Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Neda Aria

Quote by Neda Aria

Work

Red Wings: A Lust in Paris Novel - Vol. I

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Neda Aria

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Neda Aria. more

You May Also Like

“Dulu aku takut akan dua hal: kekelaman dan maut. Aku akan menyelinap keluar dari tempat tidurku yang kecil pada tengah malam dan mengendap masuk ke tempat tidur ibuku. Kususupkan tubuhku ke tubuhnya yang hangat dan aku tak mau berpisah dari ibuku. Kulengkungkan tubuhku agar menjadi lebih kecil dan kucoba untuk menciutkan diriku hingga ukuran janin yang dapat kembali ke rahim ibuku. Segenap tubuhku bergetar dengan keinginan yag kuat ini dan getar seperti dalam demam. Kupikir tak ada yang dapat menyelamatkan diriku dari maut yang mendekat dalam kelam kecuali jika aku menghilang ke dalam rahim yang hangat dan lembut itu yang akan membungkus diriku sendirian di sana.”

DaughterSafetyLongingMotherhoodMelancholyWombMothers And Daughters
Book:موت معالي الوزير سابقاً
Create image

“This strong and rough man, whose feathers were constantly being ruffled, had suddenly softened and brightened. Something unusual and entirely unexpected had begun to stir in his soul. Three years of separation, three years of a broken marriage had dislodged nothing from his heart. And perhaps every day of those three years he had dreamed of her, of the beloved being who had once said 'I love you' to him. Knowing Shatov, I can say for certain that he would never have allowed himself even to dream that any woman could say 'I love you' to him. He was fiercely chaste and modest, regarded himself as a dreadful freak, hated his own face and character, compared himself to some monster who was fit only to be taken around and exhibited at fairs. As a consequence of all this, he valued honesty above all things and dedicated himself to his convictions to the point of fanaticism; he was sullen, proud, quick to anger and sparing with words.”

LovePsychologyEmotionalLongingConvictionVulnerabilityModestyIntrospectionLiteraryCharacter Study
Book:Demons
Create image

“This strong and rough man, whose feathers were constantly being ruffled, had suddenly softened and brightened. Something unusual and entirely unexpected had begun to stir in his soul. Three years of separation, three years of a broken marriage had dislodged nothing from his heart. And perhaps every day of those three years he had dreamed of her, of the beloved being who had once said 'I love you' to him. Knowing Shatov, I can say for certain that he would never have allowed himself even to dream that any woman could say 'I love you' to him. He was fiercely chaste and modest, regarded himself as a dreadful freak, hated his own face and character, compared himself to some monster who was fit only to be taken around and exhibited at fairs. As a consequence of all this, he valued honesty above all things and dedicated himself to his convictions to the point of fanaticism; he was sullen, proud, quick to anger and sparing with words. But now this single being who had loved him for two weeks (he had always, always believed that!), this being whom he had always regarded as immeasurably superior to himself despite his utterly sober understanding of her faults; this being whom he could forgive everything, everything (of which there really true, so that in his eyes he himself was guilty of everything could be absolutely no before her), this woman, this Marya Shatova, was suddenly question, for just the opposite was actual again in his house, before him again... this was almost impossible to understand!”

LovePsychologyEmotionalLongingConvictionVulnerabilityModestyIntrospectionLiteraryCharacter Study
Book:Demons
Create image

“This was a longing she had never permitted herself to acknowledge. She faced it now. She thought: If emotion is one's response to the things the world has to offer, if she loved the rails, the building, and more: if she loved her love for them-there was still one response, the greatest, that she had missed. She thought: To find a feeling that would hold, as their sum, as their final expression, the purpose of all the things she loved on earth . . . To find a consciousness like her own, who would be the meaning of her world, as she would be of his . .. No, not Francisco d'Anconia, not Hank Rearden, not any man she had ever met of admired . . . A man who existed only in her knowledge of her capacity for an emotion she had never felt, but would have given her life 10 experience ... She twisted herself in a slow, faint movement, her breasts pressed to the desk; she felt the longing in her muscles, in the nerves of her body. Is that what you want? Is it as simple as that?- she thought, but knew There was some unbreakable link between her that it was not simple. love for her work and the desire of her body; as if one gave her the right to the other, the right desire would neg as if one were the completion of the other and the desire would never be satisfied, except by a being of equal greatness.”

Longing
Book:Atlas Shrugged
Create image