Words worth keeping

God can't give us peace and happiness apart from Himself because there is no such thing.

Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

A lot of you cared, just not enough.

I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.

Open your heart. Someone will come. Someone will come for you. But first you must open your heart.

Sonnet XVIII do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul.I love you as the plant that never bloomsbut carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you,so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.

She refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn't boring.

Did you ever think that in a past life Alec was an old woman with ninety cats who was always yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off her lawn? Because I do,

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic.

silence is the language of god, all else is poor translation.

I drink to make other people more interesting.

Ah, my daughter,ʺ he said. ʺEighteen, and already youʹve been accused of murder, aided felons, and acquired a death count higher than most guardians will ever see.ʺ He paused. ʺI couldnʹt be prouder.