Lost Quotes - Page 34

• Still, there was also was something reassuring about working for Commercial, almost hopeful. Like things that were lost could be found again. As we drove away, I always tried to imagine what it would be like to open your door to find something you had given up on.

  Sarah Dessen

  Doors, Hopeful, Would Be

  Sarah Dessen (2008). “Lock and Key”, p.27, Penguin

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• When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. That's my middle-west - not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Real, Dark, Winter

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “The Great Gatsby: The Authentic Edition from Fitzgerald’s Original Publisher: The authentic edition from Fitzgerald’s original publisher”, p.138, Simon and Schuster

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• There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth-yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams...... And he could not tell why the struggle was worth while, why he had determined to use to the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed... He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky. I know myself," he cried, "but that is all.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Dream, Pain, Memories

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2016). “This Side of Paradise”, p.222, Xist Publishing

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• But later that day, the streets of Kweilin were strewn with newspapers reporting great Kuomintang victories, and on top of these papers, like fresh fish from a butcher, lay rows of people - men, women and children who had never lost hope, but had lost their lives instead.

  Amy Tan

  Children, Men, People

  Amy Tan (2006). “The Joy Luck Club: A Novel”, p.19, Penguin

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• ...maybe a damned good night's sleep will bring me back to a gentle sanity. But at the moment, I look about this room and, like myself, it's all in disarray: things fallen out of place, cluttered, jumbled, lost, knocked over and I can't put it straight, don't want to. Perhaps living through these petty days will get us ready for the dangerous ones.

  Charles Bukowski

  Good Night, Sleep, Looks

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• Not only had he lost the only girl he'd ever loved, he'd lost her in duplicate, like some heartbroken but highly efficient civil servant.

  Tom Holt

  Girl, Heartbroken, Servant

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• We aren't in high school. We aren't really in our families and we aren't in our houses. Those are the places we grew up and the times we spent together, but they aren't us. If think they are, then we're lost, because times end and places are lost. We aren't any place or any time . . . We are everywhere.

  Ann Brashares

  School, Thinking, House

  Ann Brashares (2012). “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Complete Collection”, p.989, Delacorte Press

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• I sat there for three hours and did not feel the time or the boredom of our talk and its foolish disconnection. As long as I could hear his voice, I was quite lost, quite blind, quite outside my own self.

  Anais Nin

  Self, Voice, Long

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• She conceived of life as a road down which one traveled, an easy enough road through a broad country, and that one's destination was there from the very beginning, a measured distance away, standing in the ordinary light like some plain house where one went in and was greeted by respectable people and was shown to a room where everything one had ever lost or put aside was gathered together, waiting.

  Marilynne Robinson

  Country, Distance, Light

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• In losing a friend, she is reminded of all she has lost and all she stands to lose again. There is nothing to be done to make it any easier. We all grieve alone.

  Alice Hoffman

  Grieving, Losing Friends, Done

  Alice Hoffman (2007). “Incantation”, p.34, Hachette UK

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• I thought you were supposed to be the champion of your people,' I said. I live because I need to do that. For anyone who is left.' Don't you see? No one will be left. Protect them now or there will be no one to protect!' This is a battle that goes on and on. It never ends. You're too young to understand. No! You're too much of a coward to fight.' I was sick of lies and secrets and of battles so old we had to erase who we were to fight back. And still we lost. Still we were tied to posts.

  Alice Hoffman

  Lying, Fighting, People

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• Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot -- For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store -- But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more --

  Emily Dickinson

  Shoes, Feet, Patents

  Emily Dickinson (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Emily Dickinson (Illustrated)”, p.601, Delphi Classics

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• There was but one thing for him;- to persevere till he got her, or till he had finally lost her. And should the latter be his fate, as he began to fear that it would be, then, he would live, but live only, like a crippled man.

  Anthony Trollope

  Fate, Men, Would Be

  Anthony Trollope (2016). “The Way We Live Now”, p.63, Anthony Trollope

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• Americans love to pick up, move on, start over. But instead of being somebody fresh and new, they become somebody lonely and lost, or, far too often these days, they become nobody at all, a machine for satisfying hunger, without loyalty or honor or duty.

