Afternoon Quotes - Page 4

• When a child asks you something, answer him, for goodness’ sake. But don’t make a production of it. Children are children, but they can spot an evasion quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles ‘em. No... you had the right answer this afternoon, but the wrong reasons. Bad language is a stage all children go through, and it dies with time when they learn they’re not attracting attention with it. Hotheadedness isn’t.

  Harper Lee

  Children, Tkam, Sake

  "To Kill a Mockingbird". Book by Harper Lee, July 11, 1960.

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• It was one of those perfect New York October afternoons, when the explosion of oranges and yellows against the bright blue sky makes you feel like your life is passing through your fingers, that you've felt this autumn-feeling before and you'll probably get to feel it again, but one day you won't anymore, because you'll be dead.

  Sarah Dunn

  New York, Autumn, Blue

  Sarah Dunn (2010). “Secrets To Happiness”, p.23, Hachette UK

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• And it sort of jogged a memory of something that I read at school and I read it, and I thought God this is it. So you never can tell. I could find something this afternoon.

  Andrew Lloyd Webber

  Memories, School, Jogging

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• Spirituality is the sacred center out of which all life comes, including Mondays and Tuesdays and rainy Saturday afternoons in all their mundane and glorious detail....The spiritual journey is the soul's life commingling with ordinary life.

  Christina Baldwin

  Mom, Spiritual, Monday

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• Why spend the afternoon making a meal that will be gone in an hour," she'd ask us, "when in the same amount of time, I can do a painting that will last forever?

  Jeannette Walls

  Forever, Meals, Gone

  Jeannette Walls (2009). “The Glass Castle: A Memoir”, p.56, Simon and Schuster

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• I sleep all day. Noises flit around the house- garbage truck in the alley, rain, tree rapping against the bedroom window. I sleep. I inhabit sleep firmly, willing it, wielding it, pushing away dreams, refusing, refusing. Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion. [...] It is afternoon, it is night, it is morning. Everything is reduced to this bed, this endless slumber that makes the days into one day, makes time stop, stretches and compacts time until it is meaningless.

  Audrey Niffenegger

  Dream, Morning, Rap

  Audrey Niffenegger (2014). “The Time Traveler's Wife”, p.513, Simon and Schuster

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• I used to say the evening that I developed the first x-ray photograph I took of insulin in 1935 was the most exciting moment of my life. But the Saturday afternoon in late July 1969, when we realized that the insulin electron density map was interpretable, runs that moment very close.

  Dorothy Hodgkin

  Running, July, Rays

  Dorothy Hodgkin, Guy Dodson (1994). “The collected works of Dorothy Crowfoot Hodgkin”

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• A good umpire is the umpire you don't even notice. He's there all afternoon but when the game is over, you don't even remember his name.

  Ban Johnson

  Games, Umpires, Names

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• Saturday afternoon, although occurring at regular and well-foreseen intervals, always takes this railway by surprise.

  W. S. Gilbert

  Luck, Surprise, Saturday

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• I was quite depressed two weeks ago when I spent an afternoon at Brentano's Bookshop in New York and was looking at the kind of books most people read. That seems to be hopeless; once you see that you lose all hope.

  Friedrich August von Hayek

  New York, Book, Two

  "The Road from Serfdom". Interview with Thomas Winslow Hazlett, reason.com. July 1992.

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• All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, By little arms are plied, While little hands make vain pretence Our wanderings to guide.

  Lewis Carroll

  Hands, Skills, Arms

  Lewis Carroll (1913). “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland”, p.3, PDFreeBooks.org

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• Imagine you are walking down a leafy path...The sun is receding, and you are walking alone, caressed by the breezy light of the late afternoon. Then suddenly, you feel a large drop on your right arm. Is it raining? You look up. The sky is still deceptively sunny...seconds later another drop. Then, with the sun still perched in the sky, you are drenched in a shower of rain. This is how memories invade me, abruptly and unexpectedly.

