Window Quotes - Page 25

• my sword reappeared in my pocket. yeah,great timing.now i could attack the walls all i wanted.my cell had no bar,no window,not even a door

  Rick Riordan

  Wall, Doors, Cells

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• Phresine showed him where he could sleep, in an interior room with no windows, a narrow bed, and a washstand. There were chests stacked along one wall, and Costis guessed the dismal spot was probably a closet cleaned out to make room for him. Hard to believe the royal apartments, so lavish elsewhere, would otherwise have such a plain corner. Expecting better of royal closets, Costis went to bed disappointed.

  Megan Whalen Turner

  Wall, Believe, Sleep

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• Some time in the night I got up, tiptoed to my window, and looked out at my doghouse. It looked so lonely and empty sitting there in the moonlight. I could see that the door was slightly ajar. I thought of the many times I had lain in my bed and listened to the squeaking of the door as my dogs went in and out. I didn't know I was crying until I felt the tears roll down my cheeks.

  Wilson Rawls

  Dog, Lonely, Night

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• every healthy marriage is composed of walls and windows. The windows are the aspects of your relationship that are open to the world—that is, the necessary gaps through which you interact with family and friends; the walls are the barriers of trust behind which you guard the most intimatesecrets of your marriage.

  Elizabeth Gilbert

  Love, Heartbreak, Wall

  Elizabeth Gilbert (2010). “Committed: A Love Story”, p.84, Penguin

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• If Apollo caught sight of him outside or near a window during the light of day, Talon would be nothing more than a strip of fried bacon on the sidewalk. Extra-crispy Celt didn’t appeal to him in the least.’ (Talon)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Light, Sight, Would Be

  Sherrilyn Kenyon (2010). “Night Embrace”, p.39, Macmillan

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• Come aboard if your destination is oblivion- it should be our next stop. We can sit together. You can have the window seat if you want. But it's a sad view.

  Yann Martel

  Views, Together, Want

  Yann Martel, Canongate Books (2007). “Life of Pi (Illustrated): Deluxe Illustrated Edition”, p.125, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• One day a hummingbird flew in-- It fluttered against the window til I got it down where I could reach it with an open umbrella-- --When I had it in my hand it was so small I couldn't believe I had it--but I could feel the intense life--so intense and so tiny-- ...You were like the humming bird to me... And I am rather inclined to feel that you and I know the best part of one another without spending much time together-- --It is not that I fear the knowing-- It is that I am at this moment willing to let you be what you are to me--it is beautiful and pure and very intensely alive.

  Georgia O'Keeffe

  Beautiful, Believe, Hands

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• Why do you do these things to yourself? Not just what you did to the window, but the way you talked to Clary. What are you punishing yourself for? You can't help how you feel.

  Cassandra Clare

  Punishing Yourself, How You Feel, Way

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “City of Glass”, p.137, Simon and Schuster

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• He broke up with me." "Because you weren't in love with him. That's an iffy proposition, and I think he's handling with grace. A lot of teenage boys would sulk, or lurk around under your window with a boom box." "No one has a boom box anymore. That was the eighties.

  Cassandra Clare

  Teenage, Boys, Thinking

  Cassandra Clare (2009). “Sample of the CITYs”, p.67, Simon and Schuster

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• "I guess I've been waiting so long I'm looking for perfection. That makes it tough."
  "Waiting for perfect love?"
  "No, even I know better than that. I'm looking for selfishness. Like, say I tell you I want to eat strawberry shortcake. And you stop everything you're doing and run out and buy it for me. And you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortcake out to me. And I say I don't want it anymore and throw it out the window. That's what I'm looking for."

  Haruki Murakami

  Running, Perfect, Long

  "Norwegian Wood". Book by Haruki Murakami, 2011.

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• From the window, above the clatter of pots and the slamming of cabinets, Francis was singing, as though it was the happiest song in the world: 'We are the little black sheep who have gone astray . . . Baa baa baa . . . Gentlemen songsters off on a spree . . . Doomed from here to eternity . . .

  Donna Tartt

  Song, Sheep, Gentleman

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• He was silent for a moment, staring out the window into the rain; I imagined he was contemplating the fact that his family's presence was turning the locals into giant dogs.

  Stephenie Meyer

  Dog, Rain, Giants

  Stephenie Meyer (2008). “Eclipse”, Little Brown & Company

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• You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

  Suzanne Collins

  Sleep, Katniss, Tea

  Suzanne Collins (2010). “Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, Book 3)”, p.271, Scholastic Inc.

