Game of Thrones Quotes - George RR Martin

“If I look back I am lost.”

“Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”

"If you think this has a happy ending, then you haven't been paying attention."

"Only the sound of the waves pounding remained, a roar no man could still."

"'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'
'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.”

“Fear cuts deeper than swords.”

And there is only one thing we say to Death: "'Not today.'"

“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”

"We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”

“The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that.”

“Life is not a song, sweetling.
Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow.”

“The things I do for love.”

“What do we say to the Lord of Death?"
"Not today.”

“Everything's better with some wine in the belly.”

“Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.”

"Swift as a deer. Quiet as shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost.”

“There is no creature on earth half so terrifying as a truly just man.”

“Opening your eyes is all that is needing. The heart lies and the head plays tricks with us, but the eyes see true. Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears. Taste with your mouth. Smell with your nose. Feel with your skin. Then comes the thinking, afterward, and in that way knowing the truth.”

“Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature."

“I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart was once.”

"The more people you love, the weaker you are."

“She had put despair and fear aside, as if they were garments she did not choose to wear.”

“You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you...”

“Some truths did not bear saying, and some lies were necessary.”

“'Men are mad and gods are madder,' she told the grass, and the grass murmured its agreement."

“And pray that he is the man I think he is, he finished silently, and not the man I fear he has become.”

“She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.”

“You must put these dreams aside, they will only break your heart.”

"Wizards die the same as other men, once you cut their heads off."

"Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less."

Tyrion: They say it’s impregnable.
Bronn: Give ten good men and some climbing spikes and I’ll “impregnate” the bitch.
Tyrion: I like you.

“She was tired of Jamie balking her. No one had ever balked her lord father. When Tywin Lannister spoke, men obeyed. When Cersei spoke, they felt free to counsol her, to contradict her, even refuse her. It is all because I am a woman. Because I cannot fight them with a sword."

"All men must die."

"Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head.”

"Some men want whores on the eve of battle, and some want gods. Jon wondered who felt better afterward."

"True knights are as rare as virgins in a whorehouse."

“Catelyn had never liked this godswood.

She had been born a Tully, at Riverrun far to the south, on the Red Fork of the Trident. The godswood there was a garden, bright and airy, where tall redwoods spread dappled shadows across tinkling streams, birds sang from hidden nests, and the air was spicy with the scent of flowers.”

“Her lord father had taught her never to steal, but it was growing harder to remember why.”

“She was no stranger to waiting, after all. Her man had always made her wait.”

“He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon."

“Jon lied ... loudly, as if that could make it true.”

“Choosing... it has always hurt. And always will. I know.”

“I crossed a thousand leagues to come to you, and lost the best part of me along the way. Don’t tell me to leave."

"In the world as I have seen it, no man grows rich by kindness."


“Mothers." The man made a word sound like a curse. "I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad.”

“So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm."

“This is the bravo’s dance, the water dance, swift and sudden. All men are made of water, do you know this? When you pierce them, the water leaks out and they die.”

"Why would Petyr lie to me?”
"Why does a bear shit in the woods?” he demanded, “Because it is his nature.”

“You can't hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn't mean it's useless.”

“A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone.”

"Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same."

“She had never loved him so much as she did in that instant.”

“But a voice inside her whispered, There are no heroes, and she remembered what Lord Petyr had said to her, here in this very hall. 'Life is not a song, sweetling,' he'd told her, 'You may learn that one day to your sorrow.' In life, the monsters win, she told herself.”

"You should have learned by now, none of us get the things we want."

“Is it so far from madness to wisdom?"

"All men must die, Jon Snow. But first we’ll live."

He snorted. “There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don’t ever believe any different.”
Sansa backed away from him. “You're awful.”
“I'm honest. It’s the world that’s awful.”

“Let him grow taller, she asked the gods.  Let him know sixteen, and twenty, and fifty.  Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms.  Please, please, please.”

“The lies we tell for love, he thought. May the gods forgive me.”

“'I can’t fly!'
'You’re flying right now.'
'I’m falling!'
'Every flight begins with a fall,' the crow said. 'Look down.'”

“A mad man sees what he sees.”

“You are an honest and honorable man...Ofttimes I forget that. I have met so few of them in my life.”

“You ought to see it when it blooms, all dark red flowers from horizon to horizon, like a see of blood. Come the dry season, and the world turns the color of old bronze. And this is only hranna, child. There are hundred kinds of grass out there, grasses as yellow as lemon and as dark as indigo, blue grasses and orange grasses and grasses as rainbows.”

“Everyone who isn't us is an enemy."

"You're the moon of my life that's all I know and all I need to know and if this is a dream I'll kill the man who tries to wake me."

“Her name is Brienne,” Jaime said. “Brienne, the maid of Tarth. You are still maiden, I hope?”
Her broad homely face turned red. “Yes.”
”Oh, good,” Jaime said. “I only rescue maidens.”

"Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner."

"Sorcery is a sword without a hilt. There is no safe way to grasp it."

“Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. Remember that, Sansa, when you come to play the game.”
"What...what game?”
“The only game. The game of thrones.”

“Tears aren't a woman's only weapon.”

"You're going to fight that?"
"I'm going to kill that."

Cersei: Pour the Lady Sansa some wine.
Sansa:  I’m not thirsty.
Cersei: So? I didn’t offer you water.

"She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust."

"Men of honor will do things for their children that they would never consider doing for themselves."

"A fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, I’ve heard it said."

"I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them."

"She wants fire, and Dorne sent her mud.
You could make a poultice out of mud to cool a fever. You could plant seeds in mud and grow a crop to feed your children. Mud would nourish you, where fire would only consume you, but fools and children and young girls would choose fire every time."

"She's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know."

"The waves may break upon the mountain, yet still they come, wave upon wave, and in the end only pebbles remain where once the mountain stood. And soon even the pebbles are swept away, to be ground beneath the sea for all eternity."

Silver Linings Playbook Quotes

"I do this! Time after time after time! I do all this shit for other people! And then I wake up and I'm empty! I have nothing!"

Pat:  How old are you?
Tiffany:  Old enough to have a marriage end and not wind up in a mental hospital.

"There's always going to be a part of me that's sloppy and dirty, but I like that. With all the other parts of myself. Can you say the same about yourself, fucker? Can you forgive? Are you any good at that?"

Pat:  You have poor social skills. You have a problem.
Tiffany:  I have a problem? You say more inappropriate things than appropriate things.

Tiffany:  You know, for a while, I thought you were the best thing that ever happened to me. But now I'm starting to think you're the worst.
Pat:  Of course you do. Come on, let's go dance.

