Classics Quotes - Page 3

Every new book we read in our brief and busy lives means that a classic is left unread.

She was nothing more than a mere good-tempered, civil and obliging Young Woman; as such we could scarcely dislike her - she was only an Object of Contempt

I can't help suspecting, that there is, or may be some regurgitation from the bath into the cistern of the pump. In that case, what a felicate beveridge is quaffed by the drinkers; medicated with the sweat and the dirt, and dandriff; and the abominable of various kinds, from twenty different diseased bodies, parboiling in the kettle below.

I’ve always found that the better the book I’m reading, the smarter I feel, or, at least, the more able I am to imagine that I might, someday, become smarter.

Read books. As often as you can. Mostly classics.

By reading older books we get a taste of the conversation of Heaven.

A classic is read not to enjoy but only to be boast about it.

I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get.

The last thing he ever said to me was, 'Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.

The elements are a way to define what abstract is; and abstract is a taught as like any other than ,what to think? and how to think? and you may begin..

Ask not the elves for advice, because they will tell you both 'yes' and 'no'.

Perhaps anything that he did would have pleased Lucy, but his awkwardness went straight to her heart.

Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known

It is well known how the monks wrote silly lives of Catholic Saints over the manuscripts on which the classical works of ancient heathendom had been written.

In order to witness clearly the march of humanity from its inception to the present moment, an understanding of how humankind has held encounter with the divine as central is crucial. Ancient humanity provides us with an excellent laboratory for gaining such an understanding.

Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.

You, you insolent brazen bitch - you really dare to shake that monstrous spear in Father’s face?

Alexander the Great slept with 'The Iliad' beneath his pillow. During the waning moon, I cradle Homer’s 'Odyssey' as if it were the sweet body of a woman.

I shall never be converted, and I shall remain true to my old religion of the classics until my life's end.

I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy.