Best 1979 quotes in «lost quotes» category

Richard had no idea who he was, any more; no idea what was or what was not true; nor whether he was brave or cowardly, mad or sane, but he knew the next thing he had to do. He stepped on to the train,and all the lights went out.

Riley's sway as he disappeared down the alley, I recognized it. It wasn't booze. It was the thing that happened when a little too much got a little too messed up. They sway, it's what creeps over a person when they've begun to empty out and don't care enough to put anything back, to replace what has been lost.

Sacajawea's celebrated role on the Lewis and Clark expedition wasn't primarily that of a navigator; she made their being lost more viable by her knowledge of useful plants, of languages, by the way she and her infant signified to the tribes they encountered that this was not a war party, and perhaps by her sense that all this was home, or somebody's home.

Schimbarea este iminentă. Ființa omenească se află în pragul unei noi ere, când își va întoarce iar privirile spre natură și spre ceea ce a fost... spre ideile din cărți precum Zoharul și alte texte străvechi din lumea întreagă. Adevărurile semnificative își au propria forță gravitațională și, în cele din urmă, atrag oamenii spre ele. Va veni o zi în care știința modernă va începe să studieze cu atenție înțelepciunea anticilor. Aceea va fi ziua în care omenirea va începe să afle răspunsurile la marile întrebări ale vieții, încă neelucidate.

Shame on the misguided, the blinded, the distracted and the divided. Shame. You have allowed deceptive men to corrupt and desensitize your hearts and minds to unethically fuel their greed.

September 11… I will never forget feeling scared and vulnerable… I will never forget feeling the deep sad loss of so many lives… I will never forget the smell of the smoke that reached across the water and delivered a deep feeling of doom into my gut… I will never forget feeling the boosted sense of unity and pride… I will never forget seeing the courageous actions of so many men and women… I will never forget seeing people of all backgrounds working together in community… I will never forget seeing what hate can destroy… I will never forget seeing what love can heal…

She already felt dead in everything but name. What remained to be taken from her? She longed to be enfolded, welcomed, into the earth - to breathe no more, love no more, hurt no more

She could spin it between her legs, skip with it, twirl it around her neck and transfer it from one arm to the other. Shelly hooped because she enjoyed it; it calmed her whenever she would have an argument or a bad day at school, and it also allowed her to think. Today, she needed to hoop more than ever.

She cannot be lost because no one is looking for her.

She could now be sad without losing a jot of hope. Nay, rather, the least approach of sadness would begin at once to wake her hope. She regretted nothing that had come, nothing that had gone. She believed more and more that not anything worth having is ever lost; that even the most evanescent shades of feeling are safe for those who grow after their true nature, toward that for which they were made—in other and higher words, after the will of God.

She couldn’t explain it except with the word: there. She was there. Present in herself. She wasn’t always, so it was worth remarking upon.

She chuckled and thought he was a pretentious buffoon. Manhattan had been lost for days. If he had not been hiding out on Long Island with his head up his ass, he’d know that.

She is off the heart's map and her compass is spinning.

she has craters but only a fool can deny her beauty. She silently stare sun whole night & reflects his light his love with stars at times.

She said once that time is nothing to me but a series of bookmarks that I use to jump back and forth through the text of my life, returning again and again to the events that mark me in the eyes of my more astute colleagues, as bearing all the characteristics of the classic melancholic.

See you in another life, brotha.

She looks like an empty shell of a woman with her soul hovering above her. We believe in spiritual guías in Santo Domingo. Hers is her own self. I can see Mami’s soul desperately trying to find its way back into her small body.

Shelly shook her head and made sure she had plenty of space so that she wouldn’t hit anything. As many times before, she kept the hoop close to her waist and then twirled it with small, tight bursts of speed. As the hoop gathered in momentum it started to give off a hum that soon took on a light blue illumination far brighter than the streetlamps. It was so bright, that it lit up the entire backyard.

She sat there alone after getting drenched enough by rain. In the silence of the midnight, Each drop that fell made a sound that was loud enough to wake all the memories inside her one after the other, before she could know what was happening she was lost somewhere in the past where the pictures in mind pushed her into a state of chaotic happiness and a blissful pain.

She thought about this. She had analyzed it in depth. When you live alone, travel alone, exist solely on the outskirts of other people's lives, you do have time to wonder why what you want most in life is out of reach. You also have the time to tell yourself that you don't want it at all, though whether you can ever be completely convinced is something else.

She stood lost in eternity... watching the immense sky...

She's lost in thought. I'm lost in her.

She was always looking for guarantees in a world of none.

She was lost in her longing to understand.

She would let a speeding automobile hit her to show them all how unloved she was.

She was no better than the shells by her feet, tumbling this way and that at the beck and call of the waves.

Shine your light into the darkness and you’ll find lost treasure.