"The only way to beat my crazy was by doing something even crazier. Thank you. I love you. I knew it from the moment I saw you. I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"I'm just a crazy slut with a dead husband!"

"Humanity is just nasty, and there's no silver lining."

"You know what? Forget I offered to help you. Forget the entire fucking idea. Because that must have been fucking crazy, because I'm so much crazier than you!"

"I'm going to come over and break that camera over your head, and come back and interview you about what it's like to have that camera broken over your head."

"It means, you know what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna take all this negativity and I'm gonna use it as fuel, I'm gonna find a silver lining, that's what I'm gonna do. And that's no bullshit. That's no bullshit. That takes work and that's the truth."

Pat: Stupid fucking book!  I just can't believe Nikki's teaching that book to the kids. I mean the whole time, let me just break it down for you, the whole time you're rooting for this Hemingway guy to survive the war and to be with the woman that he loves, Catherine Barkley...
Dolores: It's four o'clock in the morning, Pat.
Pat: ...and he does. He does. He survives the war, after getting blown up he survives it,
and he escapes to Switzerland with Catherine. But now Catherine's pregnant. Isn't that wonderful? She's pregnant. And they escape up into the mountains and they're gonna be happy, and they're gonna be drinking wine and they dance, they both like to dance with each other. There's scenes of them dancing, which was boring, but I liked it, because they were happy. You think he ends it there? No! He writes another ending. She dies, dad! I mean, the world's hard enough as it is, guys. It's fucking hard enough as it is. Can't somebody say, "Hey, let's be positive? Let's have a good ending to the story?"
Dolores: Pat, you owe us an apology.
Pat: Mom, I...for what, I can't apologize. I'm not gonna apologize for this. You know what I will do? I will apologize on behalf of Ernest Hemingway, because that's who's to blame here.
Pat Sr.: Yeah, have Ernest Hemingway call us and apologize to us, too.

"So yeah, I snapped. I almost beat him to death. But then I get fucking chastised for it?"

Pat: You okay?
Ronnie: I'm not okay. Don't tell anybody. Listen to me. I feel like I'm getting crushed and...
Pat: Crushed by what?
Ronnie: Everything. The family, the baby, the job, the fucking dicks at work. And it's like, you know, like I'm trying to do this, you know, and...and...and then I'm like...suffocating.
Pat: Holy shit.
Ronnie: You can't be happy all the time.
Pat: Who told you you can't be happy?
Ronnie: It's alright. You just do your best, you have no choice.
Pat: That's not true at all.
Ronnie: You just can't.
Pat: Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie!

Veronica: I can play music for the baby in any room.
Pat: Can you play "Ride the Lightning" by Metallica?

"You felt it, I felt it, don't lie. We're not liars like they are."

"Go back to sleep. The party's over. Show's over."

"You may not have experienced the shit that I did. But you loved hearing about it, didn't you? You are afraid to be alive, you're afraid to live. You're a hypocrite. You're a conformist. You're a liar. I opened up to you and you judged me."

"Look, sometimes it's okay with girls like this, they wanna have fun and sometimes it's not because they got a broken wing, and they're hurt, and they're an easy target. And in this case, this particular case, I think that wing is being fixed, my friend.  And you gotta make sure it gets mended. And you're gettin' in the way of that right now, okay? Because she's sensitive and she's smart, she's artistic. This is a great girl and you gotta be respectful of that."

"Let me ask you something. Do you call him when you're lonely?  That encourages him, Tiffany. You shouldn't do it."

Ronnie:  And then when I'm angry, which is a lot these days, I go to the garage. Metallica. Megadeth. I start fucking smashing shit.
Pat:  You gotta get your marriage together.
Ronnie:  I start breaking shit, and I hurt my hand. And I...
Pat:  Ronnie, that's fucked up.
Ronnie:  Yeah, but it makes me feel better. It's like my therapy, you know?

Tiffany: Yes. Do you feel that? That's emotion.
Pat: I don't feel anything.

"I'm not gonna fight. I'm not gonna fight."

"She's fucking nuts! When you started spending time with her, it all fell apart. This is the fucking reason right here."

"Let me tell you, I know you don't wanna listen to your father, I didn't listen to mine and I'm telling you, you gotta pay attention to the signs. When life reaches out with a moment like this, it's a sin if you don't reach back. I'm telling you, it's a sin if you don't reach back, and it'll haunt you for the rest of your days like a curse. You're facing a big challenge in your life right now, at this very moment, right here. That girl loves you, she really really loves you. And I don't know if Nikki ever did, but she sure as hell doesn't love you right now. And I'm telling you, don't fuck this up."

Mad Men

"In my heart, I'm on the verge of throwing you in front of a cab."

"Saturday night in the suburbs — that's when you really want to blow your brains out."

"You don't know how to drink. Your whole generation, you drink for the wrong reasons. My generation, we drink because it's good, because it feels better than unbuttoning your collar, because we deserve it. We drink, because it's what men do."

"Look, I want to tell you something, because you're very dear to me and I hope you understand it comes from the bottom of my damaged, damaged heart. You are the finest piece of ass I've ever had and I don't care who knows it. I am so glad I got to roam those hillsides."

"Now that I can finally understand you, I am less impressed with what you have to say."

"What you call love was invented by guys like me to sell nylons."

"I keep going to a lot of places and ending up somewhere I've already been."

"I don't wanna make a career out of being there so you can kick me when you fail."

"If I'm going to die, I want to die in Manhattan."

"You're not a good man. You never were. Even before we were married — and you know what I'm talking about."

Betty: Say what you always say.
Don: Everything's gonna be okay.

"When you don't have any power, you have to delay things."

"Sometimes when people get what they want, they realize how limited their dreams were."

"I hate to break it to you, but there is no big lie, there is no system, the universe is indifferent."

Peggy: Are there others like you?
Michael: I don't know. I haven't been able to find any.

"My mother raised me to be admired."

"One day, you're there. And then, all of a sudden, there's less of you. And you wonder where that part went, if it's living somewhere outside of you. And you keep thinking maybe you'll get it back. And then you realize: it's just gone."

"Nostalgia: it's delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, 'nostalgia' literally means 'the pain from an old wound.' It's a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship; it's a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards... it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the wheel; it's called the carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels: around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved. "

"When God closes a door, he opens a dress."

"You need three ingredients for a cocktail. Vodka and Mountain Dew is an emergency."

"I told him to be himself. That was pretty mean I guess."

"You want to be taken seriously. Stop dressing like a little girl."

"'re not dying for me. Because I never liked you."

Don Draper: It's your job. I give you money, you give me ideas.
Peggy Olson: And you never say thank you.
Don Draper: That's what the money is for!

