Charles Dickens Quotes
At the great iron gate of the churchyard he stopped and looked in. He looked up at the high tower spectrally resisting the wind, and he looked round at the white tombstones, like enough to the dead in their winding-sheets, and he counted the nine tolls of the clock-bell.
Charles Dickens
Quotes to Explore
I never really had the classic struggle. I had faith.
Denzel Washington
I don't mind that I'm fat. You still get the same money.
Marlon Brando
When you get something off the ground, it's fantastic, and you feel really close to that group of people.
John Cho
If the scripts are not good, I'll tell somebody, 'This isn't good.'
Dick Wolf
For me, Minneapolis will always have a special place in my heart.
Mayte Garcia
When I lived in China, there were no libraries. My mother bought books for me, and they were mostly the classics. I read 'Peter Pan,' 'The Secret Garden,' the 'Rosemary' books, and Kipling's 'Just So' Stories was one of my favorites. No, I didn't read historical fiction. It didn't exist where I was growing up in China.
Jean Fritz
Life has now taught me that love for things, like all unrequited love, takes its toll in the long run.
Adolfo Bioy Casares
If you focus on literature through only one small element of it, like the more scientific element of linguistics, then where is the joy that brought us literature in the first place, which is to have a story?
T. C. Boyle
Once [a soul] is condemned by God, then God's friends agree in God's judgment and condemnation. For all eternity they will not have a kind thought for this wretch. Rather they will be satisfied to see him in the flames as a victim of God's justice. ("The just shall rejoice when he shall see the revenge . . ." Psalm 57:11) They will abhor him. A mother will look from paradise upon her own condemned son without being moved, as though she had never known him.
Anthony Mary Claret
How do you define a poet? It's very simple. Anyone declaring that he is a poet, is a poet.
Billy Cannon
At the great iron gate of the churchyard he stopped and looked in. He looked up at the high tower spectrally resisting the wind, and he looked round at the white tombstones, like enough to the dead in their winding-sheets, and he counted the nine tolls of the clock-bell.
Charles Dickens
