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"Your words, like your wounds, bring you honor..." - from Macbeth
"The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation." - from The Awakenin by Kate Chopin (Fantastic book)
I love the ocean, which explains the second qoute.
I like Horace Mann's "a house without books . . . " too. I also think on my last trip to DC, and the Library of Congress, Thomas Jefferson's "I cannot live without books" was plastered on everything sale-able. I like that one, too.
I'm not sure what exactly my favorite book quote is, but I find it amusing the ones that just stick with you for whatever reason.
From Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, "Anon, good Nurse," and then to Romeo, "But stay a little, I will come again." (If you want a new, fun, fun twist on the lines from the play, watch Ralph Fiennes and Gwyneth Paltrow in the film, Shakespeare in Love. Oh my!)
Of course, Dickens's "It was the worst of times, it was the best of times," or do I have it bassackwards?
This is likely my favorite book of all time. I knew I was going to love MD right from the fake introduction - and then the obsessive list of every conceivable definition of the whale - the Etymology. WHOA.
We're so lucky to have that book. I think it is perfect.
I'm not sure if the wording is exactly right, but it is from an Amy Tan book, a Chinese mother speaking to her Chinese American daughter-
"Just because I SPEAK with an accent doesn't mean I THINK with an accent"
And another that I've always liked, I memorized it years ago. It is from My Sweet Audrina, and even when I was young and liked VC Andrews, it was still not one of my favorites!
"There was a war going on in our house, a silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride."
There was a war going on in our house, a silent war that sounded no guns, and the bodies that fell were only wishes that died and the bullets were only words and the blood that spilled was always called pride."
"The long lonely road leads nowhere but back to a solitary bed, maybe tired enough to sleep without dreams. They've fallen to ashes, making the sheets too gritty for comfort."
"The long lonely road leads nowhere but back to a solitary bed, maybe tired enough to sleep without dreams. They've fallen to ashes, making the sheets too gritty for comfort."
Lifted and changed a bit from a poem I wrote nearly 40 years ago.
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