Quotes of: Edgar-allan-poe Keyword

One may prefer spring and summer to autumn and winter, but preference is hardly to the point. The earth turns, and we live in the grain of nature, turning with it.

Twentieth Century Pleasures: Prose on Poetry

But it is always easy to put together stories about a past which nobody any longer remembers, like those about journeys to countries where nobody has ever been.

Time Regained

And like an aviator who rolls painfully along the ground until, abruptly, he breaks away from it, I felt myself being slowly lifted towards the silent peaks of memory.

Time Regained

But old age, to begin with, has something in common with death. Some face it with indifference, not because they have more courage than others, but because they have less imagination.

Time Regained

No doubt, having developed the habit, out of idleness, of each day putting off my work until the day after, I thought that death could be dealt with in the same way.

Time Regained

Trusting yourself means living out what you already know to be true.

Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar

Chicago has so much excellent architecture that they feel obliged to tear some of it down now and then and erect terrible buildings just to help us all appreciate the good stuff.

The Time Traveler's Wife

Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust.

The Time Traveler's Wife

...and I suddenly feel that Henry is there, incredible need for Henry to be there and to put his hand on me even while it seems to me that Henry is the rain and I am alone and wanting him - Clare

The Time Traveler's Wife

You have wavered uncertainly between two systems, between drawing and coloring, between the painstaking phlegm, the stiff precision, of the old German masters, and the dazzling ardor, the happy fertility, of the Italian painters.

The Unknown Masterpiece

If I can't feel, if I can't move, if I can't think, and I can't care, then what conceivable point is there in living?

An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

Militant feminists are pro‐choice because it’s their ultimate avenue of power over men. And believe me, to them it is a question of power. It is their attempt to impose their will on the rest of society, particularly on men.

The Way Things Ought to Be

Vous travaillez pour l'armee, madame?' (You are working for the army?), a Frenchwoman said to me early in the Vietnam war, on hearing I had three sons.

Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution

Those who speak largely of the human condition are usually those most exempt from its oppressions - whether of sex, race, or servitude.

Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution

There is neither a proportional relationship, nor an inverse one, between a writer’s estimation of a work in progress & its actual quality. The feeling that the work is magnificent, & the feeling that it is abominable, are both mosquitoes to be rep...

The Writing Life

The stratagems by which briefly you ameliorated, even seemingly untwisted what still twists within you — you loved their taste and lay there on your side nursing like a puppy.

Watching the Spring Festival: Poems

Though the body is its genesis, a poem is the vision of a process Carved in space, vision your poor eye's single armor against winter spring summer fall

Watching the Spring Festival: Poems

Women Are Not Roses Women have no beginning only continual flows. Though rivers flow women are not rivers. Women are not roses they are not oceans or stars. i would like to tell her this but i think she already knows.

Women Are Not Roses

And now it was official: I loved REI more than I loved the people behind Snapple lemonade.

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

.. And now it was official: I loved REI more than I loved the people behind Snapple lemonade.

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

But life, they said, means life. Dying inside. The Devil was evil, mad, but I was the Devil's wife which made me worse. I howled in my cell. If the Devil is gone then how could this be hell?

The World's Wife