Window Quotes - Page 23

• ...solitary like a pool at evening, far distant, seen from a train window, vanishing so quickly that the pool, pale in the evening, is scarcely robbed of its solitude, though once seen. *** Here sitting on the world, she thought, for she could not shake herself free from the sense that everything this morning was happening for the first time, perhaps for the last time, as a traveller, even though he is half asleep, knows, looking out of the train window, that he must look now, for he will never see that town, or that mule-cart, or that woman at work in the fields, again.

  Virginia Woolf

  Morning, Solitude, Looks

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• Shakespeare is just some bloke who keeps ranting "what light trough yonder window breaks" its the moon for god sakes!

  Louise Rennison

  Moon, Light, Sake

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• A story went the rounds about a San Franciscan white matron who refused to sit beside a Negro civilian on the streetcar, even after he made room for her on the seat. Her explanation was that she would not sit beside a draft dodger who was a Negro as well. She added that the least he could do was fight for his country the way her son was fighting on Iwo Jima. The story said that the man pulled his body away from the window to show an armless sleeve. He said quietly and with great dignity, "Then ask your son to look around for my arm, which I left over there.

  Maya Angelou

  Country, Fighting, Son

  Maya Angelou (2009). “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings”, p.210, Random House

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• I must spin good ghosts out of my hope to oppose the hordes at my window. If those who look in see me condescend to barricade the door, they will know too much and crowd in to overcome me.

  Elizabeth Smart

  Doors, Looks, Crowds

  Elizabeth Smart (1945). “By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept ; And, The Assumption of the Rogues & Rascals”, Vintage

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• Light streamed through one of the windows and across her face and I have never seen anything or anyone so beautiful in my life. If my heart had stopped at that moment I would have fallen happy and fallen full and I would have seen in life all that I had wanted to see and all that I needed to see. Fall. Let me fall.

  James Frey

  Beautiful, Fall, Heart

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• I knew something as I watched: almost everyone was saying goodbye to me. I was becoming one of the many little-girl-losts. They would go back to their homes and put me to rest, a letter from the past never to be reopened or reread. And I could say goodbye to them, wish them well, bless them somehow for their good thoughts. A handshake in the street, a dropped item picked up and retrieved and handed back, or a friendly wave from the distant window, a nod, a smile, a moment when the eyes lock over the antics of a child.

  Alice Sebold

  Girl, Goodbye, Children

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• Hale." Kat sighed. "The headmaster's car? Really? That's not to cliched for you?" What can I say?" He shrugged. "I'm an old-fashioned guy. Besides, it's a classic for a reason." He leaned against the window. "It's good to see you, Kat." Kat didn't know what to say. It's good to see you, too? Thanks for getting me kicked out? Is it possible you've gotten even hotter? I think I might have missed you?

  Ally Carter

  Thinking, Car, Guy

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• When I have run out of words to copy, I look out the window at this strange place called India. Inside the train, the people around me are snoring. I don't understand how they can close their eyes when there is so much to see.

  Patricia McCormick

  Running, Eye, Strange Places

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• At the enchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others -- poor young clerks who loitered in front of windows waiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner -- young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Loneliness, Twilight, Night

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.40, e-artnow

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• You took a walk on a Sunday afternoon and came to a nice neighborhood, very refined. You saw a small one of these trees through the iron gate leading to someone's yard and you knew that soon that section of Brooklyn would get to be a tenement district. The tree knew. It came there first. Afterwards, poor foreigners seeped in and the quiet old brownstone houses were hacked up into flats, feather beds were pushed out on the window sills to air and the Tree of Heaven flourished. That was the kind of tree it was. It liked poor people.

  Betty Smith

  Nice, Sunday, Air

  Betty Smith (2009). “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”, p.6, Harper Collins

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• Aw, fudge,' floated down to me, as a couple of golden eyes peered over a third-floor window ledge. 'You're a freaking dhampir. Why are you reading Tolkien?' I shrugged, then had to dodge the potted geranium he threw at me. 'After five hundred years, you've read just about everything. Besides, he had hella world-building skills.

