“It seems to me that maybe pretty much always means no. So dont tell me, I might just let it go.”
Melancholic feeling
Melancholic Quotes — page 209 of 412
“The essence of what I desire is simply this: to sleep away life.”
“Ah, it's my longing for whom I might have been that distracts and torments me!”
“I have at this moment so many fundamental thoughts, so many truly metaphysical things to say, that I suddenly get tired and decide not to write any more, not to think any more, but to allow the fever of speaking to make me sleepy, and with my eyes closed, like a cat, I play with everything I could have said.”
“I take with me the conscience of defeat as a victory banner.”
“The vilest deeds like poison weeds Bloom well in prison air; It is only what is good in man That wastes and withers there.”
“Biography lends to death a new terror.”
“The man who says he has exhausted life generally means that life has exhausted him.”
“Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The loves and sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude.”
“The modern sympathy with invalids is morbid. Illness of any kind is hardly a thing to be encouraged in others.”
“The beautiful, passionate, ruined South, the land of magnolias and music, of roses and romance . . . living on the memory of crushing defeats”
“Oh! I don't think I would like to catch a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to talk to him about.”
“Excessive love in loathing ever ends.”
“Ah me! love can not be cured by herbs.”
“Chastity, once lost, cannot be recalled; it goes only once.”
“Devouring Time and envious Age, all things yield to you; and with lingering death you destroy, step by step, with venomed tooth whatever you attack.”
“Time glides away and as we get older through the noiseless years; the days flee and are restrained by no reign.”
“How little is the promise of the child fulfilled in the man.”
“But whether he was happy or not was hard to say. Probably he was neither, just as a plant is neither.”
“Some attribute had departed from her, the permanence of which had been essential to keep her a woman. Such is frequently the fate, and such the stern development, of the feminine character and person, when the woman has encountered, and lived through, an experience of peculiar severity. If she be all tenderness, she will die. If she survive, the tenderness will either be crushed out of her, or—and the outward semblance is the same—crushed so deeply into her heart that it can never show itself more.”