c2p-cmd/Good-Quotes-Authors huggingface dataset:
That is the way with us when we have any uneasy jealousy in our disposition: if our talents are chiefly of the burrowing kind, our honey-sipping cousin (whom we have grave reasons for objecting to) is likely to have a secret contempt for us, and any one who admires him passes an oblique criticism on ourselves. Having the scruples of rectitude in our souls, we are above the meanness of injuring him—rather we meet all his claims on us by active benefits; and the drawing of cheques for him, being a superiority which he must recognize, gives our bitterness a milder infusion.
— George Eliot, Middlemarch
Envy is a buzz killer."~R. Alan Woods [2013]
— R. Alan Woods, The Journey Is the Destination: A Book of Quotes With Commentaries
Insecure people put others down to raise themselves up.
— Habeeb Akande
You chase off every man that’s ever been interested, and you do it without even trying.
— Dianna Hardy, Releasing The Wolf
If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then a friend of my enemy, is my enemy.
— Pyreglide
I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt; I am lean with seeing others eat - O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone; then thou should'st see how fat I would be! But must thou sit and I stand? Come down, with a vengeance!
— Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
You may think my jealousy would have been enormous during those days after Peter gave Tiger Lily the smallest kiss on the neck. And you would be right. But these moments were swallowed by a bigger emotion, my tenderness for Tiger Lily, which had grown to take up most of the space in my body, without me knowing it. I can't say I didn't dream that this was a passing moment of infatuation, and that eventually Peter would notice and pick me-as impossible as that might have seemed considering my size. But I felt protective of Tiger Lily. I felt that just by watching over her, I could somehow keep her safe. And I wanted to keep Peter safe too.
— Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily
The words carry their own momentum. A confession in motion tends to stay in motion. Newton's first law of jealousy.
— Erica Jong, How to Save Your Own Life
She had in truth no abstract propensity to malice: she did not dislike Lily because the latter was brilliant and predominant, but because she thought that Lily disliked her. It is less mortifying to believe one's self unpopular than insignificant, and vanity prefers to assume that indifference is a latent form of unfriendliness.
— Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
Rendall's first law of jealousy: jealousy does the cock harder and pussy wetter.
— Erica Jong, How to Save Your Own Life
The biggest mistake you can ever make it to compare yourself to others. - Gideon
— Jacquelyn Frank, Adam
Once she was standing by her locker and her puka shells broke and scattered and she made a joke about it but he could tell she was upset. He wanted to buy her some more. He wanted to give her a million strands of little nesting polished shells, and tropical flowers and ice creams and lemonades and a pale blue surfboard to teach her to surf on and anything else she wanted. Instead he let his checkered Vans step on one of the rolling shells and crush it.
— Francesca Lia Block, Wasteland
...Ah, but the Moon my Love is jealous, and can you blame him? You outshine him with your virtues...
— John Geddes, A Familiar Rain
Sometimes, I think that I love life so much, that I make death jealous...
— Lionel Suggs
His veins were dark with a vivid belladonna tincture, the essence of jealousy.
— Charlotte Brontë, Villette
Mother Florence had once told her that jealousy was the worst of all faults because it prevented a person from being who they were born to be.
— Christopher Pike, Witch
Jealousy is an uncontrollable emotion. It attacks all of us. As long as you don’t let it get the best of you, I’m sure you and your envy can live in harmony without anyone getting hurt. So, see? There’s no need to feel bad about it. It makes you normal. Human.
— Linda Kage, A Fallow Heart
This was one of those mid-thirties moments when you take a look at the stale, half-chewed bagel your life has become and kiss jealousy on its smokey mouth.
— Steve Almond, Rock and Roll Will Save Your Life: A Book by and for the Fanatics Among Us
Ben wore the same goofy smile as in the photo. Take that, new guy! I can make him happy too!
— Jay Bell, Something Like Winter
Why do people who already have so much get bitter about those who have a little more?
— Dalya Moon, Smart Mouth Waitress
Anna has a stab of jealousy - she is thrilled for them, yet can't help but envy their happiness. Don't be ungracious, she tells herself. It is not your time; it is theirs. Lou is so lovely; she deserves to be happy.
— Sarah Rayner, One Moment, One Morning
...I don't want what other men see in you- you the you I want is invisible but it is the part of you I really love...
— John Geddes, A Familiar Rain
He recognised that all the period of Odette's life which had elapsed before she first met him, a period of which he had never sought to form any picture in his mind, was not the featureless abstraction which he could vaguely see, but had consisted of so many definite, dated years, each crowded with concrete incidents. But were he to learn more of them, he feared lest her past, now colourless, fluid and supportable, might assume a tangible, an obscene form, with individual and diabolical features. And he continued to refrain from seeking a conception of it, not any longer now from laziness of mind, but from fear of suffering.
— Marcel Proust, Swann's Way
Entering by the carré, a piece of mirror- glass, set in an oaken cabinet, repeated my image. It said I was changed: my cheeks and lips were sodden white, my eyes were glassy, and my eyelids swollen and purple.On rejoining my companions, I knew they all looked at me - my heart seemed discovered to them: I believed myself self-betrayed. Hideously certain did it seem that the very youngest of the school must guess why and for whom I despaired.