  Azar Nafisi

  Memories, Rain, Light

  Azar Nafisi (2003). “Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books”, p.59, Random House

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• I used to feel guilty about spending morning hours working on a book; about fleeing to the brook in the afternoon. It took several summers of being totally frazzled by September to make me realize that this was a false guilt. I'm much more use to family and friends when I'm not physically and spiritually depleted than when I spend my energies as though they were unlimited. They are not. The time at the typewriter and the time at the brook refresh me and put me into a more workable perspective.

  Madeleine L'Engle

  Summer, Morning, Book

  Madeleine L'Engle (2016). “The Summer of the Great-Grandmother”, p.33, Open Road Media

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• One afternoon, when I was four years old, my father came home, and he found me in the living room in front of a roaring fire, which made him very angry. Because we didn't have a fireplace.

  Victor Borge

  Father, Home, Fire

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• After the dress rehearsal that afternoon, someone had misplaced the vial of poison, and for lack of better, Romeo would have to commit suicide by eating Tic Tacs.

  Anne Fortier

  Suicide, Poison, Rehearsal

  Anne Fortier (2010). “Juliet: A Novel”, p.5, Ballantine Books

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• It is strange how sad it can be - sunlight in the afternoon, don't you think?

  Jean Rhys

  Thinking, Strange, Sunlight

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• It is a delicious thing to write, to be no longer yourself but to move in an entire universe of your own creating. Today, for instance, as man and woman, both lover and mistress, I rode in a forest on an autumn afternoon under the yellow leaves, and I was also the horses, the leaves, the wind, the words my people uttered, even the red sun that made them almost close their love-drowned eyes.

  Gustave Flaubert

  Horse, Moving, Eye

  "Scenes from a provincial life" by AS Byatt, www.theguardian.com. July 27, 2002.

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• Yes, she is in love with him, and yes, in spite of his qualms and inner hesitations, he loves her back, however improbable that might seem to him. Note here for the record that he is not someone with a special fixation on young girls. Until now, all the women in his life have been more or less his own age. Pilar therefore does not represent an embodiment of some ideal female type for him--she is merely herself, a small piece of luck he stumbled across one afternoon in a public park, an exception to every rule.

  Paul Auster

  Girl, Luck, Age

  Paul Auster (2016). “Collected Novels Volume Four”, p.400, Faber & Faber

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• For instance, if you come at four in the afternoon, I'll begin to be happy by three. The closer it gets to four, the happier I'll feel. By four I'll be excited and worried; I'll discover what it costs to be happy! But if you come at any od time, I'll never know when I should prepare my heart... There must be rites.

  Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  Heart, Three, Cost

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• ...and so many orchards circled the village that on some crisp October afternoons the whole wold smelled like pie.

  Alice Hoffman

  Pie, Village, October

  Alice Hoffman (1999). “Here on Earth”, p.5, Penguin Group

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• A shaft of sunlight at the end of a dark afternoon, a note of music, and the way the back of a baby’s neck smells if it’s mother keeps it tidy,” answered Henry. “Correct,” said Stuart. “Those are the important things. You forgot one thing, though. Mary Bendix, what did Henry Rackmeyer forget?” “He forgot ice cream with chocolate sauce on it,” said Mary quickly.

  E. B. White

  Mother, Baby, Dark

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• Somehow the bright beauty had gone from April afternoon and from her heart as well and the sad sweetness of remembering was as bitter as gall.

  Margaret Mitchell

  Heart, Gone, April

  Margaret Mitchell (1975). “Gone With the Wind”, MacMillan Publishing Company

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• I asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness. And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men. They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them. And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along the Desplaines river and I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with their women and children and a keg of beer and an accordion.

  Carl Sandburg

  Children, Beer, Sunday

  Carl Sandburg, (2013). “Chicago Poems”, p.27, Read Books Ltd

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• This is the autumn of wonders, yet every day, every single day, I go back to that burned afternoon in August when T. Ray left. I go back to that one moment when I stood in the driveway with small rocks and clumps of dirt around my feet and looked back at the porch. And there they were. All these mothers. I have more mothers than any eight girls off the street. They are the moons shining over me.

  Sue Monk Kidd

  Girl, Mother, Autumn

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• Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmoniously above the willow. May came too soon, and suddenly unable to bear walls, he wandered the campus at all hours through starlight and rain.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Wall, Spring, Rain

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.148, e-artnow

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