jacqueline > jacqueline's Quotes

Showing 1-14 of 14
sort by

  • #1
    Albert Camus
    “Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but 'steal' some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.”
    Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951-1959

  • #2
    Franz Kafka
    “You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.”
    Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

  • #3
    Sylvia Plath
    “I talk to God but the sky is empty.”
    Sylvia Plath

  • #4
    Charlotte Brontë
    “Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation."
    "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”
    Charlotte Brontë , Jane Eyre

  • #5
    Hans Christian Andersen
    “But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.”
    Hans Christian Andersen, The Little Mermaid

  • #6
    Sylvia Plath
    “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

  • #7
    Sylvia Plath
    “I’m not afraid of being lost. We all wander off from time to time. It’s the fear of never quite finding myself that keeps me up at night.”
    Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
    tags: fear

  • #8
    Charlotte Brontë
    “This girl who stands so quiet and grave at the mouth of hell. This girl who is all quietness and sanity and innocence. You wondered why I wanted her?”
    Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

  • #9
    Albert Camus
    “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”
    Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays

  • #9
    Jeffrey Eugenides
    “What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.”
    Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides

  • #11
    Albert Camus
    “Man stands face to face with the irrational. He feels within him his longing for happiness and for reason. The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.”
    Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays

  • #12
    Charlotte Brontë
    “Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! - I have as much soul as you, - and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you!”
    Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

  • #13
    William Shakespeare
    “Come, you spirits
    That tend on mortal thoughts! Unsex me here,
    And fill me from the crown to the toe top full
    Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood,
    Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
    That no compunctious visitings of nature
    Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
    The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts,
    And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,
    Wherever in your sightless substances
    You wait on nature’s mischief! Come, thick night,
    And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
    That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
    Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
    To cry "Hold, hold!”
    William Shakespeare, Macbeth

  • #14
    William Shakespeare
    “To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
    Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
    To the last syllable of recorded time;
    And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
    The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
    Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
    And then is heard no more. It is a tale
    Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
    Signifying nothing.”
    William Shakespeare, Macbeth



Rss