— Charlotte Brontë, Villette
I like the sound of 'claps of no sound..
— Himanshu rathore
Max.God, but she was stubborn. And tough. And closed in. Closed off. Except whenshe was holding Angel, or ruffling the Gasman’s hair, or pushing somethingcloser to Iggy’s hand so he could find it easily without knowing anyone hadhelped him. Or when she was trying to untangle Nudge’s mane of hair.Or-sometimes-when she was looking at Fang.He shifted on the hard ground, a half-dozen flashes of memory cyclingthrough his brain. Max looking at him and laughing. Max leaping off a cliff,snapping out her wings, flying off, so incredibly powerful and graceful thatit took his breath away.Max punching someone’s lights out, her face like stone.Max kissing that weiner Sam on Anne’s front porch.Gritting his teeth, Fang rolled onto his side.Max kissing him on the beach, after Ari had kicked Fang’s butt.Just now, her mouth soft under his.He wished she were here, if not next to him, then somewhere in the cave, sohe could hear her breathing.It was going to be hard to sleep without that tonight.
— James Patterson, Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports
When she leaned forward to mess with the AC vents, her hair brushed against my leg and it was really soft. It made remember all over again. It made it hard to stay pissed and keep her at arm's length the way I'd planned. It was pretty near damn impossible. When I was near her, I just wanted to grab her and hold her and kiss the shit out of her. Maybe then she'd forget about my asshole of a brother.
— Jenny Han, It's Not Summer Without You
That I have no right to be jealous is irrelevant. It is a human passion: the sick, white underbelly of love.
— Anita Shreve, The Last Time They Met
She was so beautiful tonight he knew he would die of it. He hated that anyone else should see it. He wished it were something he alone could see. And he knew he was alone, that nobody saw it but him. And he knew that everyone could see it. And still no one could but him.
— Patrick Holland
Before Charlotte could utter a syllable, Tristan picked up her gloved hand and kissed her lightly on theknuckles.“Good day, Charlotte,” he said.“Good day,” she answered. She turned to bid farewell to Lady Rosalind, but she seemed to havedisappeared.Numbly, she descended the front steps toward a waiting Rothbury, who only had eyes for the Devines’front door, looking quite like he wanted to murder someone.“Perfection, dear brother,” Rosalind proclaimed, while peeking out the little window next to the door.“Utter perfection.”Slipping a finger inside his cravat to loosen it a bit, Tristan craned his neck from side to side, easing thebuilding tension. “If he kills me, I’ll see to it that you get hanged for murder as well.
— Olivia Parker, To Wed a Wicked Earl
The life of a plural wife, she'd found, was a life lived under constant comparison, a life spent wondering. Sitting across from her sister-wives at Sunday dinner, the platters and serving dishes floating past like hovercraft, the questions were almost inescapable; Who of us is the most happy? Which of us is his one true love? Who does he desire the most?
— Brady Udall
It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish.
— Mother Teresa
Is adult amusement killing our children, or is killing our children amusing adults?
— Marilyn Manson
Hello, inner child, I'm the inner babysitter!
— Terry Pratchett, Hogfather
You see yourself as if old and wise.I see you really miss your childhood.
— Toba Beta, Master of Stupidity
The Aeon is a child at play with colored balls.(translation/paraphrase: Terence McKenna)
— Heraclitus, Fragments
When you're a parent you find yourself looking at the unknown that is your child, trying to find a piece of yourself inside her, because sometimes that is what it takes to claim.
— Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts
Being a parent wasn't just about bearing a child. It was about bearing witness to its life.
— Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care
He closed his eyes. This bed was a wedding gift from friends he had not seen in years. He tried to remember their names, but they were gone. In it, or on it, his marriage had begun and, six years later, ended. He recognized a musical creak when he moved his legs, he smelled Julie on the sheets and banked-up pillows, her perfume and the close, soapy essence that characterized her newly washed linen. Here he had taken part in the longest, most revealing, and, later, most desolate conversations of his life. He had had the best sex ever here, and the worst wakeful nights. He had done more reading here than in any other single place - he remembered Anna Karenina and Daniel Deronda in one week of illness. He had never lost his temper so thoroughly anywhere else, nor had been so tender, protective, comforting, nor, since early childhood, been so cared for himself. Here his daughter had been conceived and born. On this side of the bed. Deep in the mattress were the traces of pee from her early-morning visits. She used to climb between then, sleep a little, then wake them with her chatter, her insistence on the day beginning. As they clung to their last fragments of dreams, she demanded the impossible: stories, poems, songs, invented catechisms, physical combat, tickling. Nearly all evidence of her existence, apart from photographs, they had destroyed or given away. All the worst and the best things that had ever happened to him had happened here. This was where he belonged. Beyond all immediate considerations, like the fact that his marriage was more or less finished, there was his right to lie here now in the marriage bed.
