Lit Quotes - Page 7

• It can be hard for the cute girl. I was blond, cute, broke. I was beat up. I was thrown inside lockers. I was burned with cigarettes. My hair was lit on fire.

  Jenny McCarthy

  Cute, Girl, Fire

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• The candle of liberty has always been kept lit by a vigilant few.

  Russell Pearce

  Liberty, Vigilant, Candle

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• I don't read 'chick lit,' fantasy or science fiction but I'll give any book a chance if it's lying there and I've got half an hour to kill.

  J. K. Rowling

  Lying, Book, Giving

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• Bashful=Spanish, Miss Gardenia Doc=Psychology, Mr. Wang Happy=Chemistry 2, Mr. Durbin Dopey=English Lit., Mr. Purcell Dippy=Math, Mrs. Craig Dumbass=PE, Coach Crater

  Lisa McMann

  Math, Missing, Psychology

  Lisa McMann (2009). “Fade”, p.42, Simon and Schuster

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• Sitting on the floor, I'd replay the past in my head. Funny, that's all I did, day after day after day for half a year, and I never tired of it. What I'd been through seemed so vast, with so many facets. Vast, but real, very real, which was why the experience persisted in towering before me, like a monument lit up at night. And the thing was, it was a monument to me.

  Haruki Murakami

  Real, Tired, Past

  FaceBook post by Haruki Murakami from Nov 12, 2014

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• I am not yours, nor lost in you, not lost, although I long to be. Lost as a candle lit at noon, lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still a spirit beautiful and bright, yet I am I, who long to be lost as a light is lost in light.

  Sara Teasdale

  Beautiful, Light, Sea

  Sara Teasdale (1937). “Collected poems”

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• In Venice in the Middle Ages there was once a profession for a man called a codega--a fellow you hired to walk in front of you at night with a lit lantern, showing you the way, scaring off thieves and demons, bringing you confidence and protection through the dark streets.

  Elizabeth Gilbert

  Dark, Night, Men

  Elizabeth Gilbert (2010). “The Complete Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat, Pray, Love; Committed; The Last American Man; Stern Men & Pilgrims”, p.101, A&C Black

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• Like wind-- In it, with it, of it. Of it just like a sail, so light and strong that, even when it is bent flat, it gathers all the power of the wind without hampering its course. Like light-- In light, lit through by light, transformed into light. Like the lens which disappears in the light it focuses. Like wind. Like light. Just this--on these expanses, on these heights.

  Dag Hammarskjold

  Strong, Light, Wind

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• The front door shut, leaving Alec sitting in the half-lit garden, alone. He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of a face hovering behind his lids. Not Jace's face, for a change. The eyes set in the face were green, slit-pupiled. Cat eyes.

  Cassandra Clare

  Cat, Eye, Garden

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (3 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass”, p.880, Simon and Schuster

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• Brief is this existence, as a visit in a strange house. The path to be pursued is poorly lit by a flickering consciousness.

  Albert Einstein

  House, Path, Strange

  Albert Einstein (2010). “The Ultimate Quotable Einstein”, p.93, Princeton University Press

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• Tell you what.' Alec reached for a second seraph blade. 'We live through this, and I promise I'll introduce you to my whole family.' Magnus raised his hands, his fingers shining with individual azure flames. They lit his grin with a fiery blue glow. 'It's a deal.

  Cassandra Clare

  Blue, Flames, Hands

  Cassandra Clare (2012). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instruments Series (5 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass; City of Fallen Angels, City of Lost Souls”, p.1103, Simon and Schuster

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• The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. "My name's Peter. Can I play too?

  Brom

  Boys, Hands, Play

  Brom (2009). “The Child Thief: A Novel”, p.27, Harper Collins

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• I should have guessed you were Jace's sister," he said. "You both have the same artistic talent." Clary paused, her foot on the lowest stair. She was taken aback. "Jace can draw?" Nah." When Alec smiled, his eyes lit like blue lamps and Clary could see what Magnus had found so captivating about him. "I was just kidding. He can't draw a straight line.