"You're a whore."

"As far as I’m concerned, as long as men look at me that way, I’m earning my keep."

“I'm not a solution to your problem. I'm another problem.”

"This isn't China. There's no money in virginity."

"You don't cover for me. You manage people's expectations."

"Make it short, but significant."

"You came here because we do this better than you and part of that is letting our creatives be unproductive until they are."

"You had no right to fill a man like that with ambition."

"You wanna be somebody's discovery, not somebody's wife."

Greg Harris: Joannie, I don’t want to have a fight right now.
Joan Harris: Then stop talking.

"Don't fool yourself. This is some very dirty business."

Michael: I feel bad for you.
Don: I don't think about you at all.

"Yeah, and if I had met her first I would've known not to throw it away."

"Advertising is based on one thing: happiness. And do you know what happiness is? Happiness is the smell of a new car. It's freedom from fear. It's a billboard on the side of a road that screams with reassurance that whatever you're doing is OK. You are OK."

"I like redheads. Their mouths are like a drop of strawberry jam in a glass of milk."

"He has a place in South Hampton. I'm not saying that I've seen it, but it's beautiful."

"You're born alone and you die alone and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts. But I never forget. I'm living like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't one."

"So we're supposed to believe that people are living one way and secretly thinking the exact opposite? That's ridiculous."

"And no one will tell you this, but you can’t be a man. Don’t even try. Be a woman. Powerful business when done correctly. Do you understand what I’m saying, dear?"

"Only boring people are bored."

"You want to feel shitty right up until the point where I take your dress off."

The Blind Assasin - Margaret Atwood

“Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last, and it always tells the truth.”

“How could I have been so ignorant? she thinks. So stupid, so unseeing, so given over to carelessness. But without such ignorance, such carelessness, how could we live? If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be as ruined as God. You'd be a stone. You'd never eat or drink or laugh or get out of bed in the morning. You'd never love anyone, ever again. You'd never dare to.”

“When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too—leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.
Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been.”

“Don't blame me, blame history, he says, smiling. Such things happen. Falling in love has been recorded, or at least those words have.”

“This is how the girl who couldn't speak and the man who couldn't see fell in love.”

“What is it the I'll want from you? Not love: that would be too much to ask. Not forgiveness, which isn't yours to bestow. Only a listener, perhaps; only someone who will see me. Don't prettify me though, whatever else you do: I have no wish to be a decorated skull.
But I leave myself in your hands. What choice do I have? By the time you read this last page, that- if anywhere- is the only place I will be.”

“You shouldn't do that," said Laura. "You could set yourself on fire.”

“There were a lot of gods. Gods always come in handy, they justify almost anything.”

“Was that the beginning, that evening? It's hard to know. Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.”

“Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down.”

“What fabrications they are, mothers. Scarecrows, wax dolls for us to stick pins into, crude diagrams. We deny them an existence of their own, we make them up to suit ourselves -- our own hungers, our own wishes, our own deficiencies.”

“Was this a betrayal, or was it an act of courage? Perhaps both. Neither one involves forethought: such things take place in an instant, in an eyeblink. This can only be because they have been rehearsed by us already, over and over, in silence and darkness; in such silence, such darkness, that we are ignorant of them ourselves. Blind but sure-footed, we step forward as if into a remembered dance.”

“She imagines him imagining her. This is her salvation.
In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door and stair and bed. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then. Even the times they argued, fought, parted, agonized, rejoined. How they’d loved to cut themselves on each other, taste their own blood. We were ruinous together, she thinks. But how else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin?”

“Should is a futile word. It's about what didn't happen. It belongs in a parallel universe. It belongs in another dimension of space.”

“Why does the mind do such things? Turn on us, rend us, dig the claws in. If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. Maybe it's much the same.”

“I was sand, I was snow—written on, rewritten, smoothed over.”

“But in the end, back she comes. There's no use resisting. She goes to him for amnesia, for oblivion. She renders herself up, is blotted out; enters the darkness of her own body, forgets her name. Immolation is what she wants, however briefly. To exist without boundaries.”

“The cemetery has ... an inscription: 'Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will Fear No Evil, For Thou Art With Me.' Yes, it does feel deceptively safer with two; but Thou is a slippery character. Every Thou I've known has had a way of going missing."

“Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.”

“I'm not senile," I snapped. "If I burn the house down it will be on purpose.”

“When you're unhinged, things make their way out of you that should be kept inside, and other things get in that ought to be shut out. The locks lose their powers. The guards to to sleep. The passwords fail.”

“Blondes are like white mice, you only find them in cages. They wouldn’t last long in nature. They’re too conspicuous.”

“He needed to exist only in the present, without guilt, without expectation.”

One day he said to me - he had some English - "Why are you sad?"
"I'm not sad," I said, and began to cry. Sympathy from strangers can be ruinous.
"You should not be sad," he said, gazing at me with his melancholy, leathery walrus eyes. "It must be the love. But you are young and pretty, you will have time to be sad later." The French are connoisseurs of sadness, they know all the kinds. This is why they have bidets. "It is criminal, the love," he said, patting my shoulder. "But none is worse.”

“Things written down can cause a great deal of harm. All too often, people don't consider that.”

“He might die for her, but living for her would be quite different.”

“It's Paradise, but we can't get out of it. And anything you can't get out of is Hell.”

“Don't misunderstand me. I am not scoffing at goodness, which is far more difficult to explain than evil, and far more complicated. But sometimes it's hard to put up with.”

“Nevertheless, blood is thicker than water, as anyone knows who has tasted both."

She’d scoop us up and sit us on the white enamel kitchen table, alongside the pie dough she was rolling out or the chicken she was cutting up or the fish she was gutting, and give us a lump of brown sugar to get us to close our mouths. Tell me where it hurts, she’d say.  Stop howling. Just calm down and show me where.

But some people can’t tell where it hurts. They can’t calm down. They can’t ever stop howling.”

“Perhaps they were looking for passion; perhaps they delved into this book as into a mysterious parcel - a gift box at the bottom of which, hidden in layers of rustling tissue paper, lay something they'd always longed for but couldn't ever grasp."

“Time rises and rises, and when it reaches the level of your eyes you drown.”

“She did understand, or at least she understood that she was supposed to understand. She understood, and said nothing about it, and prayed for the power to forgive, and did forgive. But he can't have found living with her forgiveness all that easy. Breakfast in a haze of forgiveness: coffee with forgiveness, porridge with forgiveness, forgiveness on the buttered toast. He would have been helpless against it, for how can you repudiate something that is never spoken? She resented, too, the nurse, or the many nurses, who had attended my father in the various hospitals. She wished him to owe his recovery to her alone—to her care, to her tireless devotion. That is the other side of selflessness: its tyranny.”