— Ian McEwan, The Child in Time
I can see that an insufficent, or perhaps even defective, socialization process has led you to believe that four-letter words add power to languauge
— Douglas Preston
I realized that I'm a child."William looked point-blank at her chest. "No.
— Ilona Andrews, Bayou Moon
Many things we need can wait. The child cannot. Now is the time his bones are formed, his mind developed. To him we cannot say tomorrow, his name is today.
— Gabriela Mistral
And even though I adore the fact that Francesca has Ben's eyes, I also see now that her biological connection to us is irrelevant. She is her own little person. She is Francesca. If we weren't her "natural" parents, we would still have loved her just as much.
— Liane Moriarty, What Alice Forgot
I went over to see Marina two or three or four times a week. I knew as long as I could see the girl I would be all right…. Soon after, I got a letter from Fay. She and the child were living in a hippie commune in New Mexico. It was a nice place, she said. Marina would be able to breathe there. She enclosed a little drawing the girl had made for me.
— Charles Bukowski, Post Office
Memories particularly of when they weren’t being what parents are nine-tenths of the time, the taskmasters, the examples, the moral authorities, the nags of pick-that-up and you’re-going-to-be-late, keepers of the diary of her duties and routines, memories, rather, of when they found one another afresh, beyond the tensions between parental mastery and inept childish uncertainty, of those moments of respite in a family’s life when they could reach one another in calm
— Philip Roth, American Pastoral
Lena felt like a child. Worse than a child and less valuable. She felt like a mouse. No, smaller than a mouse and less alive. Her life seemed so small and crumpled you could shoot it through a straw like a spitball.
— Ann Brashares, Sisterhood Everlasting
All that evening Nell sat alone in her bedroom trembling with curious satisfaction. For punishment Eva had been sent to her room without supper and Nell sat listening now to the even, steady sobs far off down the hall. It was dark and on the river shore a night bird tried its note cautiously against the silence. Down in the pantry, the dishes done, Suse and Jessie, dark as night itself, drank coffee by the great stove and mumbled over stories of the old times before the War. Nell fetched her smelling salts and sniffed the frosted stopper of the flowered bottle till the trembling stopped. ("Where The Woodbine Twineth")
— Davis Grubb, American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940's Until Now
Aion is a child at play, playing draughts; the kingship is a child's.
— Heraclitus, Fragments
Oh, the joy of the arrival of a child, which is both the one and the other, a mirror in which husband and wife, who love each other, can see each other in one single face.
— Georges Rodenbach, Hans Cadzand's Vocation & Other Stories
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She's a tangled mess of wild- a forest nymph, a goddess child. She's like the seductive sea - feral and fierce, calm and serene. She's the starfish swimming in my soul, the woman child who keeps me sane, who keeps me whole.
— Melody  Lee
An honest man is always a child.
— Socrates
A child's growth is defined entirely by the adult that raises him.
— Naoki Urasawa, Naoki Urasawa's Monster, Volume 3: 511 Kinderheim
You don’t understand!” she exclaimed bitterly.“That,” said his lordship, with a touch of acidity, “is a foolish accusation which lacks even the saving grace of originality! Every generation, my child, has said, or thought, that the preceding one was devoid of understanding or experience.
— Georgette Heyer, Frederica
WHAT ARE YOU DOING TODAY TO LET ALIVE THE CHILD WITHIN YOU?
— Seema Brain Openers
And like a child, I'd be testing the people who loved me, pulling away from them almost for the sole reason of seeing if anyone would come after me.
— Robin Hobb, Fool's Assassin
I remember myself as a child, pudgy and awkward and unsure of myself. For a moment I wonder how anyone could love such a child as that, let alone the woman she promised to become.
— Ashlee Willis, A Wish Made of Glass
Wondering if an adult does a stupid thing should he be tried as a child?
— Chuck Bridges
Rosa!" Sally says. "The police are here to help you, not to hear a lecture on comparative murder rates.
— Justine Larbalestier, My Sister Rosa
She promised to be good. She wasn't.
— Justine Larbalestier, My Sister Rosa
When I was a child I had a fishless aquarium. My father set it up for me with gravel and plants and pebbles before he'd got the fish and I asked him to leave it as it was for a while. The pump kept up a charming burble, the green-gold light was wondrous when the room was dark. I put in a china mermaid and a tin horseman who maintained a relationship like that of the figures on Keat's Grecian urn except that the horseman grew rusty. Eventually fish were pressed upon me and they seemed an intrusion, I gave them to a friend. All that aquarium wanted was the sound of the pump, the gently waving plants, the mysterious pebbles and the silent horseman forever galloping to the mermaid smiling in the green-gold light. I used to sit and look at them for hours. The mermaid and the horseman were from my father. I have them in a box somewhere here, I'm not yet ready to take them out and look at them again.
— Russell Hoban, Turtle Diary
She is bending over her child. She can’t leave her. Thechild is laid out in state on a table. She wants to take one more photograph of the child, probably the last. In life, the child would never sit still for a photograph. She says to herself, “I’m going to get the camera,” as if saying to the child, “Don’t move.
