“It's funny about love', Sophia said. 'The more you love someone, the less he likes you back.'
'That's very true,' Grandmother observed. 'And so what do you do?'
'You go on loving,' said Sophia threateningly. 'You love harder and harder.”
“It was a particularly good evening to begin a book.”
“The thing about God, she thought, is that He usually does help, but not until you've made an effort on your own.”
“It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive. It has come to a standstill; nothing withers, and fall is not ready to begin. There are no stars yet, just darkness.”
“Smell is important. It reminds a person of all the things he's been through; it is a sheath of memories and security.”
“Gathering is peculiar, because you see nothing but what you're looking for. If you're picking raspberries, you see only what's red, and if you're looking for bones you see only the white. No matter where you go, the only thing you see is bones.”
“An island can be dreadful for someone from outside. Everything is complete, and everyone has his obstinate, sure and self-sufficient place. Within their shores, everything functions according to rituals that are as hard as rock from repetition, and at the same time they amble through their days as whimsically and casually as if the world ended at the horizon.”
“Why are you in such a rush?" Sophia asked, and her grandmother answered that it was a good idea to do things before you forgot that they had to be done.”
“I can dive", Sophia said. "Do you know what it feels like when you dive?"
Of course I do," her grandmother said. "You let go of everything and get ready and just dive. You can feel the seaweed against your legs. It's brown, and the water's clear, lighter towards the top, with lots of bubbles. And you glide. You hold your breath and glide and turn and come up, let yourself rise and breathe out. And then you float. Just float."
And all the time with your eyes open," Sophia said.
Naturally. People don't dive with their eyes shut."
Do you believe I can dive without me showing you?" the child asked.
Yes, of course", Grandmother said.”
“Small animals are a great problem. I wish God had never created small animals, or else that He had made them so they could talk, or else that He'd given them better faces. Space. Take moths. They fly at the lamp and burn themsleves, and then they fly right back again. It can't be instinct, because it isn't the way it works. They just don't understand, so they go right on doing it. Then they lie on their backs and all their legs quiver, and then they're dead. Did you get all that? Does it sound good?"
"Very good," Grandmother said.
Sophia stood up and shouted, "Say this: say I hate everything that dies slow! Say I hate everything that won't let you help! Did you write that?”
“A very long time ago, Grandmother had wanted to tell about all the things they did, but no one had bothered to ask. And now she had lost the urge.”
“And all you can do is just read," she said. She raised her voice an screamed, "You just read and read and read!" Then she threw herself down on the table and wept.”
“Sophia and Grandmother sat down by the shore to discuss the matter further. It was a pretty day, and the sea was running a long, windless swell. It was on days just like this--dog days--that boats went sailing off all by themselves. Large, alien objects made their way in from sea, certain things sank and others rose, milk soured, and dragonflies danced in desperation. Lizards were not afraid. When the moon came up, red spiders mated on uninhabited skerries, where the rock became an unbroken carpet of tiny, ecstatic spiders.”
“Wise as she was, she realized that people can postpone their rebellious phases until they're eighty-five years old, and she decided to keep an eye on herself.”
“For a while she considered being ill, but she changed her mind...”
“Sometimes people never saw things clearly until it was too late and they no longer had the strength to start again. Or else they forgot their idea along the way and didn't even realize that they had forgotten”
“It's funny about me,' Sophia said. 'I always feel like such a nice girl whenever there's a storm.'
"'You do?' Grandmother said. 'Well, maybe ...' Nice, she thought. No. I'm certainly not nice. The best you could say of me is that I'm interested. [pp. 150-151]”
“It's a funny thing about bogs. You can fill them with rocks and sand and old logs and make a little fenced-in yard on top with a woodpile and chopping block - but bogs go right on behaving like bogs. Early in the spring they breathe ice and make their own mist, in remembrance of the time when they had black water and their own sedge blossoming untouched.”
“Grandmother walked up over the bare granite and thought about birds in general. It seemed to her no other creature had the same dramatic capacity to underline and perfect events -- the shifts in the seasons and the weather, the changes that run through people themselves. p.33”
“Malander had an idea and was trying to work it out, but it would take him time. Sometimes people never saw things clearly until it was too late and they no longer had the strength to start again. Or else they forgot their idea along the way and didn't even realise that they forgotten.”
