Dear Quotes - Page 12

• Listen, my dear Cors, why don't you forgive God for allowing pain? If He didn't allow it, human courage, bravery, nobility, and self-sacrifice would all be meaningless things.

  Walter M. Miller, Jr.

  Pain, Sacrifice, Self

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• The Bible did not arrive by fax from heaven. The Bible is the product of man, my dear. Not of God. The Bible did not fall magically from the clouds. Man created it as a historical record of tumultuous times, and it has evolved through countless translations, additions, and revisions. History has never had a definitive version of the book.

  Dan Brown

  Book, Fall, Men

  Dan Brown (2003). “The Da Vinci Code: A Novel”

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• My dear Tom, Delighted to get your letter. Do write again. This life is terrible and I don't understand how it can be endured.

  Samuel Beckett

  Writing, Letters, Life Is

  "Love, styes and stools" by Nicholas Lezard, www.theguardian.com. March 20, 2009.

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• Though a woman tempted man to eat, my dear Longfellow," said Holmes, "you never hear of Eve having to do with his drinking, for he took to that of his own notion.

  Matthew Pearl

  Drinking, Men, Holmes

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• There are three classes into which all the women past seventy that ever I knew were to be divided: 1. That dear old soul; 2. That old woman; 3. That old witch.

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  Time, Past, Class

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1835). “Specimens of the table talk of the late Samuel Taylor Coleridge”, p.233

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• There is power and there is power, my dear. My power can be vast, in the right places.

  Tamora Pierce

  Power, Right Place

  Tamora Pierce (2014). “Trickster's Duet”, p.481, Random House Books for Young Readers

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• Dear Friend: I have nearly died three times since morning.

  Marcel Proust

  Morning, Three, Dear Friend

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• My parents gave me the gift of irreligion, of growing up without bothering to ask people what gods they held dear, assuming that in fact, like my parents, they weren't interested in gods, and that this uninterest was 'normal.' You may argue that the gift was a poisoned chalice, but even if so, that's a cup from which I'd happily drink again.

  Salman Rushdie

  Growing Up, People, Parent

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• I ought not to doubt the steadiness of your affection. Yet such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest, and thus it is, that i always feel revived, as by a new convinction, when your words tell me I am dear to you; and wanting these, I relapse into doubt and often into despondency.

  Ann Radcliffe

  Real, Doubt, Affection

  Ann Radcliffe (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Ann Radcliffe (Illustrated)”, p.716, Delphi Classics

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• Death is a great price to pay for a red rose“, cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. “ It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent oft he hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?

  Oscar Wilde

  Sweet, Heart, Blow

  Oscar Wilde (2008). “Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde”, p.24, Penguin

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• Only insofar as you enjoy being sorry, my dear, which, while it is a considerable amount, occurs only after the fact, thus making it a singularly ineffective deterrent, yes?

  Jacqueline Carey

  Sorry, Facts, Enjoy

  Jacqueline Carey (2002). “Kushiel's Dart”, p.72, Macmillan

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• Oh dear,' said Eddie. 'We'd better hurry. Tinto, call me a cab.' All right,' said Tinto. 'You're a cab.

  Robert Rankin

  Said, Call Me, Cab

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• But perhaps this is all to the good. Perhaps it’s best to live with the possibility that around any corner, at any time, may come the person who reminds you of your own capacity to surprise yourself, to put at risk everything that’s dear to you. Who reminds you of the distances we have to bridge to begin to know anything about one another. Who reminds you that what seems to be—even about yourself—may not be. That like him, you need to be forgiven.

  Sue Miller

  Distance, Bridges, Risk

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• But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, "Courage, dear heart," and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan's, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.

  C. S. Lewis

  Heart, Voice, Smell

  C.S.Lewis (2016). “The Chronicles of Narnia Vol III: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader”, p.137, ENRICH CULTURE GROUP LIMITED

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• No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

  Gerard Manley Hopkins

  Fall, Blue, Shining

  Gerard Manley Hopkins (2001). “Poemas”, p.32, Editorial Renacimiento

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• So you mustn't be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety - like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in the palm of its hand and will not let you fall.

  Rainer Maria Rilke

  Faith, Fear, Moving

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• Terror is the instinct that tells you to run, dear God, run, she murmured. Run for your life. But it just makes you into meat. Predators take the ones who run. Horror is the mind-thing, the worm of knowledge you can't stop turning over no matter how awful it is. It grows in your mind and destroys you by your own intelligence.

  Kat Richardson

  Running, Mind, Meat

  Kat Richardson (2009). “Vanished: A Greywalker Novel”, p.136, Penguin

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• Dear Hitler Take away the torches I'm not guilty I had to have this

  Leonard Cohen

  Torches, Guilty, Not Guilty

  Leonard Cohen (2003). “The Favorite Game: A Novel”, Vintage Books

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• He had never really speculated about this before, since demons came in all shapes and sizes. Indeed, some of them came in more than one shape or size all by themselves, such as O'Dear, the Demon of People Who Look in Mirrors and Think They're Overweight, and his twin, O'Really, the Demon of People Who Look in Mirrors and Think They're Slim When They're Not.

  John Connolly

  Thinking, Mirrors, People

  John Connolly (2010). “The Gates: A Samuel Johnson Tale”, p.97, Simon and Schuster

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• It's awful to be rich and mind-boggingly handsome and have women fawn over you. My heart bleeds for you. Poor dear, how do you manage?

  Ilona Andrews

  Heart, Over You, Mind

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• Dear God, I am so afraid to open my clenched fists! Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to? Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands? Please help me to gradually open my hands and to discover that I am not what I own, but what you want to give me.

  Henri Nouwen

  Hands, Giving, Want

  Henri J.M. Nouwen (2017). “You Are the Beloved: Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living”, Convergent Books

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• I therefore invite you all," Mr Fox went on, 'to stay here with me for ever.' For ever!' they cried. 'My goodness! How marvellous!' And Rabbit said to Mrs Rabbit, 'My dear, just think! We're never going to be shot again in our lives!' We will make,' said Mr Fox, 'a little underground village, with streets and houses on each side - seperate houses for Badgers and Moles and Rabbits and Weasels and Foxes. And every day I will go shopping for you all. And every day we will eat like kings.' The cheering that followed this speech went on for many minutes.

  Roald Dahl

  Kings, Cheer, Thinking

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• I thought I'd pay you a visit, my dear. Since you're so interesting." My mouth shifted into high gear, leaving my brain behind. "You know, you're the second guy in a few days to call me that. You should be more creative.

  Lilith Saintcrow

  Interesting, Creative, Guy

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• There was a tale he had read once, long ago, as a small boy: the story of a traveler who had slipped down a cliff, with man-eating tigers above him and a lethal fall below him, who managed to stop his fall halfway down the side of the cliff, holding on for dear life. There was a clump of strawberries beside him, and certain death above him and below. What should he do? went the question. And the reply was, Eat the strawberries. The story had never made sense to him as a boy. It did now.

  Neil Gaiman

  Fall, Boys, Men

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• I like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love; I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me.

  Charlotte Bronte

  Flower, Hands, Wish

  Charlotte Bronte (2016). “Villette”, p.327, Xist Publishing

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