Why have we books in heaven?" "Why not?" asked my brother. "What strange ideas we mortals have of the pleasures and duties of this blessed life!...
I close my eyes, hoping to lose myself in the darkness but strangely, all I see are colors. How’s that even possible? I'm going blind from my arousal.
...he is not like other children, not cruel, or savage. For this very reason he is called 'strange.' A child who is mature, in the sense that the heart is mature, is always, I have observed, called deficient.
The truth is "#9dream" is a descendant of "Norwegian Wood". Both are ghost stories. "She" in "Norwegian Wood" curses you with loneliness. The "Two spirits dancing so strange" in "#9dream" bless you with harmony. But people prefer loneliness to harmon...
The strange word nymphomation, used to denote a complex mathematical procedure where numbers, rather than being added together or multiplied or whatever, were actually allowed to breed with each other to produce new numbers.
...women have done strange things; they are a far greater puzzle to the student of human nature than the sterner, less complex sex has ever been.
It's a strange truth that no matter how persuaded we might be of our own correctness, the discomfiting realization that others disagree with us causes a paralyzing inability to argue the case convincingly.
Strangely, I thought of the emotion I ought to feel without feeling it, as impartial as a National Geographic field researcher, carefully watching the events and chronicling them in a notebook.
All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive.
History, if it has taught us anything at all, has taught us that the strange ideas we deride today will one day be our celebrated truths.
When you get lost in a really strange place, nothing is more comforting than found your friend whom you trust and can show the way.
Among the many who fruitlessly attempted thoughout history to create a time machine, one individual actually succeeded. He was surprisingly not a human.
And now we who are writing women and strange monsters Still search our hearts to find the difficult answers, Still hope that we may learn to lay our hands More gently and more subtly on the burning sands.
Trees there were, old as trees can be, huge and grasping with hearts black as sin. Strange trees that some said walked in the night.
If not towards his case to give him glimpses of what could be a happy future, it stayed back at least to warrant her happiness, stayed back with the pain that strangely didn’t hurt anymore.
He was in a strange, badly lit room, wearing even stranger clothes, getting an earful from an unknown woman, in a language that he could and couldn’t exactly place in a very disturbing way. These were not his memories.
Our life's great friendships are dropped on us in strange little ways but for providential reasons. We are meant to encounter our opposites in life and be changed by them – transformed, in some manner.
He didn't like religion, hadn't liked it for years, but he adored churches, loved them like old scientific instruments whose time is long past but are nevertheless fascinating and strange.
The snow was too light to stay, the ground too warm to keep it. And the strange spring snow fell only in that golden moment of dawn, the turning of the page between night and day.
I was nervous. Like an ice cube, I just froze up. Then I melted in some strange guy’s drink.
Of course, some might argue that one can never know what's in the heart of a woman— For they are strange and mysterious creatures,and a man must be a mind reader if he ever wishes to make them happy.
