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#charles

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #charles




Elise hid her face in his shoulder, embarassed, "Kane! What will they think?" She whispered against his neck. "That we're newly bonded and I can't keep my hands off of my lovely mate." And sure enough, the good natured calls that accompanied them across the yard left her in no doubt that the others were thinking exactly that.


Nicky Charles


#funny #humor #kane #mating #nicky-charles

Charles Barkley, I used to watch him growing up. Then I met him. He was a big teddy bear.


Shannon Miller


#big #charles #growing #growing up #him

I don't think you ever think of a big city as sweet or community, but there are cities that I think of as charming and particular and interesting cities. I live in one now, Charleston.


Anne Rivers Siddons


#big city #charleston #charming #cities #city

in this case, a mother, noted for her beauty, might be reduced to a purple shadow... (Tansley to Lily on her painting of the house & grounds)


Virginia Woolf


#lily-briscoe #philosophy #beauty

all theories like cliches shot to hell, all these small faces looking up beautiful and believing; I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but believe is a graveyard. we have narrowed it down to the butcherknife and the mockingbird wish us luck.


Charles Bukowski


#fire #luck #poem #quote #beauty

Sometimes you have to do things you don't like in order to make a change in the world.


Carrie Ryan


#miasma #change

Charles Pierce, Bea Arthur, and I were like a terrible little trio.


Millicent Martin


#charles #i #like #little #pierce

Tonight, however, Dickens struck him in a different light. Beneath the author’s sentimental pity for the weak and helpless, he could discern a revolting pleasure in cruelty and suffering, while the grotesque figures of the people in Cruikshank’s illustrations revealed too clearly the hideous distortions of their souls. What had seemed humorous now appeared diabolic, and in disgust at these two favourites he turned to Walter Pater for the repose and dignity of a classic spirit. But presently he wondered if this spirit were not in itself of a marble quality, frigid and lifeless, contrary to the purpose of nature. ‘I have often thought’, he said to himself, ‘that there is something evil in the austere worship of beauty for its own sake.’ He had never thought so before, but he liked to think that this impulse of fancy was the result of mature consideration, and with this satisfaction he composed himself for sleep. He woke two or three times in the night, an unusual occurrence, but he was glad of it, for each time he had been dreaming horribly of these blameless Victorian works… It turned out to be the Boy’s Gulliver’s Travels that Granny had given him, and Dicky had at last to explain his rage with the devil who wrote it to show that men were worse than beasts and the human race a washout. A boy who never had good school reports had no right to be so morbidly sensitive as to penetrate to the underlying cynicism of Swift’s delightful fable, and that moreover in the bright and carefully expurgated edition they bring out nowadays. Mr Corbett could not say he had ever noticed the cynicism himself, though he knew from the critical books it must be there, and with some annoyance he advised his son to take out a nice bright modern boy’s adventure story that could not depress anybody. Mr Corbett soon found that he too was ‘off reading’. Every new book seemed to him weak, tasteless and insipid; while his old and familiar books were depressing or even, in some obscure way, disgusting. Authors must all be filthy-minded; they probably wrote what they dared not express in their lives. Stevenson had said that literature was a morbid secretion; he read Stevenson again to discover his peculiar morbidity, and detected in his essays a self-pity masquerading as courage, and in Treasure Island an invalid’s sickly attraction to brutality. This gave him a zest to find out what he disliked so much, and his taste for reading revived as he explored with relish the hidden infirmities of minds that had been valued by fools as great and noble. He saw Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë as two unpleasant examples of spinsterhood; the one as a prying, sub-acid busybody in everyone else’s flirtations, the other as a raving, craving maenad seeking self-immolation on the altar of her frustrated passions. He compared Wordsworth’s love of nature to the monstrous egoism of an ancient bellwether, isolated from the flock.


Margaret Irwin


#charlotte-bronte #emily-bronte #jane-austen #jonathan-swift #literature

The area dividing the brain and the soul Is affected in many ways by experience -- Some lose all mind and become soul: insane. Some lose all soul and become mind: intellectual. Some lose both and become: accepted.


Charles Bukowski


#charles #experience

There are very few moments in a man's existence when he experiences so much ludicrous distress, or meets with so little charitable commiseration, as when he is in pursuit of his own hat.


Charles Dickens


#disease #victorian #experience






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