“As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods,They kill us for their sport.”

― William Shakespeare, King Lear

topic:death fate

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“My long-crushed spirit rose, cowardice departed, bold defiance took its place; and I now resolved that, however long I might remain a slave in form, the day had passed forever when I could be a slave in fact.”

― Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass

“I have noticed since that men usually leave married women alone, and are inclined to treat all wives with respect. This is no great credit to married women. Men are always ready to respect anything that bores them.”

― Marilyn Monroe, My Story

“human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but . . . life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”

― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“Physical beauty is passing. A transitory possession. But beauty of the mind and richness of the spirit and tenderness of the heart–and I have all of those things–aren't taken away, but grow! Increase with the years!”

― Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire

“most of the books have the smell of an earlier time leaking out between the pages—a special odor of the knowledge and emotions that for ages have been calmly resting between the covers.”

― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

“Those who govern, having much business on their hands, do not generally like to take the trouble of considering and carrying into execution new projects. The best public measures are therefore seldom adopted from previous wisdom, but forc'd by...”

― Benjamin Franklin, The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

“Isabel’s written in a foreign tongue. I can’t make her out.”

― Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady

“All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.”

― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

“If music be the food of love, play on;”

― William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

“There is always after the death of anyone a kind of stupefaction; so difficult is it to grasp this advent of nothingness and to resign ourselves to believe in it.”

― Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

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