My most fertile reading time is when I have just finished a project and haven't started another. I binge-read and surf around bookstores.

Yet one new trend I do like coming from mainstream publishers right now is memoirs tied to research that explores the narrator's dilemma.

O blest one hour like this! to rise And see grief's shadows backward roll; While bursts on unaccustomed eyes The glad Aurora of the soul.

We persist and linger longer than we think, leaving traces of ourselves wherever we go. If you take that away, then we all simply vanish.

We spend our lives fighting to get people very slightly more stupid than ourselves to accept truths that the great men have always known.

A woman without a man cannot meet a man, any man, of any age, without thinking, even if it's for a half-second, 'Perhaps this is THE man.

There's always this sense of incredulity that writers feel, because they're usually living flat and ordinary lives, because they have to.

If we're going to change the world for the better, kids need to know that they can by feeling good about who they are and helping others.

A good piece of technology dreams of the day when it will be replaced by a newer piece of technology. This is one definition of progress.

I've given up wanting to make a killing or be a bigshot. I just want to find happiness and maybe open up a little roadside cafe in Idaho.

I think that in the future, clocks won't say three o'clock anymore. They'll just get right to the point and rename three o'clock 'Pepsi.'

Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its highest. Live in fragments no longer

Long books, when read, are usually overpraised, because the reader wishes to convince others and himself that he has not wasted his time.

Living the past is a dull and lonely business; looking back strains the neck muscles, causing you to bump into people not going your way.

... a country encapsulates our childhood and those lanes, byres, fields, flowers, insects, suns, moons and stars are forever reoccurring.

The brave man wants no charms to encourage him to his duty, and the good man scorns all warnings that would deter him from fulfilling it.

How little praise warms out of a man the good that is in him, as the sneer of contempt which he feels is unjust chill the ardor to excel.

The bitter winds in February were sometimes called the First East Winds, but the longing for spring somehow made them seem more piercing.

Justice requires that everyone should have enough to eat. But it also requires that everyone should contribute to the production of food.

I have wondered sometimes if there are not perhaps some disadvantages in having really blue blood in one's veins, like grandmamma and me.

Kings and queens might do wicked things, but they don't nag. One thing I like about Bloody Mary: she never said a word about lung cancer.

Six months ago I had never been to England, and, certainly, I had never sounded the depths of an English heart. I had known the shallows.

All the freedom enjoyed in America, beyond what is enjoyed in England, is enjoyed solely by the disorderly at the expense of the orderly.

There are things which a man is afraid to tell even to himself, and every decent man has a number of such things stored away in his mind.

Although your mind works, your heart is darkened with depravity; and without a pure heart there can be no complete and true consciousness

What if, when this fog scatters and flies upward, the whole rotten, slimey city goes with it, rises with the fog and vanishes like smoke.

Don't think I'm talking nonsense because I'm drunk. I'm not a bit drunk. Brandy's all very well, but I need two bottles to make me drunk.

In some way impossible to ascertain, after so many years of absense, Jose Arcadio was still an autumnal child, terribly sad and solitary.

we had made love without love, half-dressed most of the time and always in the dark so we could imagine ourselves as better than we were.

The best antidote I have found is to yearn for something. As long as you yearn, you can't congeal: There is a forward motion to yearning.

Don’t you think every face tells its own story? Like a book? More like a poem. If you study it long enough, you’ll soon find its meaning.

We learn words by rote, but not their meaning; that must be paid for with our life-blood, and printed in the subtle fibres of our nerves.

You may try — but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's force of genius in you, and yet to suffer the slavery of being a girl.

No anguish I have had to bear on your account has been too heavy a price to pay for the new life into which I have entered in loving you.

autobiography at least saves a man or woman that the world is curious about from the publication of a string of mistakes called 'Memoirs.

Political language... is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.

I've never been quite sure what the point of a eunuch is, if truth be told. It seems to me they're only men with the useful bits cut off.

Black moleskin gloves covered his hands; the right because it was burned, the left because a man felt half a fool wearing only one glove.

No human being can control love, and no one is to blame either for feeling it or for losing it. What alone degrades a woman is falsehood.

One wastes so much time, one is so prodigal of life, at twenty! Our days of winter count for double. That is the compensation of the old.

Once I unlocked the mystery of the alphabet that led to words, a multitude of words connecting me to the world, there was no stopping me.

He who has money, lives long: he who has authority, can do no wrong: he who has might, establishes right. Such is history! Ecce historia!

I never use the words HUMANIST or HUMANITARIAN, as it seems to me that to be human is to be capable of the most heinous crimes in nature.

I belonged to the generation that grew up under National Socialism, and was blinded and led astray - and allowed itself to be led astray.

I have often supported Israel, I have often visited the country and want the country to exist and at last find peace with its neighbours.

I didn't know how you were going to do it, but from now on I'll never worry about what'll become of you, son, you'll always have an idea.

What is commonly called love, namely the desire of satisfying a voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicate white human flesh.

All things that God would have us do are hard for us to do--remember that--and hence, he oftener commands us than endeavours to persuade.

Indolence is heaven 's ally here, And energy the child of hell : The Good Man pouring from his pitcher clear But brims the poisoned well.

I feel that the Godhead is broken up like the bread at the Supper, and that we are the pieces. Hence this infinite fraternity of feeling.

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