— Lydia Davis, Can't and Won't: Stories
Like a dying ember, the child in us can flare up again when we least expect it..
— Peggy Toney Horton, Stop the World and Get Off
If you ever want to remember anything, tell it to a child.
— Charmaine J. Forde
You are not the happy, unthinking child you have always appeared to be, accepting everything at its face value. You are not just one of the women of the household. You are Renisenb who wants to think for herself, who wonders about other people.
— Agatha Christie, Death Comes as the End
She had the power to remove a child from an unkind parent and she sometimes did. But remove herself from an unkind husband? When she was weak and desolate? Where was her protective judge?
— Ian McEwan, The Children Act
Whether he acted rightly or not, I have never been sure. It was the future of a child that was at stake. A child, he felt, ought to be given the benefit of a doubt.
— Agatha Christie, Towards Zero
Sometimes she walks through the village in herlittle red dressall absorbed in restraining herself,and yet, despite herself, she seems to moveaccording to the rhythm of her life to come.She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,half-turns around...and, all while dreaming, shakes her headfor or against.Then she dances a few stepsthat she invents and forgets,no doubt finding out that lifemoves on too fast.It's not so much that she steps outof the small body enclosing her,but that all she carries in herselffrolics and ferments.It's this dress that she'll rememberlater in a sweet surrender;when her whole life is full of risks,the little red dress will always seem right.
— Rainer Maria Rilke
ParentNothing … No One Prepares a parent to raise the childNothing … No One Can ever prepare a parent to bear the loss of child
— Neena Verma, A Mother's Cry... A Mother's Celebration
She had not given me the cross to keep the bad men away, as a child might have been expected to do. No, in her mind the bad men could not be kept away. They were coming, and they would have to be faced.
— John Connolly, The Burning Soul
Woe to the heart that has not loved in youth!
— Ivan Turgenev, Home of the Gentry
When you discipline a child you prepare them for a responsible and accountable adulthood.
— Gugu Mona
Seeing your child for the first time is rarest of occasions. You see glimpses of yourself from the past. The potential of a brand new life happening right before your eyes. And most importantly, that life begins again.
— J.R. Rim
When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child, then he will return, and not before.
— George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons
He wants his children to have an old life and a new life, a life that is indivisible from all lives past, that grows from them, exceeds them, and another that is original, pure, free, that is beyond the prejudice which protects us, the habit which gives us shape. He wants them to know both degradation and sainthood, the one without humiliation, the other without ignorance.
— James Salter
I can't get it why did I name my book series, I'm talking about "The Life Of One kid". I'm talking about the last word "Kid"?? Aren't your curious I'm with British Accent and putting "Kid" the American word for child the last? I'm also curious I still don't know, I really don't know why. Child sounds like a baby maybe that's all, kid sounds like a child in aobut 7-8 years old!
— Deyth Banger
You are an intriguing combination, half child, half seductress, half angel.
— V.C. Andrews
Exaggeration is the melodramatic child of truth.
— Khang Kijarro Nguyen
The day after two feet of snow paralyzed the eastern part of the United States, the sun shone brightly from clear blue skies and it was as if nothing had ever happened – except for the deep snow that still covered the ground.Peggy Toney Horton wrote:“This beautiful sunny afternoon reminds me of a child who misbehaved and then looked at his mother with wide eyes and declared, ‘I didn't do it!
— Peggy Toney Horton
She really was pretty, for a grown-up, but when you are seven, beauty is an abstraction, not an imperative.
— Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane
Right mothering meets the child’s need. Focusing on what the child should not be draws resistant energy. Pointing out what the child should be feeds self-hatred and struggle.
— Vimala McClure, The Tao of Motherhood
We must stop calling bribes in our higher institutions “helping my child to gain admission.
— Sunday Adelaja
Had any parent ever succeeded in hiding marital unhappiness from their child?
— Rafael Yglesias
I have seen Ikpea too. Ikpea is not dead
—  he is in the evil forest with Amende… Pg.70
I know what it is: it's a green mamba snake away up in the tree. You don't have to be afraid of them anymore because you are one. They lie so still on the tree branch; they are the same everything as the tree. You could be right next to one and not even know. It's so quiet there. That's just exactly what I want to go and be, when I have to disappear. Your eyes will be little and round but you are so far up there you can look down and see the whole world, Mama and everybody. The tribes of Ham, Shem, and Japheth all together. Finally you are the highest one of all.
— Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible
The child is innocence and forgetting, a new beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a sacred Yes.
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
A.J. watches Maya in her pink party dress, and he feels a vaguely familiar, slightly intolerable bubbling inside of him. He wants to laugh out loud or punch a wall. He feels drunk or at least carbonated. Insane. At first, he thinks this is happiness, but then he determines it's love. Fucking love, he thinks. What a bother.
— Gabrielle Zevin, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry
If Jana had been given to putting her thoughts into words, she might have told Laxmi that without someone to love,there was no reason to live.