  Cassandra Clare

  Taken, Eye, Blue

  Cassandra Clare (2012). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instruments Series (5 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass; City of Fallen Angels, City of Lost Souls”, p.455, Simon and Schuster

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• When a writer looked at an empty computer screen, what did she see? Tristan wondered. A movie screen ready to be lit with faces? A night sky with one small star blinking at the top, a universe ready to be written on? Endless possibilities. Love's endless twists and turns - and all love's impossibilities.

  Elizabeth Chandler

  Stars, Night, Sky

  Elizabeth Chandler (2011). “Kissed by an Angel”, p.299, Pan Macmillan

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• Of course the Man was wild too. He was dreadfully wild. He didn't even begin to be tame till he met the Woman, and she told him that she did not like living in his wild ways. She picked out a nice dry Cave, instead of a heap of wet leaves, to lie down in; and she strewed clean sand on the floor; and she lit a nice fire of wood at the back of the Cave; and she hung a dried wild-horse skin, tail down, across the opening of the Cave; and she said, 'Wipe your feet, dear, when you come in, and now we'll keep house.

  Rudyard Kipling

  Horse, Nice, Lying

  Rudyard Kipling (2017). “The Cat that Walked by Himself (English French Edition illustrated): Le Chat qui s’en va tout seul (Anglais Français édition illustré)”, p.3, Clap Publishing, LLC.

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• Can anything harm us, mother, after the night-lights are lit?" Nothing, precious," she said; "they are the eyes a mother leaves behind her to guard her children.

  James M. Barrie

  Mother, Children, Eye

  James M. Barrie (2015). “Peter Pan: Top 100 Classic Novels”, p.15, 谷月社

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• ...despite all this, it is still hard to admit that there is no one more English than the Indian, no one more Indian than the English. There are still young white men who are angry about that; who will roll out at closing time into the poorly lit streets with a kitchen knife wrapped in a tight fist. But it makes an immigrant laugh to hear the fears of the nationalist, scared of infection, penetration, miscegenation, when this is small fry, peanuts, compared to what the immigrant fears - dissolution, disappearance.

  Zadie Smith

  Men, White Man, Knives

  Zadie Smith (2003). “White Teeth”, p.272, Vintage

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• The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments, and the rest is dark. When you look closely, the twenty-four hour day is framed into a moment; the still-life of the jerky amphetamine world. That woman-a pieta. Those men, rough angels with an unknown message. The children holding hands, spanning time. And in every still-life, there is a story, the story that tells you everything you need to know.

  Jeanette Winterson

  Children, Lying, Angel

  Jeanette Winterson (2006). “Lighthousekeeping”, p.143, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• She threw the door open. The room seemed to be a sort of library, the walls lined with books. It was brightly lit, light streaming through a tall picture window. In the middle of the room stood Jace. He wasn't alone, though-not by a long shot. There was a dark-haired girl with him, a girl Clary had never seen before, and the two of them were locked together in a passionate embrace

  Cassandra Clare

  Girl, Wall, Book

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (3 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass”, p.903, Simon and Schuster

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• (about organizing books in his home library, and putting a book in the "Arts and Lit non-fiction section) I personally find that for domestic purposes, the Trivial Pursuit system works better than Dewey.

  Nick Hornby

  Art, Book, Home

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• The candle is not lit To give light, but to testify to the night.

  Robert Bly

  Night, Light, Giving

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• The continuous narrative of existence is a lie. There is no continuous narrative, there are lit-up moments, and the rest is dark.

  Jeanette Winterson

  Lying, Dark, Narrative

  Jeanette Winterson (2006). “Lighthousekeeping”, p.143, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Our colleges ought to have lit up in us a lasting relish for a better kind of man, a loss of appetite for mediocrities.

  William James

  Loss, College, Men

  William James (1987). “Essays, Comments, and Reviews”, p.108, Harvard University Press

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• I kiss her and she finds the light switch and turns it off, and we're just lit in Pepsi-can colors and it's like we've finally found this other kind of conversation, this conversation in gestures and pulls and pushes and breaths and grasps and teases and glimmers and rubs and expectation.

  David Levithan

  Kissing, Light, Color

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• I was in my house, alone in the living room, anxious about you, watching the flashes of lightning. And a flash of lightning lit up this truth for me, right in front of my eye. That night i lost you, I lost something inside me. Or perhaps several things. Something central to my existence, the very support for who I am as a person

  Haruki Murakami

  Eye, Night, Who I Am

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