Ето, в това е нещастието на вашето поколение — възкликна дядото. — Слушай, Бил, срам ме е заради тебе, и ти си ми бил журналист! Изхвърляте от тоя живот всичко, което е сложено в него, за да му дава в...
Единственото нещо, което с истинско удоволствие бе докосвала, слушала и съзерцавала, тя не беше успяла да скъта.
Един здрав нощен сън, един здрав десетминутен рев, един двоен шоколадов сладолед, или трите заедно са идеално лекарство, Дъг.
Дядо ми казваше, че всеки трябва да остави нещо след себе си, когато умре. Дете или книга, или картина, или къща, или стена, която е построил, или чифт обувки, които е изработил. Или пък градина, коят...
В усьому світі романи, написані від щирого серця, містять у собі більше правди, ніж будь-які записані нашвидкоруч, переповнені датами та фактами репортажі!
Без досок и гвоздей дом не построишь, и если не хочешь, чтобы дом был построен, спрячь доски и гвозди. Если не хочешь, чтобы человек расстраивался из-за политики, не давай ему возможности видеть обе с...
А какво ви разтърси? Какво изтръгна факела от ръцете ви?- Не зная. Имаме всичко необходимо, за да бъдем щастливи, но не сме щастливи. Нещо липсва.
You'll find as you get older the days kind of blur ... can't tell one from the other...
Wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and ask for it back.
The shade of the raining tree where the sky fell and was lost in autumn leaves and crept down at last in shining rivers along the branches and trunk
Ridges of his thumbprint. He touched me. As I said
Most men jump at the chance to give up everything for nothing. There’s nothing we’re so slapstick with as our own immortal souls.
Hungry eyes,
Had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man
First time I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper.
Fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.
Everything tried to get its living done in the brief hour of respite. It
Custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior; official censors, judges, and executors.
But the full moon soothes all sick animal, be they human or plan field beast. there is a serenity of color, a quietude of touch, a sweet sculpturing of mind and body in full moonlight.
And it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still mo...