There is no such thing as freedom on earth," he said. "Only different kinds of bondages. And comparative bondages. YOU think you are free now because you've escaped from a peculiarly unbreakable kind of bondage. But are you? You love me - THAT'S a bo...
. . . it is presumptuous in me to wish to choose my path, because I cannot tell which path is best for me. I must leave it to the Lord, Who knows me, to lead me by the path which is best for me, so that in all things His will may be done.
It isn't a bit of use my pretending I'm not crying, because I am... Pause to mop up. Better now. Perhaps it would really be rather dull to be married and settled for life. Liar! It would be heaven.
But some characters in books are really real--Jane Austen's are; and I know those five Bennets at the opening of Pride and Prejudice, simply waiting to raven the young men at Netherfield Park, are not giving one thought to the real facts of marriage.
I couldn't make it out - why you ever let me, I mean. I understand now. Things like that happen when you're in love with the wrong person. Worse things. Things you never forgive yourself for.
She sprinted after him, grabbing him by the shoulder just as she caught up. “I … I am sorry.” He let out a deep sigh. “As am I.” He yanked his shoulder free and continued walking back inside the castle.
On many occasions the curious atmospheric effects enchanted me vastly; these including a strikingly vivid mirage - the first I had ever seen - in which distant bergs became the battlements of unimaginable cosmic castles.
Let him talk," said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience, I a satisfied with having defeated him in his own castle.
Check a phone book out of a library. Inside is a foggy castle covered by a black leather glove, watched over by a shaggy gray dog. My name is written in numbers in the sky by the hand of Hans H. Handey.
A weird time in which we are alive. We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope.
I should not yield to it, he told himself once again as he walked along carrying the briefcase. Compulsion-obsession-phobia. But he could not free himself. It in my grip, I in its, he thought.
To Jana's mind everybody seemed happy to see BAbichka and resisted returning her, like a misplaced package sent to the wrong address. It was as if the recipient opened it up, knowing it should be returned, but wondering who long they could legitimate...
When Jim Donell thought of something to say he said it as often and in as many ways as possible, perhaps because he had very few ideas and had to wring each one dry.
You know, I endeavor to be more like my older brother. He's very magnetic. He's actually very much like 'Castle' in that people are attracted to him, and just want to be near him. You want to know where my brother is in a crowded room? He's the guy w...
The monuments of wit and learning are more durable than the monuments of power, or of the hands. For have not the verses of Homer continued twenty-five hundred years, or more, without the loss of a syllable or letter; during which time infinite palac...
You're all trying to figure out what went wrong inside my head. Fucking idiots. You'll never crack the code that's inside my head. You'll never get into my castle. You'll never even get past the gate.
The castle? The monster? The man of learning? I only just thought of it. Surely you know that just as the momentous events of the past cast their shadows down the ages, so now, when the sun is drawing toward the dark,our own shadows race into the pas...
Mention the gothic, and many readers will probably picture gloomy castles and an assortment of sinister Victoriana. However, the truth is that the gothic genre has continued to flourish and evolve since the days of Bram Stoker, producing some of its ...
General: Muska! Just don't forget that the government put *me* in charge of finding Laputa! Col. Muska: Don't forget that as the government's secret agent, I am in charge of *you*, General. General: [growling contemptuously] Blast! I really hate that...
Col. Muska: [chasing Sheeta through the labyrinth] Sheeta, listen to me. Be reasonable! There's no way you can escape. Sheeta: [pounding on a door] Please! Open! Please! Col. Muska: No one can hear you. Only *I* can help you.
Old Sophie: Howl, why is the Witch of the Wastes trying to hunt you down? Howl: She was once quite beautiful, so I decided to pursue her, then I realized she wasn't, so then, as usual, I ran away.