  Karen Chance

  Couple, Reading, Eye

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• The drab brown front of the house made it look as if it had been built from rusty spare parts. Someone always put lace curtains in the windows of dreary houses, and Nick was unsurprised to see the curtains making their attempts in every window of this place. There was a china garden gnome on the doorstep, wearing a desperate, crazy smile. "It's not so bad," Alan said. "You never take me nice places anymore, baby." said Nick, and was mildly gratified by Alan's ring of laughter, like a living bell that had been caught by surprise when it was struck.

  Sarah Rees Brennan

  Baby, Laughter, Nice

  Sarah Rees Brennan (2010). “The Demon's Lexicon”, p.57, Simon and Schuster

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• Like you're riding a train at night across some vast plain, and you catch a glimpse of a tiny light in a window of a farmhouse. In an instant it's sucked back into the darkness behind and vanishes. But if you close your eyes, that point of light stays with you, just barely for a few moments.

  Haruki Murakami

  Eye, Night, Light

  FaceBook post by Haruki Murakami from Jan 19, 2016

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• I call it God Light, because it reminds me of heaven. Every time the light shines through the window we built or any window at all, you'll know I'm right there with you, okay? That's going to be me. I'll be the light in the window.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Light, Shining, Heaven

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• But I can hardly sit still. I keep fidgeting, crossing one leg and then the other. I feel like I could throw off sparks, or break a window--maybe rearrange all the furniture.

  Raymond Carver

  Worry, Anxiety, Legs

  Raymond Carver (2015). “Where I'm Calling From: Selected Stories”, p.405, Vintage

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• This soup tastes like windows

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez

  Soup, Taste

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• Pleasures First look from morning's window The rediscovered book Fascinated faces Snow, the change of the seasons The newspaper The dog Dialectics Showering, swimming Old music Comfortable shoes Comprehension New music Writing, planting Traveling Singing Being friendly

  Bertolt Brecht

  Dog, Morning, Book

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• It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness--and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark.

  Ayn Rand

  Pain, Moving, Sadness

  Ayn Rand (2005). “Atlas Shrugged”, p.17, Penguin

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• The word landed with a stony thud Onto my still-beating breast. Nevermind, I was prepared, I will manage with the rest. I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again. . . But how. The hot summer rustles Like a carnival outside my window; I have long had this premonition Of a bright day and a deserted house.

  Anna Akhmatova

  Summer, Memories, Long

  Anna Akhmatova, “Requiem”

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• At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and listen, You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun. And the trees in the Shadow rustle and the trees in the moonlight glisten, And though it is deep, dark night, you feel that the night is done.

  Rudyard Kipling

  Morning, Dark, Night

  Rudyard Kipling (2013). “Delphi Collected Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated)”, p.4987, Delphi Classics

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• Moon In the Window I wish I could say I was the kind of child who watched the moon from her window, would turn toward it and wonder. I never wondered. I read. Dark signs that crawled toward the edge of the page. It took me years to grow a heart from paper and glue. All I had was a flashlight, bright as the moon, a white hole blazing beneath the sheets.

  Dorianne Laux

  Children, Heart, Dark

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• The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep

  T. S. Eliot

  Fall, Night, Fog

  T.S. Eliot (2011). “The Complete Poems and Plays of T. S. Eliot”, p.7, Faber & Faber

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• Darius didn't have any trouble finding the Street Cats building. It was a cozy-looking square brick building with big front windows crowded with cat stuff. I made a mental note to pick up a little something for Nala from their gift shop. My cat was grumpy enough without her thinking that I'd been cheating on her (translation: I would smell like a zillion other cats) and hadn't even brought her a present.

  P. C. Cast

  Cheating, Cat, Thinking

  P. C. Cast, Kristin Cast (2010). “Untamed: A House of Night Novel”, p.145, Macmillan

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• Sometimes, certain of God's blessings arrive by shattering all the windows. (Brida)

  Paulo Coelho

  Blessing, Sometimes, Certain

  FaceBook post by Paulo Coelho from Apr 27, 2016

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• Say you’ll marry me when I come back or, before God, I won’t go. I’ll stay around here and play a guitar under your window every night and sing at the top of my voice and compromise you, so you’ll have to marry me to save your reputation.

  Margaret Mitchell

  Night, Guitar, Play

  Margaret Mitchell (2016). “Gone with the Wind”, p.541, Hamilton Books

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