— Anne McCaffrey
The abject impulse is inalienably connected with the feminine, specifically the maternal. As it forms out of the undefined morass of relations, surfaces and currents that existed before the Oedipal or mirror-stage coordinated them, the subject seems built around a primal sense of loss. The developing sense of the limits of the body is focussed on those holes in it's surface through which the outside becomes inside and vice versa: the mouth, anus, genitals, even the invisibly porous surface of the skin. It was the mother's body that was most connected with these crossing-points, as it fed and cleaned the undefined infant body. The sense that boundaries and limits are forming around this permable flesh is interpreted then as the withdrawal or even loss, of intimacy with the body of the mother, firstly in the increasing distance of the practical hygiene operations it performs and secondly, more remotely, beyond that in it's archaic ur-form as the body through which the child entered into the world.
— Nick Mansfield
Disclosure without therapy is the second rape of the child.
— Jean G. Moore, The ABC of Child Protection
I know what it is to be hungry, and it is very hard when one cannot even pretend it away. -Sara
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
According to the prophecy a child was going to come along that would be part human and part robot and this child was going to change everything. Of course it was way too soon – both sides were totally unprepared, not to mention the fact that they had their parts mixed up. The girls were only interested in romance, and the robots in completing a transaction.
— Kathryn Davis, Duplex
When you’re a child the world forbears you, allows you your flights of imagination, your feelings of specialness. But sooner or later the privileges are withdrawn, and all you’re left with is a stunned bitterness at the realisation that you’re just the same as everybody else.
— Michael Marshall Smith, Only Forward
Pack animals always tear apart the weaklings in their midst. Every child knows that much instinctively.
— Peter Watts, Blindsight
I was eight years old and scared, and had no idea what was going on
— Sarah Todd Hammer
Raising a child whether yours or not, is being anointed by God to be the guardian of his Kingdom in a form of a child.
— Unarine Ramaru
Cowards excuse themselves by the children. Heroes excuse the children. (Les lâches s'excusent par les enfants. - Les héros excusent les enfants.)
— Charles de Leusse
The reason why Jane’s spirit was not broken was that she had a secret. It was her own special secret and she had told no one else except Peggy. She locked it in her heart and hugged it to herself. It was this glorious secret that filled her with such irrepressible joy and exhilaration. But it was also to be the cause of her greatest disaster, and her life-long grief.The rumour that her father was a high-born gentleman in Parliament must have reached Jane’s ears when she was a little girl. Perhaps she had heard the officers talking about it, or perhaps another child had heard the adults talking and told her. Perhaps Jane’s mother had told another workhouse inmate, who had passed it on. One can never tell how rumours start.To Jane, it was not a rumour. It was an absolute fact. Her daddy was a high-born gentleman, who one day would come and take her away. She fantasised endlessly about her daddy. She talked to him, and he talked to her.
— Jennifer Worth, Shadows of the Workhouse
I was scared...and did not know what was coming for me next.
— Sarah Todd Hammer
Harry... take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents...
— J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Evening you gather backall that dazzling dawn has put asunder:you gather a lamb, gather a kid,gather a child to its mother.
— Sappho, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho
I firmly believe that I have received the same child I was meant to receive, whether I gave birth or adopted. The same soul, the same entity, was meant to be mine, from the beginning of time.
— Debra Shiveley Welch
When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.
He was nine years old; he was a child; he he knew his own soul, it was precious to him, he guarded it as the eyelid guards the eye, and without the key of love he let no one into his soul.
— Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
Would the child you were yesterday admire the person you are today? If not, adjust for desired results.
— Ziad K. Abdelnour, Economic Warfare: Secrets of Wealth Creation in the Age of Welfare Politics
A week is a long time in the life of a child.
— Maxwell Grantly
We need to empower every single child no matter who you are, no matter where you come from to have the best education and the best future.
— Ziad K. Abdelnour
A Child raised in the Mud should never point an accusing finger at a Pig.
— Olaotan Fawehinmi
Momma was with the pony last night. Lily and me have him in the mornings, and we give him a wash with the shammy cloths and a soapy bucket so he's ready for Jade to look after him the next night. I think Momma must ride him too rough because he's always sweating and white-eyed when we get him, pulling tight at his rope and spreading his wide beige lips. He won't settle forever and ever, he just turns circles around the stake. Me and Lily get nervy watching him paw scoops out of the backyard soil.
— Kirsty Logan, The Rental Heart and Other Fairytales
Child who does not play is not a child, but the man who does not play has lost forever the child who lived within him and who he will miss terribly
— Pablo Neruda
Whether I felt strong and courageous or not, I would now have to be for my baby boy.
— Abeba Habtu, Become Courageous Abeba: A Story of Love, Loss, War and Hope
If you have taught your child how to walk when he is all alone, it means that you have taught him everything!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
You can’t play with everything that looks playable, I guess even a child knows that.
— M.F. Moonzajer
If you are waiting to gain power to do something
—  then there is no difference between you and an unborn child.