“Every year, the bright Scandinavian summer nights fade without anyone's noticing. One evening in August you have an errand outdoors, and all of a sudden it's pitch-black. It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive.”
“Now everything was changed. She walked about with cautious, anxious steps, staring constantly at the ground, on the lookout for things that crept and crawled. Bushes were dangerous, and so were sea grass and rain water. There were little animals everywhere. They could turn up between the covers of a book, flattened and dead, for the fact is that creeping animals, tattered animals, and dead animals are with us all our lives, from beginning to end. Grandmother tried to discuss this with her, to no avail. Irrational terror is so hard to deal with. [p. 136]”
“Even potted plants got to be a responsibility, like everything else you took care of that couldn't make decisions for itself.”
“София се възползва от най-лесния изход за нуждаещите се и ужасените - тя заспа.”
“Seine Gedanken oder plötzlichen Wünsche flogen wie die Laune des Meeres über das Wasser, mal hierhin, mal dorthin, und er lebte ununterbrochen in einer stillen Spannung.”
“you can't depend on people who just let things happen”
“Не гледай толкова ядосано - прошепна бабата. - Това е социален живот и трябва да се изтърпи.”
“My dear child," said Grandmother impatiently, "every human being has to make his own mistakes." She was very tired, and wanted to get home.”
“She started thinking about all the euphemisms for death, all the anxious taboos that had always fascinated her. It was too bad you could never have an intelligent discussion on the subject. People were either too young or too old, or else they didn’t have time. Now”
“My girl wants me to fuck her brains out. No more of this slow and torturous lovemaking. Not for Melissa. No, she wants me to fuck her raw, and it scares the shit out of me.
“I’m sick of you treating me like I’m spun from glass. News flash, Greg Cage—I’m not going to break. Your massive dick isn’t going to thump a baby on the head, scar her for life, or poke a hole in her head. But what your dick is going to do is get the hell inside me and fuck me hard!”
“Why you?”
“I don't know, ask him.”
“I'm asking you, so, why don't you just come out and say it?”
Rafe released the door, letting it close. “What are we talking about?”
I dug my nails into my palms, letting the pain brace me for his answer. “Is he your father?”
Rafe's smile returned. “Nope. I'm not your brother, Lane. I know that's got to be a disappointment.” He paused, considering it. “Or maybe not. Now you can throw yourself at me. Just not when Mack's around okay? He's not my dad, but he is the guy who busted me out of an orphan camp when I was ten.”
“I write fiction for lots of reasons. One is power. I'm in charge when I write. So are you. You create the world of the story. You make the rules.”
“«Es necesario acostumbrarse a la idea de que 'tiempo' es un concepto relativo, y que propiamente tiene que ser completado por el concepto de una pleromática existencia 'simultánea' o 'bárdica' de todos los acontecimientos históricos. Lo que existe en el pléroma como 'acontecimiento' eterno, aparece en el tiempo como secuencia aperiódica, es decir, se repite varias veces de modo irregular.»”
“The main difference between these alternatives is symmetry. Dependence is an asymmetrical involvement: One person needs the other, but not vice versa, so the needy person is one-down. Interdependence is symmetrical: Both parties rely on each other, so neither is one-up or one-down. Moreover,”
BookQuoters is a community of passionate readers who enjoy sharing the most meaningful, memorable and interesting quotes from great books. As the world communicates more and more via texts, memes and sound bytes, short but profound quotes from books have become more relevant and important. For some of us a quote becomes a mantra, a goal or a philosophy by which we live. For all of us, quotes are a great way to remember a book and to carry with us the author’s best ideas.
We thoughtfully gather quotes from our favorite books, both classic and current, and choose the ones that are most thought-provoking. Each quote represents a book that is interesting, well written and has potential to enhance the reader’s life. We also accept submissions from our visitors and will select the quotes we feel are most appealing to the BookQuoters community.
Founded in 2023, BookQuoters has quickly become a large and vibrant community of people who share an affinity for books. Books are seen by some as a throwback to a previous world; conversely, gleaning the main ideas of a book via a quote or a quick summary is typical of the Information Age but is a habit disdained by some diehard readers. We feel that we have the best of both worlds at BookQuoters; we read books cover-to-cover but offer you some of the highlights. We hope you’ll join us.