hollyslowly: Witchblade; Danny and Pez share coffee. (If the truth hurts you ain't livin right)
[personal profile] hollyslowly
In the interests of uncluttering my desktop, a collection of quotes that I have saved in a thousand various .rtf files.
Page 3 of 3 << [1] [2] [3] >>

Date: 2012-07-20 12:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
We talk a lot, in feminist communities, about abuse. And we talk a lot about how oppression can warp your understanding of self, about how some people raised in an oppressive system will internalize that system. We talk about how people who are victims of abuse often perpetrate it. I just don’t think we were prepared to see that play itself out on Mad Men. We wanted Betty to read The Feminine Mystique and get her mind blown and rise above; or, we wanted her to stay a victim, so we could relate to her better, or at least keep feeling sorry for her. But sometimes, people just get damaged until they start damaging. Sometimes, people are lost. We hate Betty now because she’s not going to stay a victim, but the truth is, she’s also not going to be saved.

No-One's Ever On Your Side.

Date: 2012-07-25 01:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
For a moment he hesitated as if debating whether a kind lie were kinder in the long run than the truth. Then he shrugged.

“Scarlett, I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken — and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived. Perhaps, if I were younger —” he sighed. “But I’m too old to believe in such sentimentalities as clean slates and starting all over. I’m too old to shoulder the burden of constant lies that go with living in polite disillusionment. I couldn’t live with you and lie to you and I certainly couldn’t lie to myself. I can’t even lie to you now. I wish I could care what you do or where you go, but I can’t.”

He drew a short breath and said lightly but softly:

“My dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Gone With the Wind, Margaret Mitchell.

Date: 2012-08-16 12:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
Peace is not something you wish for. It is something you make, something you are, something you do, and something you give away.

Robert Fulghum.
Edited Date: 2012-08-16 12:50 am (UTC)

Date: 2012-09-09 07:49 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
you were like an ulcer on the inside of my cheek
that my tongue could not stop touching.
loving you was like watching a stranger clean
a week old wound;
i felt sick, but i wanted more.

warsan shire.
Edited Date: 2012-09-09 07:52 pm (UTC)

Date: 2012-09-09 07:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

Ulysses, James Joyce.
Edited Date: 2012-09-09 07:54 pm (UTC)

Date: 2012-09-09 07:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
What is it you’re unable to surrender and please
may I have that
, is how every love letter can be summarized.

“Past-Perfect-Impersonal," Russell Dillon.
Edited Date: 2012-09-09 07:54 pm (UTC)

Date: 2013-02-15 11:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
--I don't even know you.
--You know me. I'm the same as you. It's two in the morning and I don't know nobody.

The Sting (1973).

Date: 2013-02-15 11:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
You should have killed him the moment you noticed that it mattered to you whether he lived or died.

The Gift of an Enemy, Sylvia.

Date: 2013-02-15 11:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
It would take my pride. I think I'd rather starve.

North & South, 2004.

Date: 2013-02-15 11:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
Do you know what love is? I’ll tell you: it is whatever you can still betray.

The Looking Glass War, John le Carre

Date: 2013-02-16 12:00 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
"I am what you designed me to be. I am your blade. You cannot now complain if you also feel the hurt."

Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.

Date: 2013-02-17 08:51 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I loved her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.

Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.

Date: 2013-05-05 10:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
It’s just so strange.
You used to love me,
and now you’re a stranger
who happens to know all
of my secrets.

Clementine von Radics.

Date: 2013-05-11 05:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
though my soul may set in darkness,
it will rise in perfect light.

i have loved the stars too fondly
to be fearful of the night.

“the old astronomer” - sarah williams

Date: 2013-05-12 03:09 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
So wherever you are, I hope you’re happy,
I really do.
I hope the stars are kissing your cheeks tonight.
I hope you finally found a way to quit smoking.
I hope your lungs are open and breathing your life.
I hope there’s a kite in your hand
that’s flying all the way up to Orion
and you still got a thousand yards of string to let out.
I hope you’re smiling
like god is pulling at the corners of your mouth.
‘Cause I might be naked and lonely,
shaking branches for bones,
but I’m still time zones away
from who I was the day before we met.
You were the first mile
where my heart broke a sweat.
And I wish you were here
I wish you’d never left.

Andrea Gibson

Date: 2016-08-07 06:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed by the truth.

Carl Sagan

Date: 2016-09-30 01:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
Sometimes as I am falling asleep in a dark, quiet room I have for a moment a great and treasurable illusion of the past. The wall of a tent leans up over my face, not visible but audible, a slanting plane of faint sound: the susurrus of blown snow. Nothing can be seen. The light-emission of the Chabe stove is cut off, and it exists only as a sphere of heat, a heart of warmth. The faint dampness and confining cling of my sleeping-bag; the sound of the snow, barely audible, Estraven’s breathing as he sleeps; darkness. Nothing else. We are inside, the two of us, in shelter, at rest, at the center of all things. Outside, as always, lies the great darkness, the cold, death’s solitude.

In such fortunate moments as I fall asleep I know beyond doubt what the real center of my own life is, that time that is past and lost and yet is permanent, the enduring moment, the heart of warmth.

I am not trying to say that I was happy, during those weeks of hauling a sledge across an ice-sheet in the dead of winter. I was hungry, overstrained, and often anxious, and it all got worse the longer it went on. I certainly wasn’t happy. Happiness has to do with reason, and only reason earns it. What I was given was the thing you can’t earn, and can’t keep, and often don’t even recognize at the time; I mean joy.

The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin.

Date: 2016-10-21 01:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] formanymiles.livejournal.com
The Agricola (written ca. 98) recounts the life of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, an eminent Roman general and Tacitus' father-in-law; it also covers, briefly, the geography andethnography of ancient Britain. As in the Germania, Tacitus favorably contrasts the liberty of the native Britons with the tyranny and corruption of the Empire; the book also contains eloquent polemics against the greed of Rome, one of which, that Tacitus claims is from a speech by Calgacus, ends by asserting that Auferre trucidare rapere falsis nominibus imperium, atque ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant. (To ravage, to slaughter, to usurp under false titles, they call empire; and where they make a desert, they call it peace. — Oxford Revised Translation).
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