The most perfect magic for a child is the touch of a loving hand!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
He can feel them, reaching out for the child, groping their way to its purity…
— J. Valor, Salome
When you make a child happy, the best gift you will ever get will be the smile of that child!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
A childish feeling, I admit, but, when we retire from the conventions of society and draw close to nature, we involuntarily become children: each attribute acquired by experience falls away from the soul, which becomes anew such as it was once and will surely be again.
— Mikhail Lermontov
She knows that it's not my fault if I don't know how many Zs there are in LOSER.
— Lauren Child, Clarice Bean Spells Trouble
He tossed a word like a ball, never letting it fall. Instead it swam in the air, without care, strung together with an art that came straight from his heart.
— David Paul Kirkpatrick, The Address Of Happiness
Just a child. All this time we've feared you, sought you. And you're nothing more than a human child.
— Joshua Winning, Sentinel
When you see a child starving and you think government failed. But I think God failed , could not even fill the hunger of a child.
— John Art
No child’s face is dirty even if it is muddy, because an innocent face has so much light that anything comes onto it becomes almost invisible!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
Child! Turn your face to the light, to the science, to the reason, to the truth, to the peace! Child! Be modern, be compassionate, be individual, and be independent! Child! Don’t be the man of anyone or any system, don’t believe in any religious stories, and don’t ever be silent against any oppressor! Child, turn your face to the light and walk towards the light!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
Miroku: Kagome, are you worrying about me?Kagome: I guess so.Miroku: In that case, I have a favor to ask of you: please bear my child.
— Rumiko Takahashi
Every night I tell my children all of the things that I love about them. I tell them how proud I am of their accomplishments and how much better our lives have been since they were born. I hope they will always realize how much they are loved and valued. I feel so blessed that they are in my life.
— Tom Giaquinto
Natalie was buried in the family plot, next to a gravestone that already bore her parents' names. I know the wisdom, that no parents should see their child die, that such an event is like nature spun backward. But it's the only way to truly keep your child. Kid grow up, they forge more potent allegiances. They find a spouse or a lover. They will not be buried with you. The Keenes, however, will remain the purest form of family. Underground.
— Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects
Time. Time has a way of standing still during the moments that define one’s life.The first kiss, the birth of one’s first child, a paralyzing car accident, hearing of the death of a parent, the last kiss.
— Benjamin M. Strozykowski, Psychic Skin Volume 2
WHAT am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name? repeating it over and over;	 I stand apart to hear—it never tires me.	 To you, your name also;	 Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in the sound of your name?
— Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
...his lazy eye drifting around the room like a child looking for the bathroom.
— Chuck Klosterman, Downtown Owl
You stupid, conceited fool! You know nothing! You're like a child, blind to everything but its own empty stomach! Well, grow up, Carl, and join the real world. Until you do, for God's sake leave me be!
— Amanda Browning, Web of Deceit
You see, there was this man, and he was a good man; he worked hard and did everything to the best of his ability. All he desired was for the most beautiful woman in the kingdom to be his wife. Now this wasn't all bad because she actually loved him too--very much so--but this vizier, he wanted her as well and not for so noble a cause as love.""What did he want her for?"Yashar paused for a moment. "So that people could look at him and say, 'He must be a great man to have such a beautiful wife.'""Oh. I thought he wanted her for sex," said Colby, disappointed.
— C. Robert Cargill, Dreams and Shadows
But sometimes I wanted to feel like a child, to know that he would stand in front of me while waves crashed towards us or arrows come at us.
— Belinda Jeffrey, One Long Thread
The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole..." Max, at that moment, knew that only a child could have given him a weather report like that. On the wall, he painted a long, tightly knotted rope with a dripping yellow sun at the end of it, as if you could dive right into it. On the ropy cloud, he drew two figures-a thin girl and a withering Jew-and they were walking, arms balanced, toward that dripping sun.
— Markus Zusak
I love you, Daisy. I love you so much I hurt.
— Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Kiss an Angel
To simplify your life, just think of yourself as a four-year-old child. Try to imagine the way he thinks of reality. If you have to talk to someone about a so-called complicated matter, see how you can simplify it.No matter with whom you are talking, feel that you are a child and that person is also a child. When a childlike quality comes into your life, everything automatically becomes simple.
— Sri Chinmoy, The Jewels of Happiness: Inspiration and Wisdom to Guide Your Life-Journey
That girl is a grade one a-hole with a severe attitudinal problem.
— Wild Child
So time passed on. And the two skyscrapers decided to have a child. And they decided when their child came it should be a *free* child. "It must be a free child," they said to each other. "It must not be a child standing still all its life on a street corner. Yes, if we have a child she mist be free to run across the prairie, to the mountains, to the sea. Yes, it must be a free child."So time passed on. Their child came. It was a railroad train, the Golden Spike Limited, the fastest long distance train in the Rootabaga Country. It ran across the prairie, to the mountains, to the sea.
— Carl Sandburg
from a child in danger to a dangerous child
— Edward Humes, No Matter How Loud I Shout: A Year in the Life of Juvenile Court
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
— Edna St. Vincent Millay
Lovers, Lunatics and poets are made of same stuff.
— Bhagat Singh
A poem is a naked person....Some people say that I am a poet.
