"i wish the sky would rain down roses, as they rain from off the shaken bush. why will it not?"
“It’s not all bad. Heightened self-consciousness, apartness, an inability to join in, physical shame and self-loathing—they are not all bad. Those devils have been my angels. Without them I would never have disappeared into language, literature, the mind, laughter and all the mad intensities that made and unmade me.
Moab Is My Washpot, Stephen Fry
“[His hands were weak and shaking from carrying far too many books from the bookshop.] It was the best feeling.
The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories
“Oh, sweet emotions, gentle harmony, goodness and peace of the softened heart, melting bliss of the first raptures of love, where are they, where are they?
First Love, Ivan Turgenev
there were some people who just thought it was funny the way she loved books, but honestly there was nothing she loved better than books because that was the kind of person she was.
“Yes, yes,” said the Beast, “my heart is good, but still I am a monster.” “Among mankind,” says Beauty, “there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.
Beauty and the Beast, Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont
“Think how you love me,” she whispered. “I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there’ll always be the person I am tonight.
Tender Is the Night, F. Scott Fitzgerald
“She began to whisper something in my ear. It’s the strangest thing about poetry - you can tell it’s poetry, even if you don’t speak the language. You can hear Homer’s Greek without understanding a word, and you still know it’s poetry. I’ve heard Polish poetry, and Inuit poetry, and I knew what it was without knowing. Her whisper was like that. I didn’t know the language, but her words washed through me, perfect, and in my mind’s eye I saw towers of glass and diamond; and people with eyes of the palest green; and, unstoppable, beneath every syllable, I could feel the relentless advance of the ocean.
How to Talk to Girls at Parties, Neil Gaiman