Then on quaint pedestals and Terminal Gods and gracious pilasters of every sort, were shell-like vases of excessive fruits and flowers that hung about and burst over the edges and could never be restrained. The orange-trees and myrtles, looped with v...
We're meant to stay connected to our hearts, you see. Feeling our feelings, present in the moments we're given. But we don't do that. And that's when we get in trouble. ... We mature and take responsibility for ourselves and others, and that's a good...
...I'm a fool. I expect too much, then I'm angry because nothing ever works out the way I want. When I was young and full of hopes and aspirations, I didn't know I would get hurt so often. I think I'll get tough and won't ache again, then my fragile ...
Her corset was long, with a busk of steel; her waist, as I think I have said, was narrow: the kind of waist the doctors speak against, that gives a girl an illness. Her crinoline was made of watchspring. Her hair, inside its net, was fixed with half ...
The young man, who does not know the future, sees life as a kind of epic adventure, an Odyssey through strange seas and unknown islands, where he will test and prove his powers, and thereby discover his immortality. The man of middle years, who has l...
[Murdoch opens the door to what should be Shell Beach and instead sees the same sign he saw earlier advertising it. Murdoch walks up to the sign, confused] Dr. Schreber: There is no ocean, John. There is nothing beyond the city. The only place home e...
Gen. Yevgraf Zhivago: [narrating; on World War I] By the second winter, the boots had worn out... but the line still held. Even Comrade Lenin underestimated both the anguish of that 900-mile long front... as well our own cursed capacity for suffering...
Veruca Salt: They're not even trying! They don't want to find it! They're jealous of me! Mr. Salt: Sweetheart, I can't push them no harder; 19,000 bars an hour they're shelling; 760,000 they've done so far. Veruca Salt: You promised, Daddy! You promi...
A war changes people in a number of ways. It either shortcuts you to your very self; or it triggers such variations that you might as well have been a larva, pupating in dampness, darkness and tightly wrapped puttees. Then, providing you don't take f...
There was once a bunny who lived by the ocean. Every day he would stroll along the sandy beach and pick up thoughts which had washed ashore. He would find them in shells, under rocks, and sometimes even tangled up in seaweed. "Oh, this is a good one,...