— Bob Dylan
Through the ingenuousness of her age beamed an ardent mind, a mind not of the women but of the poet; she did not please, she intoxicated.
— Alexandre Dumas
Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,and you're hampered by not having any,the best way to solve the dilemma, you'll find, is simply by spinning a penny.No - not so that chance shall decide the affairwhile you're passively standing there moping; but the moment the penny is up in the air,you suddenly know what you're hoping. 
— Piet Hein
Islands are metaphors of the heart, no matter what poet says otherwise.
— Jeanette Winterson, Sexing the Cherry
I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated.
— Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
For Emily Dickinson every philosophical idea was a potential lover. Metaphysics is the realm of eternal seduction of the spirit by ideas.
— Charles Simic
I go out on the side of a hill, maybe hunting deer, and sit there and see the shadow of night coming over the hill, and I can swear to you there is a part of me that is absolutely untouched by anything civilized. There's a part of me that has never heard of a telephone.
— James Dickey
The poets and philosophers I once loved had it wrong. Death does not come to us all, nor does the passage of time dim our memories and reduce our bodies to dust. Because while I was considered dead, and a headstone had been engraved with my name, in truth my life was just beginning.
— L.J. Smith, Bloodlust
Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
— Libba Bray, The Diviners
If your not annoying somebody, you're not alive.
— Margaret Atwood
Only the poet can look beyond the detail and see the whole picture.
— Helen Hayes
And now he is singing a bard's curse upon you, O brother abbot, and upon your father and your mother, and your grandfather and your grandmother, nd upon all your relations.'Is he cursing in rhyme?'He is cursing in rhyme, and with two assonances in every line of his curse.'("The Crucifixion Of The Outcast")
— W.B. Yeats
Life. This morning the sun made me adore it. It had, behind the dripping pine trees, the oriental brightness, orange and crimson, of a living being, a rose and an apple, in the physical and ideal fusion of a true and daily paradise.
— Juan Ramón Jiménez, Time and Space: A Poetic Autobiography
This was but a prelude
—   where books are burnt human-beings will be burnt in the end
I am hard to disgust, but a pretentious poet can do it
— Marianne Moore, Complete Poems
There are many unspeakable words, forgotten, or forbidden.Great thanks to the poets who make them all become reachable.
— Toba Beta
The arts (painting, poetry, etc.) are not just these. Eating, drinking, walking are also arts; every act is an art.
— César Vallejo
Carol looked at her. "How do you become a poet?""By feeling things - too much, I suppose," Therese answered conscientiously.
— Patricia Highsmith, Carol
The American bards shall be marked for generosity and affection and for encouraging competitors… . The great poets are also to be known by the absence in them of tricks and by the justification of perfect personal candor… . How beautiful is candor! All faults may be forgiven of him who has perfect candor.
— Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
The Most Dangerous (Sab Ton Khatarnak - Paash)The most dangerous occurrence is not a robbery of hard work,The most horrifying act is not a torture by the police,A merger of treachery and greed is not the most dangerous.To be trapped while asleep is surely miserable,To be buried under the silence is surely miserable,But it is still not the most dangerous.To remain silent in the noise of corruption is surely miserable,Reading covertly under the light of a firefly is surely miserable,But it is still not the most dangerous.The most dangerous deed is to be filled with a dead silence,Not feeling any agony against the unjust and bearing it all.Getting trapped in the routine of running from home to work and from work to home,The most dangerous accident is a death of our dreams.The most dangerous thing is that watch which runs on your wrist, but stands still for your eyes**A Translation of Paash's poem Sab ton Khatarnak by Jasz Gill
— Paash
Intelligence is not to make no mistakes, but quickly to see how to make them good.
— Bertolt Brecht
Love beauty
—  it is the shadow of God on the universe
Aviation in air, in water and in spirit. Its laws are different in all three cases. The spirit soars the more it weighs and sinks into itself. The heavier the spirit, the higher and farther it flies.
— César Vallejo
The pure and poorly adapted one who crashed against the world of fakes and cheats.
— César Vallejo
Mechanics is a means or discipline for the realization of life, but not life itself. It ought to carry us to life itself.
— César Vallejo
The worst Persian voluptuary could never have imagined my most ordinary day.
— Lew Welch
For poets the wages of sin are poverty.
— William Logan
There Are No Believers in This World:There Are Only the Make Believers and the Non-Believers.
— Sharon Esther Lampert
The poet is rather one who inspires than one inspired.
— Paul Éluard, Ralentir, Travaux = Slow, Under Construction
Dear Gris, if there's one thing I can't abide it's a bad poet.
— Cat Hellisen, When the Sea Is Rising Red
Some can't handle the fiery poet, how she rips into souls burning words into prose.
— Melody  Lee, Moon Gypsy
One day I shall leave the world,And if you feel like remembering me-Search me not in my ashes,In my words, you can rummage me!