“Sometimes — increasingly, as time went by — there were bruises, purple, then blue, then yellow.  It was remarkable how easily I bruised, said Richard, smiling.  A mere touch would do it."

“The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date.”

"I wonder which is preferable - to walk around all your life swollen up with your secrets until you burst from the pressure of them, or to have them sucked out of you, every paragraph, every sentence, every word of them, so at the end you're depleted of all that was once as precious to you as hoarded gold, as close to you as your skin - everything that was of the deepest importance to you, everything that belonged to you alone - and must spend the rest of your days like an empty sack flapping in the wind, an empty sack branded with bright fluorescent label so that everyone will know what sort of secrets used to be inside you?"

“...gazing down at the black water remembering all the stories of women who had thrown themselves into it. They'd done it for love, because that was the effect love had on you. It snuck up on you, it grabbed hold of you before you knew it, and then there was nothing you could do. Once you were in it- in love- you would be swept away, regardless. Or so the books had it.”

I'm the one with nothing to lose.
She says, But you've got me. I'm not nothing.

Charlotte Bronte - Jane Eyre

I feared nothing but interruption, and that came too soon.

Her beauty, her pink cheeks and golden curls, seemed to give delight to all who looked at her, and to purchase indemnity for every fault.

At last both slept: the fire and candle went out. For me, the watches of that long night passed in ghastly wakefulness; ear, eye, and mind were alike strained by dread: such dread as children only can feel.

Vain favour! coming, like most other favours long deferred and often wished for, too late!

She might as well have said to the fire, "don't burn!"

"And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?"
"No, sir."
"What must you do to avoid it?"
"I deliberated for a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "I must keep in good health, and not die."

"…it is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear."

"I made no effort; I follow as inclination guides me. There is no merit in such goodness."

"When we are struck at without a reason, we should strike back again very hard; I am sure we should--so hard as to teach the person who struck us never to do it again."

I rallied my forces for the worst. It came.

What my sensations were, no language can describe; but just as they all arose, stifling my breath and constricting my throat, a girl came up and passed me: in passing, she lifted her eyes. What a strange light inspired them! What an extraordinary sensation that ray sent through me! How the new feeling bore me up! It was as if a martyr, a hero, had passed a slave or victim, and imparted strength in the transit.

"By dying young, I shall escape great sufferings. I had not qualities or talents to make my way very well in the world. I should have been continually at fault."

"Where is God? What is God?"
"My Maker and yours, who will never destroy what he created."

A phase of my life was closing to-night, a new one opening to-morrow: impossible to slumber in the interval; I must watch feverishly while the change was being accomplished.

I had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one. I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic.

"…a present has many faces to it, has it not? and one should consider all, before pronouncing an opinion on it."

"…you with your gravity, considerateness, and caution were made to be the recipient of secrets. Besides, I know what sort of mind I have placed in communication with my own: I know it is not one liable to take infection: it is a peculiar mind; it is an unique one. Happily I do not mean to harm it: but if I did, it would not take harm from me. There more you and I converse, the better, for while I cannot blight you, you may be refresh me."

"I feared the meeting in the morning: now I desire it, because expectation has been so long baffled that it is grown impatient."

"You," I said, "a favourite with Mr. Rochester? You gifted with the power of pleasing him? You of importance to him in any way? Go! your folly sickens me."

"It does good to no woman to be flattered by her superior, who cannot possibly intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it…"

Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have, gathers impulsively around him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract: I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered:--and yet, while I breathe and think I must love him.

"Pardon the seeming paradox: I mean what I say. She was very showy, but she was not genuine: she had a fine person, many brilliant attainments; but her mind was poor, her heart barren by nature: nothing bloomed spontaneously on that soil; no unforced natural fruit delighted by its freshness. She was not good, she was not original: she used to repeat sounding phrases from books: she never offered, nor had, an opinion of her own. She advocated a high tone of sentiment; but she did not know the sensations of sympathy and pity; tenderness and truth were not in her."

'I can live alone, if self-respect and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure, born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld; or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.'

"If all these people came in a body and spat at me, what would you do, Jane?"
"Turn them out of the room, sir, if I could."

"Come where there is some freshness, for a few moments," he said; "that house is a mere dungeon: don't you feel it so?"
"It seems to me a splendid mansion, sir."
"The glamour of inexperience is over your eyes," he answered; "and you see it through a charmed medium: you cannot discern that the gilding is slime and the silk draperies cobwebs; that the marble is sordid slate, and the polished woods mere refuse chips and scaly bark. Now here (he pointed to the leafy enclosure we had entered) all is real, sweet, and pure."

"Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back to you: and wherever you are is my home-- my only home."

It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment. I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege for leaving him. I followed with a lagging step, and thoughts busily bent on discovering a means of extrication; but he himself looked so composed and so grave also, I became ashamed of feeling any confusion: the evil--if evil existent or prospective there was--seemed to lie with me only; his mind was unconscious and quiet.

"God pardon me!" he subjoined ere long, "and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her."

"It will atone--it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgement--I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion--I defy it."

"Did she think, Janet, you had given the world for love, and considered it well lost?"

"Your station is in my heart, and on the necks of those who would insult you, now or hereafter."

Yet after all, my task was not an easy one; often I would rather have pleased than teased him. My future husband was becoming to me my whole world; and more than the world: almost my hope of heaven. He stood between me and every thought of religion, as an eclipse intervenes between man and the broad sun. I could not, in those days, see God for his creature: of whom I had made an idol.

"A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; iced glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hay-field and corn-field lay a frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with trodden snow; and the woods which twelve hours since waved leafy and fragrant as groves between the tropics, now spread, waste, wild and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway."

"Oh, nevermore could it turn to him; for faith was blighted--confidence destroyed! Mr. Rochester was not to me what had been; for he was not what I had thought him."

"I would not say he had betrayed me: but the attribute of stainless truth was gone from his idea; and from his presence I must go; that I perceived well."

One idea only still throbbed life-like within me--a remembrance of God: it begot a muttered prayer: these words went wandering up and down in my rayless mind, as something that should be whispered; but no energy was found to express them:--
"Be not far from me, for trouble is near: there is none to help."

That bitter hour cannot be described: in truth, "the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing; I came into deep waters; the floods overwhelmed me."

