Great Throughts Treasury

"You can imagine how that went over."

"You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself."

"You can mean more than one. You can mean thousands. I'm not in any immediate danger, I'll say to you. I'll pretend you can hear me. But it's no good, because I know you can't."

"You can wipe your feet on me, twist my motives around all you like, you can dump millstones on my head and drown me in the river, but you can?t get me out of the story. I?m the plot, babe, and don?t ever forget it."

"You can?t make an omelet without breaking eggs, is what he says. We thought we could do better. Better? I say, in a small voice. How can he think this is better?"

"You can't execute me twice."

"You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave."

"You can think clearly only with your clothes on."

"You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word shatter. I want to be with someone."

"You can?t buy it, but it has a price, said Oryx. Everything has a price."

"You could tell a lot about a person from their fridge magnets, not that he'd thought much about them at the time."

"You can't keep a cool head when you're drowning in love. You just thrash around a lot and scream, and wear yourself out."

"You couldn?t leave words lying around where our enemies might find them."

"You fit into me like a hook into an eye a fish hook an open eye."

"You don?t know won?t hurt you. A dubious maxim: sometimes what you don?t know can hurt you very much."

"You might even provide a Heaven for them. We need You for that. Hell we can make for ourselves."

"You know I love you. You're the only one."

"You need to give money when someone gives you a knife. So the bad luck won't cut you. I wouldn't like it for you to be cut by the bad luck, Jimmy."

"You refuse to own yourself; you permit others to do it for you"

"You need a certain amount of nerve to be a writer."

"You should not be sad, he said, gazing at me with his melancholy, leathery walrus eyes. It must be the love. But you are young and pretty, you will have time to be sad later. The French are connoisseurs of sadness, they know all the kinds. This is why they have bidets. It is criminal, the love, he said, patting my shoulder. But none is worse.?"

"You must cultivate poverty of spirit. Blessed are the meek. She didn?t go on to say anything about inheriting the earth."

"You wake up filled with dread. There seems no reason for it. Morning light sifts through the window, there is birdsong, you can't get out of bed. It's something about the crumpled sheets hanging over the edge like jungle foliage, the terry slippers gaping their dark pink mouths for your feet, the unseen breakfast--some of it in the refrigerator you do not dare to open--you will not dare to eat. What prevents you? The future. The future tense, immense as outer space. You could get lost there. No. Nothing so simple. The past, its density and drowned events pressing you down, like sea water, like gelatin filling your lungs instead of air. Forget all that and let's get up. Try moving your arm. Try moving your head. Pretend the house is on fire and you must run or burn. No, that one's useless. It's never worked before. Where is it coming form, this echo, this huge No that surrounds you, silent as the folds of the yellow curtains, mute as the cheerful Mexican bowl with its cargo of mummified flowers? (You chose the colors of the sun, not the dried neutrals of shadow. God knows you've tried.) Now here's a good one: you're lying on your deathbed. You have one hour to live. Who is it, exactly, you have needed all these years to forgive?"

"You want the truth, of course. You want me to put two and two together. But two and two doesn?t necessarily get you the truth. Two and two equals a voice outside the window. Two and two equals the wind. The living bird is not its labeled bones."

"You think I'm not a goddess? Try me. This is a torch song. Touch me and you'll burn."

"You shouldn't do that, said Laura. You could set yourself on fire."

"You wonder about her crime. She was condemned to death for stealing clothes from her employer, from the wife of her employer. She wished to make herself more beautiful. This desire in servants was not legal."

"Young girls have such sweet tooths. Or is that sweet teeth?"

"Your friend is intellectually honorable, Jimmy's mother would say. He doesn't lie to himself."

"Your hand is a warm stone I hold between two words."

"You're dead, Cordelia.' No I'm not. 'Yes you are. You're dead. Lie down."

"Your righteous eyes, your laconic trigger-fingers people the streets with villains: as you move, the air in front of you blossoms with targets and you leave behind you a heroic"

"You're sad because you're sad. It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep. Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or a pet. Take up dancing to forget."

"You're not my real parents, every child has thought. I'm not your real child. But with orphans, it's true. What freedom, to thumb your nose authentically!"