— Neelam Saxena Chandra
So you find Miss Mercer beautiful?”The buzzing in Spencer’s head formed the words, “’She walks in beauty like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies.’”“My God, now you’re quoting poetry.”Had he said that aloud? Bloody hell. Spencer brandished his empty mug at his brother. “I always quote verse when I’m foxed.”“You must be very foxed to quote that idiot Byron. Or very impressed by Miss Mercer’s looks.
— Sabrina Jeffries, Married to the Viscount
What is poetry? The person who answers it, can't be a poet!
— TRIPURARI
Read the lines as if they were unknown to you, and you will feel in your inmost self how very much they are yours.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
Perhaps he even needs to have been a critic and a sceptic and a dogmatist and an historian, and in addition a poet and collector and traveller and puzzle-solver and moralist and seer and ‘free spirit’ and nearly all things, so that he can traverse the range of human values and value-feelings and be able to look with many kinds of eyes and consciences from the heights into every distance, from the depths into every height, from the corners into every wide expanse.
— Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil
I should think a poet president would be able to create a delectable confluence of various spaces. A poet is most political.
— Meia Geddes, Love Letters to the World
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about the planet of Golgafrincham: it is a planet with an ancient and mysterious history, rich in legend, red, and occasionally green with the blood of those who sought in times gone by to conquer her; a land of parched and barren landscapes, of sweet and sultry air heady with the scent of the perfumed springs that trickle over its hot and dusty rocks and nourish the dark and musky lichens beneath; a land of fevered brows and intoxicated imaginings, particularly among those who taste the lichens; a land also of cool and shaded thoughts among those who have learned to forswear the lichens and find a tree to sit beneath; a land also of steel and blood and heroism; a land of the body and of the spirit. This was its history. And in all this ancient and mysterious history, the most mysterious figures of all were without doubt those of the Great Circling poets of Arium. These Circling Poets used to live in remote mountain passes where they would lie in wait for small bands of unwary travelers, circle around them, and throw rocks at them. And when the travelers cried out, saying why didn’t they go away and get on with writing some poems instead of pestering people with all this rock-throwing business, they would suddenly stop, and then break into one of the seven hundred and ninety-four great Song Cycles of Vassillian. These songs were all of extraordinary beauty, and even more extraordinary length, and all fell into exactly the same pattern.
— Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
City of Vassillian a party of five sage princes with four horses. The princes, who are of course brave, noble and wise, travel widely in distant lands, fight giant ogres, pursue exotic philosophies, take tea with weird gods and rescue beautiful monsters from ravening princesses before finally announcing that they have achieved enlightenment and that their wanderings are therefore accomplished. The second, and much longer, part of each song would then tell of all their bickerings about which one of them is going to have to walk back. All this lay in the planet’s remote past.
— Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
He wouldn't perform without a recording now, she was certain, like a poet working in the oral tradition who had been contaminated by the advent of the recording device and so insisted that all improvisations be saved for posterity.
— David Cronenberg, Consumed
I think it’s vital. It’s odd to me because many people say we live in these awful times and we need culture and art especially in times like these, in these dire times. Well, first of all, I don’t think these times are more dire than other times. People who say that just need to go back and read Herodotus, read any book of history, read a biography of Attila the Hun. If people are going to wring their hands over these troubled times, I would think that humor should be indispensable. I find it strange that –at least in my take on it—the people who are the most alarmed about the dire times we live in are the ones who seem to be humorless, in their taste for poetry anyway. Humor is just an ingredient.
— Billy Collins
I do not say these things for a dollar, or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat;
— Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
It is almost as thoughsomething else is breathingquite close by, invisibly.The mystery of the names…Albizzia. Gleditsia.Aucuba japonica. AndI am listening, seeing. Seeing,like someone twice alive.
— John      Allison
In dividing the light, things are seen. And we notice ourselves.
— John      Allison
Poetry for me is a result of lyrical meditation, pre-verbal in origin, and much of the craft has to do with finding a contemporary diction that embodies, at times subverts but never betrays that pre-verbal lyrical source: the presence of song before it is sung.
— John      Allison
And if other old men must be willing, at the end, to push up off their deathbed and adventure out into the unknown, how much more willing must that man be whose whole life has been just such a daily exercise of adventuring, even in the stillness of his own garden? I mean, the poet.
— David Malouf, An Imaginary Life
It is one of the maladies of our age to profess a frenzied allegiance to truth in unimportant matters, to refuse consistently to face her where graver issues are at stake.
— János Arany
The poet gives his whole life such a voluntarily steep incline that it is impossible for it to exist in the vertical line of biography where we expect to meet it. It is not to be found under his own name and must be sought under those of others, in the biographical columns of his followers. The more self-contained the individuality from which the life derives, the more collective, without any figurative speaking, is its story.
— Boris Pasternak, Safe Conduct: An Autobiography and Other Writings
I am poetry in motion
— Jazar Kahr, Expressions of a Poet
Just as the poet is a menace to conformity, he is also a constant threat to political dictators. He is always on the verge of blowing up the assembly line of political power.
— Rollo May, The Courage to Create
He informed Byrdie that his social engineering ambitions betrayed all the delusions of grandeur that you might expect from the son of a poet.
— Nell Zink, Mislaid