"…that I must leave him decidedly, instantly, entirely, is intolerable. I cannot do it."
But, then, a voice within me averred that I could do it; and foretold that I should do it. I wrestled with my own resolution: I wanted to be weak that I might avoid the awful passage of further suffering I saw laid out for me; and conscience, turned tyrant, held passion by the throat, told her tauntingly, she had yet but dipped her dainty foot in the slough, and swore that with that arm of iron, he would thrust her down to unsounded depths of agony.
"Let me be torn away, then!" I cried. "Let another help me!"
"No; you shall tear yourself away, none shall help you: you shall."

"Great God!--what delusion has come over me? What sweet madness has seized me?"

"I am my own mistress."

"No--no--Jane; you must not go. No--I have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence--the sweetness of your consolation: I cannot give up these joys. I have little left in myself--I must have you. The world may laugh--may call me absurd, selfish--but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied: or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame."

"Am I hideous, Jane?"
"Very, sir: you always were, you know."
"Humph! The wickedness has not been taken out of you, wherever you sojourned."

"All the sunshine I can feel is in her presence."

(Aside.) "Damn him!"--(To me.) "Did you like him, Jane?"
"Yes, Mr. Rochester, I like him: but you asked me that before."
I perceived, of course, the drift of my interlocutor. Jealously had got hold of him: she stung him; but the sting was salutary: it gave him respite from the gnawing fang of melancholy. I would not, therefore, immediately charm the snake.
"Perhaps you would rather not sit any longer on my knee, Miss Eyre?" was the next somewhat unexpected observation.

"Miss Eyre, I repeat it, you can leave me. How often am I to say the same thing? Why do you remain pertinaciously perched on my knee, when I have given you notice to quit?"
"Because I am comfortable there."

"You are no ruin, sir--no lightning struck tree: you are green and vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength offers them so safe a prop."

"Choose then, sir--her who loves you best."
"I will at least choose--her I love best."

"Jane! you think me, I daresay, an irreligious dog: but my heart swells with gratitude to the beneficent God of this earth just now. He sees not as man sees, but far clearer: judges not as man judges, but far more wisely. I did wrong: I would have sullied my innocent flower--breathed guilt onto its purity: the Omnipotent snatched it from me. I, in my stiff-necked rebellion, almost cursed the dispensation: instead of bending to the decree, I defied it. Divine justice pursued its course; disasters came thick on me: I was forced to pass through the valley of the shadow of death. His chastisements are mighty; and one smote me which has humbled me for ever."

"As I exclaimed 'Jane! Jane! Jane!' a voice--I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was--replied, 'I am coming: wait for me,' and a moment after, went whispering on the wind, the words--'Where are you?'"

I have now been married ten years. I know what it is to live entirely for and with what I love best on earth.

To be together is for us to be at once as free as in solitude, as gay as in company.

When his firstborn was put into his arms, he could see that the boy had inherited his own eyes, as they once were--large, brilliant, and black. On that occasion, he again, with a full heart, acknowledged that God has tempered judgment with mercy.

"My Master," he says, "has forewarned me. Daily he announces more distinctly,--'Surely I come quickly!' and hourly I more eagerly respond,--'Amen; even so come, Lord Jesus!'"

A Moveable Feast - Hemingway

“He’s just a showman and he corrupts for the pleasure of corruption and he leads people into other vicious practices as well.”

She wanted to know the gay part of how the world was going; never the real, never the bad.

I had learned already never to empty the well of my writings, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.

“You are all a generation perdue.”

But the hell with her lost-generation talk and all the dirty, easy labels.

No one I knew was ever nicer to me.

“Don’t read too fast,” she said.

“And we’ll never love anyone else but each other.”
“No. Never.”

With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.
In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except when to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

It was all part of the fight against poverty that you never win except by not spending.

We thought we were superior people and other people that we looked down on and rightly mistrusted were rich.

She had the lovely high cheekbones for arrogance.

"There are so many sorts of hunger. In the spring there are more. But that's gone now. Memory is hunger."

But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.

Racing never came between us, only people could do that; but for a long time it stayed close to us like a demanding friend.

By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped. But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself. If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.

The beer was very cold and wonderful to drink. The pommes a l'huile were firm and marinated and the olive oil delicious. I ground black pepper over the potatoes and moistened the bread in the olive oil. After the first heavy draft of beer I drank and ate very slowly.

It was a very simple story called "Out of Season" and I had omitted the real end of it which was that the old man hanged himself. This was omitted on my new theory that you could omit anything if you knew that you omitted and the omitted part would strengthen the story and make people feel something more than they understood.

"You want me to paint you and pay you and bang you to keep my head clear, and be in love with you too," Pascin said. "You poor littl doll."

He liked the works of his friends, which is beautiful as loyalty but can be disastrous as judgment.

I tried to break his face down and describe it but I could only get the eyes. Under the black hat, when I had first seen them, the eyes had been those of an unsuccessful rapist.

Ernest Walsh was dark, intense, faultlessly Irish, poetic and clearly marked for death as a character is marked for death in a motion picture.

"Hem, I want you to keep this jar of opium and give it to Dunning only when he needs it."

"Monsieur Dunning est monte sur le toit et refuse categoriquement de descendre."

"We need more true mystery in our lives, Hem," he once said to me. "The completely unambitious writer and the really good unpublished poem are the things we lack most at this time. There is, of course, the problem of sustenance."

His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At once time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly anymore because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.

I said I did not believe anyone could write any way except the very best he could write without destroying his talent.

Since I had started to break down all my writing and get rid of all facility and try and make instead of describe, writing had been wonderful to do.

Scott then asked me if I were afraid to die and I said more at some times than at others.

I was getting tired of the literary life, if this was the literary life that I was leading, and already I missed not working and I felt the death loneliness that comes at the end of every day that is wasted in your life.

We were happy the way children are who have been separated and are together again and I told her about the trip.

"Never go on trips with anyone you do not love."

"We're awfully lucky."
"We'll have to be good and hold it."

Zelda had hawk's eyes and a thin mouth and deep-south manners and accent.

Nobody thought anything of it at the time. It was only Zelda's secret that she shared with me, as a hawk might share something with a man. But hawks do not share. Scott did not write anything any more that was good until after he knew that she was insane.

My words would become something that would have to be destroyed and sometimes, if possible, me with them.

When you have two people who love each other, are happy and gay and really good work is being done by one or both of them, people are drawn to them as surely as migrating birds are drawn at night to a powerful beacon. If the two people were as solidly constructed as the beacon there would be little damage except to the birds. Those who attract people by their happiness and their performance are usually inexperienced. They do not know how not to be overrun and how to go away.

All things truly wicked start from an innocence. So you live day by day and enjoy what you have and do not worry. You lie and hate it and it destroys you and every day is more dangerous, but you live day to day as in a war.