  Orson Scott Card

  Loyalty, Lonely, Moving

  Orson Scott Card (2005). “Enchantment”, p.172, Del Rey

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• Where had I been that I didn't know about imaginary friends? I could see the point of it. How a lost part of yourself steps out and remind you who you could be with a little work.

  Sue Monk Kidd

  Littles, Steps, Imaginary Friend

  Sue Monk Kidd (2003). “The Secret Life of Bees”, p.246, Penguin

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• Andy Dufresne: 'That's the beauty of music. They can't get that from you...haven't you ever felt that way about music?' Red: 'I played a mean harmonica as a younger man. Lost interest in it though. Didn't make much sense in here.' Andy: 'Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget.' Red: 'Forget?' Andy: 'Forget that...there are places in this world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside...that they can't get to, that they can't touch. That's yours.' Red: 'What're you talking about?' Andy: 'Hope.'

  Stephen King

  Mean, Men, Talking

  "Fictional characters: Andy Dufresne and Ellis Boyd 'Red' Redding". "The Shawshank Redemption", www.imdb.com. 1994.

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• Dear Complete and Utter Stranger, The first thing that I have to say is that I hate oatmeal. I really hate it. And you know what? If you like oatmeal at all? I mean even the tiniest bit? I mean, say you were lost in the Himalayas, right, and you hadn't eaten anything except a Mars Bar for about seven years, right, and you're really cold and your fingers are all dropping off, right, and you look behind this rock, and there's this bowl of oatmeal? Say you would even think about eating the oatmeal? Well, JUST DON'T BOTHER WRITING TO ME, OKAY?

  Jaclyn Moriarty

  Hate, Mean, Writing

  Jaclyn Moriarty (2014). “Feeling Sorry for Celia: A Novel”, p.10, St. Martin's Press

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• Well, when one's lost, I suppose it's good advice to stay where you are until someone finds you.

  Lewis Carroll

  Advice, Where You Are, Wells

  "Fictional character: Alice". "Alice in Wonderland", 1951.

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• I just lost a buttonhole.

  Steven Wright

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• Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!

  Edgar Allan Poe

  Ravens, Kind, Forget

  Edgar Allan Poe, Brod Bagert (1995). “Edgar Allan Poe”, p.17, Sterling Publishing Company, Inc.

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• You shall be my roots and I will be your shade, though the sun burns my leaves. You shall quench my thirst and I will feed you fruit, though time takes my seed. And when I'm lost and can tell nothing of this earth you will give me hope. And my voice you will always hear. And my hand you will always have. For I will shelter you. And I will comfort you. And even when we are nothing left, not even in death, I will remember you.

  Mark Z. Danielewski

  Remember You, Remembers You, Hands

  Mark Z. Danielewski (2000). “Mark Z. Danielewski's House of leaves”

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• I hadn't understood how days could be both long and short at the same time: long to live through, maybe, but so drawn out that they ended up flowing into one another. They lost their names. Only 'yesterday' and 'tomorrow' still had any meaning for me.

  Albert Camus

  Names, Yesterday, Long

  Albert Camus (2012). “The Stranger”, p.80, Vintage

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• You panicked". Venetia's voice is suddenly throbbing, as though she can't control a long-buried anger. "You panicked, Luke, and we lost the best relationship that we had. Everyone was jealous of us at Cambridge, everyone. We were perfect together." We weren't perfect!" He looks at her incredulously. "And I didn't panic---" You did! You couldn't cope with the commitment! It frightened you!" It did not frighten me!" Luke shouts, exasperated. "It made me realize you weren't the person I wanted to have children with. Or spend the rest of my life with. Ever. And that's why I ended it!

  Sophie Kinsella

  Children, Jealous, Commitment

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• Only then did I see. Something was amiss with Patrick's snap-on one piece, or "onesie" as we manly dads like to call it. His chubby thighs, I now realized, were squeezed into the armholes, which were so tight they must have been cutting off his circulation. The collared neck hung between his legs like an udder. Up top, Patrick's head stuck out through the unsnapped crotch, and his arms were lost somewhere in the billowing pant legs. It was quite a look.

  John Grogan

  Dad, Cutting, Looks

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• He exulted in the possession of himself once more; he realized how much of the delight of the world he had lost when he was absorbed in that madness which they called love; he had had enough of it; he did not want to be in love anymore if love was that.

  W. Somerset Maugham

  Delight, World, Want

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