Siempre he estado convencido de que el primer mordisco de la enfermedad de mi madre se llevó lo que yo más quería: el beso de buenas noches. Yo pensé que, como el rezo juntos antes de dormir, era otra pérdida de la edad. Una más de las catástrofes de hacerte mayor. Como que dejara de ordenarme la ropa, de removerme el Cola-Cao o de preguntarme al volver del colegio si tenía muchos deberes. Un día las madres dejan de darte el beso de buenas noches, se fue el beso de buenas noches y vinieron la hipoteca del piso y las letras del coche, en mi caso una noche no llegó el beso y aguardé silencioso. La oscuridad se transformó en hostil, lúgubre, inhóspita. Puede que otras noches yo mismo la llamara, pero llega la noche en que no te sientes autorizado para gritarle mamá, ¿vienes? Y no viene nadie. Puede que cuando despiertas a la mañana siguiente seas más adulto, más independiente, pero esa noche tan sólo eres más infeliz. La segunda noche consecutiva sin beso, lloré en silencio. Sentí algo amputado adentro. Si te arrancan un brazo, dudo que duela como perder ese beso.

Slogans seem to be dead; this world is now busy chanting fears of lost democracy

So every time I lose one of my shoes and my brother looks at me angrily thinking I’m trying to catch a prince with a lost shoe, or mistakenly cuts myself and the whole world around me thinks I’m trying to attract a vampire, I just laugh sounding like a complete stranger to them. And to everyone like them. I know I don’t need to be a Cinderella. Or an Isabella. I already own things, all things, every single thing, which I love and proudly dream to own. They're just not here…not in this world. And that definitely doesn’t mean, I lost them.

Sometimes at night, when the nightmare clung to me, I wondered if Peter’s assurances that I would never grow up were only assurances that I would die before such a thing happened. I wondered if that were better, to die before I became something withered and grey and not wanted.

Sometimes if you don't get lost, there is a chance, you may never arrive!

Sometimes I wonder, that one missing sock after doing laundry, is the smart one. After being unhappy for so long, it finally walks away from a frayed, worn-out relationship.

Sometimes its hard to tell how fast the current's moving until you're headed over a waterfall

Sometimes it's your fragrance that comes to me, out of the blue, on a crowded road in a Sunday afternoon. But more often, it's memories of us that cross my mind almost every lone evening. All I want is to lessen the pain I feel every night. But every morning I wake up is another day, hopeless and miserable, with nothing but a deafening silence, a wave of tears, memories and your absence.

Sometimes not looking for something is the best way to look for it

Sometimes my mind goes dark, and every single part of my life goes dark with it. Any happiness I thought I knew gets replaced by a sadness so big it must be for the whole world. I convince myself that I have nothing to offer, and that nobody has anything to offer me, either. I commit to hopelessness. In these dark moments I remind myself, ( because I’d be too lost without the reminder) that what I'm feeling isn't the full truth of the world, not by miles, and that though I can't see it, nothing is as dire as the nightmare my mind conjures, and that i, and the world, will be okay. In time, with hope. Slowly I come out of the darkness again. I reject my mind's devotion to misery and fear, and reroute myself on a path of acceptance and love. I focus on the beauty in our world, and in myself, and I remember that we are family, all of us, and we each matter. We each shine. Certainly.

Sometimes others narcissism will take place of your happiness. Don’t let it happen.

Sometimes the best way to find your road is to get lost. Sometimes the only way to find a way is to get lost.

She wondered how it would feel to be beautiful and have it taken away. How much harder would it be than never knowing what it felt like in the first place?

Since the time you left, Life has been like a roller coaster That has only gone down!

Society has a herd psychology, so until we have more good shepherds we are lost.

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault. I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day, but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries once a week and I am not sitting for hours in the shower anymore. I am the way a life unfolds and bloom and seasons come and go and I am the way the spring always finds a way to turn even the coldest winter into a field of green and flowers and new life. I am not your fault.

So many of the things she had found lately hadn't been precisely lost. But she wasn't found without them.

Somehow her hula hoop had cut into the driver’s side door like the vehicle was made of cheese.

Some of life's greatest wisdom comes from observing the lives of very lost people.

Some things are private. Some things needed to be said, even when the person who needed to hear them couldn’t hear anything. Ever again.

Sometimes life will not accommodate your fondest hopes. You must let go of these treasured dreams. They were never real. Just let the image of each illusive hope flow away from you like an imaginary leaf on a river of daydreams.

Sometimes that which you have never lost is the hardest to find.

Sometimes there was the pure, primal pain of grief, and other times there was anger, the frantic desire to claw and hit and kill, and sometimes, like right now, ther was just ordinary, dull sadness, settling itself softly, suffocatingly over her like a heave fog. She was just so damned sad.