesburg, Ohio”, p.181, Sheba Blake Publishing

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• It'll be just lovely for you to play -- it'll be so hard. And there's so much more fun when it is hard!

  Eleanor Porter

  Fun, Play, Hard

  Eleanor Porter (2003). “Pollyanna”, ePenguin

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• A lovely evening of new idioms and fresh mozzarella.

  Elizabeth Gilbert

  Mozzarella, Evening, Idiom

  Elizabeth Gilbert (2010). “The Complete Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat, Pray, Love; Committed; The Last American Man; Stern Men & Pilgrims”, p.10, A&C Black

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• Be you wise and never sad, You will get your lovely lad. Never serious be, nor true, And your wish will come to you-- And if that makes you happy, kid, You'll be the first it ever did.

  Dorothy Parker

  Wise, Kids, Happy Kid

  Dorothy Parker (1936). “Collected poems: Not so deep as a well”

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• This is our world. Aye, there's more than enough of darkness in it. But over everything there's all this joy, Kit. There's all this lovely, lovely light.

  David Almond

  Our World, Light, Joy

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• It’s amazing how lovely common things become, if one only knows how to look at them.

  Louisa May Alcott

  Looks, Common, Know How

  Louisa May Alcott (2015). “The Complete Works of Louisa May Alcott (Illustrated): Novels, Short Stories, Plays & Poems: Little Women, Good Wives, Little Men, Jo's Boys, A Modern Mephistopheles, Eight Cousins, Rose in Bloom, Jack and Jill, Behind a Mask, The Abbot's Ghost…”, p.4922, e-artnow

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• Lady, lady, never start Conversation toward your heart; Keep your pretty words serene; Never murmur what you mean. Show yourself, by word and look, Swift and shallow as a brook. Be as cool and quick to go As a drop of April snow; Be as delicate and gay As a cherry flower in May. Lady, lady, never speak Of the tears that burn your cheek- She will never win him, whose Words had shown she feared to lose. Be you wise and never sad, You will get your lovely lad. Never serious be, nor true, And your wish will come to you- And if that makes you happy, kid, You'll be the first it ever did.

  Dorothy Parker

  Wise, Flower, Heart

  Dorothy Parker, “The Lady's Reward”

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• So began their love, the boy happy and amazed, she happy and not surprised at all (nothing happens by chance to girls). It was the love so long awaited by Cosimo and which had now inexplicably arrived, and so lovely that he could not imagine how he had even thought it lovely before. And the thing newest to him was that it was so simple, and the boy at that moment thought it must be like that always.

  Italo Calvino

  Girl, Boys, Simple

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• The primitive in each of us climbs closer to the surface during the night, for the moon sings to it, and the cold void between the stars speaks its language. To that savage self, evil can look lovely in too little light.

  Dean Koontz

  Stars, Moon, Night

  Dean Koontz (2007). “False Memory”, p.136, Bantam

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• Our heroine knew that the mother would always leave the window open for her children to fly back by; so they stayed away for years and had a lovely time.

  James M. Barrie

  Mother, Children, Years

  James M. Barrie (2015). “Peter Pan: Top 100 Classic Novels”, p.86, 谷月社

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