I did my business in New York and when I got back to Paris I should have caught the first train from Gare de l'Est that would take me down to Austria. But the girl I was in love with was in Paris then, and I did not take the first train, or the second or the third.

I wished I had died before I loved anyone but her.

There is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other.

Cold Mountain - Charles Frazier

...all he could vision was a world from which everything he counted important had been banished or had willingly fled.

How did you find someone to hate for a thing that just was? What would be the cost of not having an enemy? Who could you strike for retribution other than yourself?

At the center of the light, a black silhouette of a figure moved as if walking, but the image was too vague to tell if it approached or walked away.

Am I meant to follow, or should I wait its coming? Ada wondered.

-And what this fellow come down for was to save us?
-Yes, Monroe said.
-From our own bad natures and the like?
-And they still done him like they did? Spiked him up and knifed him and all?
-Yes indeed, Monroe said.
-But you say this story's been passed around some hundred-score years? Esco said.
-So to say, a long time.
-A very long time.
Esco grinned as if he had solved a puzzle and stood up and slapped Monroe on the shoulder and said, Well, about all we can do is hope it ain't so.

-I despise that bird, Ada said. He tried to flog me.
Ruby said, I'd not keep a flogging rooster.
-Then how might we run it off? Ada said.

The road, they said, was a place apart, a country of its own ruled by no government but natural law, and its one characteristic was freedom.

He said, I've been coming for you on a hard road. I'm never letting you go. Never.

This world won't stand long, the captive hollered in conclusion to his tale. God won't let it stand this way long.

The martins flew from the tree as one body, still in the shape of the round maple they had filled.

I'll soon be naught but scar.

The image was like oil on water. She had to tip it in her hand, making fine adjustments to get the light to make sense of it.

He seemed saddened that the tender moment had been lost and he could find no way to bring it back.

In her heart, though, she wondered, Is anything remembered forever?

We might never speak again, and I don't plan to leave that comment standing in the place of truth. You're not owning up to it, but you came with expectations and they were not realized. Largely because I behaved contrary to my heart. I'm sorry for that. And I would do it differently if given a chance to go back and revise.
-That's not a thing any of us are granted. To go back. Wipe away what later doesn't suit us and make it the way we wish it. You just go on.

Inman climbed part of one day and all of the next and there was still a wall of mountain reared up before him, the track rising tack and tack endlessly. It soon lifted him into a later stage of autumn, for in the heights the season was already far along, and there were as many leaves on the ground as in the trees.

I am stronger every minute, he thought to himself. But when he sought supporting evidence, he could find none.

Waves of mountains. For all the evidence the eye told, they were endless.

-That's just pain, she said. It goes eventually. And when it's gone, there's no lasting memory. Not the worst of it, anyway. It fades. Our minds aren't made to hold on to the particulars of pain the way we do bliss. It's a gift God gives us, a sign of His care for us.

You get to be my age, just recollecting pleasures long ago is pain enough.

...though he realized marriage implied some faith in a theoretical future, a projection of paired lines running forward through time, drawing nearer and nearer to one another until they became one line.

Marrying a woman for her beauty makes no more sense than eating a bird for its singing. But it's a common mistake nonetheless.

Look here, the woman said. If I had a boy, I'd tell him the same as I'm telling you. Watch yourself.

God, if I could sprout wings and fly, he thought. I would be gone from this place, my great wings bearing me up and out, long feathers hissing in the wind.

He saw with sorrow that hers was a life he could step right into and keep working at hard from tonight until death. If he allowed himself to ponder it for a minute, he saw all the world hanging over the girl like the deadfall to a trap, ready to drop and crush.

Sara had lit a tallow dip and was at the table washing dishes in a basin. The air around the light seemed thick. All the bright objects close to it haloed. Everything in the shadows beyond it was extinguished completely, as if never to reappear. The curve of the girl's back as she bent over the table seemed to Inman a shape not to be duplicated in all the time stretched out before him. A thing to fix in mind and hold...

-If I was to ask you to do something, would you do it?
Inman considered that he should frame an answer here on the order of Maybe, or If I can, or some provisional phrase.
What he said was, Yes.

The tick over the rope was filled with fresh straw and smelled dry and autumnal and sweet, and underlying that was the smell of the girl herself, like a stand of wet laurels after their blooms have fallen to the ground.

...the baby sleeping by the fire. Without her, Sara said, there'd be nothing holding me to earth.

Her singing against such resistance seemed to Inman about the bravest thing he had ever witnessed.

Had she been an old woman who long ago in her youth sang beautifully, one might have said that she had learned to use the diminished nature of her voice to maximum effect, that it was a lesson in how to live with damage, how to make peace with it and use it for what it can do. But she was not an old woman.

Do just as much as you could do and still be able to get up and do again tomorrow. No more, and no less. if he had long since cheerfully submitted to knowing that however well he rendered a piece, he could always imagine doing better.

She wiped the pen clean on a blotter and dipped again and wrote, Come back to me is my request.

Do you want to say something?
-No, the woman said. Every word in me would come out bitter.

-I can't ever look back on this day with a still mind if I let you go without cooking for you, she said.

The peaks now stood higher, the vales deeper than they did in truth. Inman imagined the fading rows of ridges standing pale and tall as cloudbanks, and he built the contours of them and he colored them, each a shade paler and bluer until, when had finally reached the invented ridgeline where it faded into sky, he was asleep.

I've no aim to trouble you. I'll walk on from here and never be back. I'm just asking for clear passage.

He could walk and the wind would blow the yellow leaves across his footsteps and he would be hid and safe from the wolfish gaze of the world at large.

He tried to name which of the deadly seven might apply, and when he failed he decided to append an eighth, regret.

It was me, I'd about rather rest of the mountain than anywhere else you could name.

They say you know Georgia when you come to it, for it's nothing but red dirt and rough roads.

All God's works but elaborate analogy. Every bright image in the visible world only a shadow of a divine thing, so that earth and heaven, low and high, strangely agreed in form and meaning because they were in fact congruent.

The rose-- it's thorns and its blossom-- a type of the difficult and dangerous path to spiritual awakening.

But you could not say the song had been improved, for as was true of all human effort, there was never advancement. Everything added meant something lost, and about as often as not, the thing lost was preferable to the thing gained, so that over time we'd be lucky if we just broke even. Any thought otherwise was empty pride.

She was so tired her legs felt burnt out from under her, but she believed she could get through this if she did one thing at a time and thought of the remaining things left to be done as sequential, not cumulative.

She would see him and know him in every feature.

You could become so lost in bitterness and anger that you could not find your way back. No map nor guidebook for such journey.

-I know I don't need him, Ada said. But I think I want him.