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• ...occasionally I wished I could walk through a picture window and have the sharp, broken shards slash me to ribbons so I would finally look like I felt.

  Elizabeth Wurtzel

  Suicide, Self Harm, Broken

  Elizabeth Wurtzel (2014). “Prozac Nation: Young and Depressed in America”, p.77, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• There is nothing fiercer than a failed artist. The energy remains, but, having no outlet, it implodes in a great black fart of rage which smokes up all the inner windows of the soul. Horrible as successful artists often are, there is nothing crueler or more vain than a failed artist.

  Erica Jong

  Successful, Artist, Soul

  Erica Jong (2013). “Fear of Flying: 40th Anniversary Edition”, p.210, Open Road Media

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• A habit of finding pleasure in thought rather than action is a safeguard against unwisdom and excessive love of power, a means of preserving serenity in misfortune and peace of mind among worries. A life confined to what is personal is likely, sooner or later, to become unbearably painful; it is only by windows into a larger and less fretful cosmos that the more tragic parts of life become endurable.

  Bertrand Russell

  Mean, Worry, Serenity

  Bertrand Russell, John Greer Slater, Peter Köllner (1996). “A Fresh Look at Empiricism: 1927-42”, p.310, Psychology Press

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• Just understand that the end began long ago We got here just in time Look All the squares in the sidewalks were already there All these strangers have more money than you do All the good riffs have been taken And everyone is so scared Murder is commonplace I don't even flinch at the gunshots outside my window I feel lonely without them

  Henry Rollins

  Lonely, Taken, Squares

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• Whenever it poured like this, Max felt as if time was pausing. It was like a cease-fire during which you could stop whatever you were doing and just stand by a window for hours, watching the performance, an endless curtain of tears falling from heaven.

  Carlos Ruiz Zafon

  Fall, Fire, Heaven

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• The witchlight made his skin paler, his eyes more intently blue. They were the color of the water in the North Atlantic, where the ice drifted on its blue-black surface like the snow clinging to the dark glass pane of a window.

  Cassandra Clare

  Eye, Dark, Glasses

  Cassandra Clare (2011). “Clockwork Angel”, p.172, Simon and Schuster

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• My name is Herondale," the boy said cheerfully. "William Herondale, but everyone calls me Will. Is this really your room? Not very nice, is it?" He wandered toward the window, pausing to examine the stacks of books on her bedside table, and then the bed itself. He waved a hand at the ropes. "Do you often sleep tied to the bed?

  Cassandra Clare

  Nice, Book, Sleep

  Cassandra Clare (2011). “Clockwork Angel”, p.37, Simon and Schuster

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• For that moment, at least, all our doors and windows were wide open; we were not carefully shutting out God's purifying light, in order to feel safe and secure; we were bathed in the same light that burned and yet did not consume the bush. We walked barefoot on holy ground.

  Madeleine L'Engle

  Holy Ground, Light, Doors

  Madeleine L'Engle (2016). “Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art”, p.40, Convergent Books

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• I think it's great that they can come in and suck us dry. Remind me to leave my window unlatched tonight. Day. Night. Whatever. Cone steal my soul, you worthless bastards. I'm open like a twenty-four-hour blood diner donor." (Dev)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Night, Thinking, Blood

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• The weak grey light that serves as harbinger of red and golden dawn faintly lit my window. I fumbled for a candle, found and lit it, and by its little light saw that the rose floating in the bowl was dying. It had already lost most of its petals, which floated on the water like tiny, un-seaworthy boats, deserted for safer craft. "Dear God," I said. "I must go back at once.

  Robin McKinley

  Light, Water, Rose

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• It is like sitting in a traffic jam on the San Diego Freeway with your windows rolled up and Portuguese music booming out of the surround-sound speakers while animals gnaw on your neck and diseased bill collectors hammer on your doors with golf clubs.

  Hunter S. Thompson

  Golf, Animal, Surround Sound

  Hunter S. Thompson (2012). “Hey Rube: Blood Sport, the Bush Doctrine, and the Downward Spiral of Dumbness”, p.101, Pan Macmillan

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• Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Summer, Song, Fall

  Rabindranath Tagore, Mohit Kumar Ray (2007). “Poems”, p.397, Atlantic Publishers & Dist

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