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Quote by Jamaica Kincaid

“At the top of the page I wrote my full name [...] At the sight of it, many thoughts rushed through me, but I could write down only this: "I wish I could love someone so much that I would die from it." And then as I looked at this sentence a great deal of shame came over me and I wept and wept so much that the tears fell on the page and caused all the words to become one great big blur.”

Quote by Jamaica Kincaid

Author

Jamaica Kincaid
Jamaica Kincaid

Jamaica Kincaid is a celebrated novelist known for her distinctive style and poignant storytelling. Born on May 25, 1949, she has made significant contributions to the literary world with her works that often explore themes of identity, colonialism, and the complexities of the human experience. more

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“A true Christian is made by faith and love toward Christ. Our sins do not in the least hinder our Christianity, according to the word of the Savior Himself. He deigned to say: not the righteous have I come to call, but sinners to salvation; there is more joy in heaven over one who repents than over ninety righteous ones. Likewise concerning the sinful woman who touched His feet, He deigned to say to the Pharisee Simon: to one who has love, a great debt is forgiven, but from one who has no love, even a small debt will be demanded. From these judgments a Christian should bring himself to hope and joy, and not in the least accept an inflicted despair. Here one needs the shield of faith.”

“TIN MAN: “What have you learned, Dorothy?” DOROTHY: “Well, I think it wasn’t enough just to want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em, and it’s that — if I ever go looking for my heart’s desire, I won’t look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with. Is that right?” GLINDA: “That’s all it is.” The Wizard of Oz, 1939, script by Noel Langley, Florence Ryerson and Edgar Allen Woolf. Based on the book by L. Frank Baum.”

“I still remember our first meeting, when Albers brought him to my house. On the little carriage which carried him from the station, and which was hardly built with such loads in mind, sat a massive figure who appeared even more enormous by virtue of the thick overcoat he wore. Everything about him had the effect of extraordinary permanence and solidity: the deep bass voice; the tweed jacket, already, at that time, almost habitual; the appetite at dinner; and at night, the truly Cyclopean snoring, loud as a series of buzz saws, which frightened the other guests at my Chiemgau country house out of their peaceful slumbers.”