-What I'm certain I don't want, she finally said aloud, is to find myself someday in a new century, an old bitter woman looking back, wishing that right now I'd had more nerve.

The why of it, like much in life, offered little access to logic.

Then, immediately, longing of so many kinds welled up in him that he was afraid it would all come spilling out in a frightening mess of words if he didn't shut his mouth and find some better direction for his thoughts.

She had made her way to a place where an entirely other order prevailed from what she had always known.

He talked to her of the great waste of years between then and now. A long time gone. And it was pointless, he said, to think how those years could have been put to better use, for he could hardly have put them to worse.

You could grieve endlessly for the loss of time and for the damage done therein. For the dead, and for your own lost self. But what the wisdom of the ages says is that we do well not to grieve on and on. And those old ones knew a thing or two and had some truth to tell, Inman said, for you can grieve your heart out and in the end you are still where you were. All your grief hasn't changed a thing. What you have lost will not be returned to you. It will always be lost. You're left with only your scars to mark the void. All you can choose to do is go on or not. But if you go on, it's knowing you carry your scars with you.

There was a redemption of some kind, he believed, in such complete fulfillment of a desire so long deferred.

And then she thought that you went on living one day after another, and in time you were somebody else, your previous self only like a close relative, a sister or brother, with whom you shared a past.

She smelled the sweet woodsmoke and thought that it would be a measure of one's success at attending to the details of the world if one could identify trees by the scent of their smoke. It would be a skill one might happily aspire to master. There were many worse things to know. Things that did damage to others and eventually to oneself.

The world was such an incredibly lonely place, and to lie down beside him, skin to skin, seemed the only cure.

And they did what lovers often do when they think the future stretches out endless before them as bright as on the noon of creation day: they talked ceaselessly of the past, as if each must be caught up on the other's previous doings before they can move forward paired.

God lays the unbearable on you and then takes some back.

They were both at such an age that they stood on a cusp. They could think in one part of their minds that their whole lives stretched out before them without boundary or limit. At the same time another part guessed that youth was about over for them and what lay ahead was another country entirely, wherein the possibilities narrowed down moment by moment.

When Ada disappeared into the trees, it was like a part of the richness of the world had gone with her. He had been alone in the world and empty for so long. But she filled him full, and so he believed everything that had been taken out of him might have been for a purpose. To clear the space for something better.

He tried to talk, but she hushed him. He drifted in and out and dreamed a bright dream of home. It had a coldwater spring rising out of rock, black dirt fields, old trees. In his dream the year seemed to be happening all at one time, all the seasons blending together. Apple trees hanging heavy with fruit but yet unaccountably blossoming, ice rimming the spring, okra plants blooming yellow and maroon, maple leaves as red as October, corn tops tasseling, a stuffed chair pulled up to the glowing parlor hearth, pumpkins shining in the fields, laurels blooming on the hillsides, ditch banks full of orange jewelweed, white blossoms on dogwood, purple on redbud. Everything coming around at once.

A Farewell to Arms - Hemingway

I had drunk much wine and afterward coffee and Strega and I explained, winefully, how we did not do the things we wanted to do; we never did such things.

I had gone to no such place but to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was...

He had always known what I did not know and what, when I learned it, I was always able to forget.

"I don't know," I said. "There isn't always an explanation for everything."
"Oh, isn't there? I was brought up to think there was."
"That's awfully nice."

"Have you ever loved any one?"
"No," I said.

I was angry and yet certain, seeing it all ahead like moves in a chess game.

"Oh, darling," she said. "You will be good to me, won't you?"
What the hell, I thought. I stroked her hair and patted her shoulder. She was crying.
"You will, won't you?" She looked up at me. "Because we're going to have a strange life."

She looked at me, "And you do love me?"
"Yes," I lied. "I love you." I had not said it before.

"You won't go away?"
"No. I'll always come back."

The major said he had heard a report that I could drink. I denied this.

"There is a class that controls a country that is stupid and does not realize anything and never can. That is why we have this war."

Then there was a flash, as when a blast furnace door is swung open, and a road that started white and went red and on and on in a rushing wind. I tried to breathe but my breath would not come and I felt myself rush bodily out of myself and out and out and out and all the time bodily in the wind.

The doctors were working with their sleeves up to their shoulders and were red as butchers.

"Come, come," he said. Don't be a bloody hero." Then in Italian: "Lift him very carefully about the legs. His legs are very painful. He is the legitimate son of President Wilson."

"You are really an Italian. All fire and smoke and nothing inside."

"My God what would a man do with a woman like that except worship her?"

"You understand but you do not love God."
"You do not love Him at all?" he asked.
"I am afraid of Him in the night sometimes."
"You should love Him."
"I don't love much."

"Hello, darling," she said. She looked fresh and young and very beautiful. I thought I had never seen anyone so beautiful.

God knows I had not wanted to fall in love with her. I had not wanted to fall in love with any one. But God knows I had...

It was as though we met again after each of us had been away on a long journey.

I loved to take her hair down and she sat on the bed and kept very still, except suddenly she would dip down to kiss me while I was doing it, and I would take out the pins and lay them on the sheet and it would be loose and I would watch her while she kept very still and then take out the last two pins and it would all come down and she would drop her head and we would both be inside of it, and it was the feeling of inside a tent or behind falls.

She had wonderfully beautiful hair and I would lie sometimes and watch her twisting it up in the light that came in the open door and it shone even in the night as water shines sometimes just before it is really daylight.

"Don't talk as though you had to make an honest woman of me, darling. I'm a very honest woman. You can't be ashamed of something if you're only happy and proud of it. Aren't you happy?"

"I've always been afraid of the rain."

There was a great contrast between his world of pessimism and personal cheeriness.

"Because there's only us two and in the world there's all the rest of them. If anything comes between us we're gone and then they have us."

"The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one?"
"Of course. Who said it?"
"I don't know."
"He was probably a coward," she said. "He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he's intelligent. He simply doesn't mention them."

"I am very tired of this war. If I was away I do not believe I would come back."

"I will get you drunk and take out your liver and put you in a good Italian liver and make you a man again."

"No. We never get anything. We are born with all we have and we never learn. You never get anything new. We all start complete."

"I don't give a damn," Rinaldi said to the table. "To hell with the whole business." He looked defiantly around the table, his eyes flat, his face pale.
"All right," I said. "To hell with the whole damn business."

"No one ever stopped when they were winning."

"We won't talk about losing. There is enough talk about losing. What has been done this summer cannot have been done in vain."

Christ, that my love were in my arms and I in my bed again.

I could remember Catherine but I knew I would get crazy if I thought about her when I was not sure yet I would see her, so I would not think about her, only about her a little...

"I don't live at all when I'm not with you."
"I won't ever go away," I said. "I'm no good when you're not there. I haven't any life at all any more."

"Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?"
"Yes. I want to ruin you."
"Good," I said. "that's what I want too."

"In the spring when it is nice you could come and enjoy it. We could put the little one and the nurse in the big room that is closed now and you and Madame could have your same room looking out over the lake."

"I'm not brave any more, darling. I'm all broken. They've broken me. I know it now."
"Everybody is that way."
"But it's awful. They just keep it up till they break you."

But they killed you in the end. You could count on that. Stay around and they would kill you.

"Don't worry, darling," Catherine said. "I'm not a bit afraid. It's just a dirty trick."

The Garden of Eden - Hemingway Quotes

They were always hungry but they ate very well. They were hungry for breakfast which they ate at the cafe, ordering brioche and cafe au lait and eggs, and the type of preserve that they chose and the manner in which the eggs were to be cooked was an excitement.

On this morning there was brioche and red raspberry preserve and the eggs were boiled and there was a pat of butter that melted as they stirred them and salted them lightly and ground pepper over them in cups.

"I'm the destructive type," she said. "And I'm going to destroy you. They'll put up a plaque on the wall of the building outside the room."

The young man paid for the lunch and drank the wine that was left in the bottle. Then he went upstairs. The girl's clothes were folded on one of the Van Gogh chairs and she was waiting for him in the bed with the sheet over her. Her hair was spread out over the pillow and her eyes were laughing and he lifted the sheet and she said, "Hello, darling. Did you have a nice lunch?"

They were hungry for lunch and the bottle of white wine was cold and they drank it as they ate the celery remoulade and the small radishes and the home pickled mushrooms from the big glass jar. The bass was grilled and the grill marks showed on the silver skin and the butter melted on the hot plate. There was sliced lemon to press on the bass and fresh bread from the bakery and the wine cooled their tongues from the heat of the fried potatoes.

She slipped out of bed and stood straight with her long brown legs and her beautiful body tanned evenly from the far beach where they swam without suits. She held her shoulders back and her chin up and she shook her head so her heavy tawny hair slapped around her cheeks and then bowed forward so it all fell forward and covered her face.

She had always looked, he thought, exactly her age which was now twenty-one. He had been very proud of her for that. But tonight she did not look it. The lines of her cheekbones showed clear as he had never seen them before and she smiled and her face was heartbreaking.

"You don't mind if we've gone to the devil, do you?"
"No, girl," he said.

"You see," she said. "That's the surprise. I'm a girl. But now I'm a boy too and I can do anything and anything and anything."

They ate a steak for dinner, rare, with mashed potatoes and flageolets and a salad and the girl asked if they might drink Tavel. "It is a great wine for people that are in love," she said.

"Let's lie very still and quiet and hold each other and not think at all," he said and his heart said goodbye Catherine goodbye my lovely girl goodbye and good luck and goodbye.

But he was very worried now and he thought what will become of us if things have gone this wildly and this dangerously and this fast? What can there be that will not burn out in a fire that rages like this?

You're lucky to have a wife like her and a sin is what you feel bad after and you don't feel bad. Not with the wine you don't feel bad, he told himself, and what will you drink when the wine won't cover for you?

"You're awfully good. If I didn't love you for anything else I'd love you for your decisions."

He drank the hero drink but it did not taste so good and he ordered a fresh bottle of cold Perrier and made a short drink without ice.

What was it that she had said about destruction? He could not remember that. She'd said it but he could not remember it.

He loved her very much and everything about her and he went to sleep thinking about her cheek against his lips and how the next day they would both be darker from the sun and how dark can she become, he thought, and how dark will she ever really be?

"You know I haven't done anything bad to us. I had to do it. You know that."

Be careful, he said to himself, it is all very well for you to write simply and the simpler the better. But do not start to think so damned simply. Know how complicated it is and then state it simply.

At the cafe he found the morning paper and the Paris papers of the day before and had his coffee and milk and the Bayonne ham with a big beautifully fresh egg that he ground coarse pepper over sparsely and spread a little mustard on before he broke the yolk.

"What did you do, Devil?"

The waiter brought them glasses of manzanilla from the lowland near Cadiz called the Marismas with thin slices of jamon serrano, a smoky, hard cured ham from pigs that fed on acorns, and bright red spicy salchichon, another even spicier dark sausage from a town called Vich and anchovies and garlic olives. They ate these and drank more of the manzanilla, which was light and nutty tasting.

"I never wanted to be a painter nor a writer until I came to this country. Now it's just like being hungry all the time and there's nothing you can ever do about it."

"Yes," she said. "I was thinking so much about myself that I was getting impossible again, like a painter and I was my own picture. It was awful. Now that I'm all right again I hope it still lasts."

"Stay the way you are."
"What makes your voice be different when you say it? I think I'll do it now."
"No. Not now."
"Thank you for the not now."

She can't blush again, David thought. But she did.

"People that can't blush are worthless."

"You're not afraid of him now are you?" Catherine asked her.
"Not at all," the girl said. She blushed again. "It tastes very good but terribly strong."
"They are strong," David said. "But there's a strong wind today and we drink according to the wind."

"I hope she will be happy," the girl said. "Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."

"I wish I could remember what it was we lost. But it doesn't matter does it? You said it didn't matter."

"Perversion is dull and old fashioned. I didn't know people like us even kept up on it."
"I suppose it's only really interesting the first time one does," Catherine said.

It was a shame a man with such a talent for disaster and for delight should have gone the way he went, he thought.

"Do you want to swim down once before we go in?"
"Just once," she said. "In this very deep part."
"We'll swim down until we can just make it up."

They kissed and she said, "Everything of ours washed into the ocean."

His father was not vulnerable he knew and, unlike most people he had known, only death could kill him.

His father, who ran his life more disastrously than any man that he had ever known, gave marvelous advice.

"The hell with you too."
"That's good. Now you're reacting better. I like when you are more careless. Kiss me goodbye. I mean good afternoon."

"So what do you and I do?"
"What we can."

"I'll put on one of my tight shirts so you can tell what I think about things," she said.

"It's terrible to be in bed together and be lonely."

"You want everything so much and when you get it it's over and you don't give a damn."

He could not help wanting to read it with her and he could not help sharing what he had never shared and what he had believed could not and should not be shared.

I do love her and you make a note of it, whiskey, and you witness it for me, Perrier old boy old Perrier, I have been faithful to you, Perrier, in my fucking fashion.

"All I want to do is kill you," David said. "And the only reason I don't do it is because you are crazy."

I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word.

...he found that he still could be, and was, moved by her.