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I Quotes

Browse famous quotes beginning with I. This page is a child index of the full Popular Quotes A-Z directory.

All I Quotes

“I’m never sad when a friend goes far away, because whichever city or country that friend goes to, they turn the place friendly. They turn a suspicious-looking name on the map into a place where a welcome can be found. Maybe the friend will talk about you sometimes, to other friends that live around him, and then that’s almost as good as being there yourself. You’re in several places at once! In fact, my daughter, I would even go so far as to say that the further away your friends, and the more spread out they are the better your chances of going safely through the world…”

“I’m no coward. But I’m no fool, either. I know when to fight, and I know when to survive to fight another day. *** I will not cease to exist. I will not die, no matter how much pain there is. I made a promise to someone. Someone who is my highest star, my brightest sun. Someone I want to be like. I wonder who it is. *** Inside that hollowed-out woman, there’s a place they can’t touch. There’s more to me than I thought there was. Something that no one and nothing can take away from me.”

“I'm no expert, but in my limited experience, women aren't born women. They start out as girls. And every girl, from the moment they can dream, imagines the rescue. The knight. The castle. Life in a fairy tale. If you don't believe me, watch boys and girls on a playground. No one teaches us to do this. The kid in us actually believes in things that are too good to be true. Before life convinces us we can't and they're not. Then life kicks in. Boys become men. Girls become women. For any number of reasons we are wounded and, sadly, wounded people wound people. So many of us grow into doubting, hopeless, callous adults protecting hardened hearts. Medicating the pain. Life isn't what we imagined. Nor are we. And we didn't start out trying to get there. Far from it. But it's who we've become. One day we turn around, and what we once dreamed or hoped is a distant echo. We've forgotten what it sounded like. Once pure and unadulterated, the voice of hope is now muted by all the stuff we've crammed on top of it. And we're okay with that. For some illogical reason, we stand atop the mine shaft of ourselves, shoving stuff into the pipe that is us, telling our very soul, 'Shut up. Not another word.' Why? Because the cry of our heart hurts when unanswered. And the longer it remains unanswered, the deeper the hurt. In self-protection we inhale resignation and exhale indifference. [Murphy Shepherd]”

“I'm no expert on depression. I hadn't even understood my own after Will died. But I found Agnes's moods especially hard to fathom. My mother's friends who suffered depression—and there seemed to be a dismaying number of them—seemed flattened by life, struggling through a fog that descended until they could see no joy, no prospect of pleasure. It obscured their way forward. You could see it in the way they walked around town, their shoulders bowed, their mouths set in thin lines of forbearance. It was as if sadness seeped from them.”

“I'm no expert when it comes to confectionery, but I understand that unsalted butter is used as standard in baking. By contrast, the West buttercream uses salted butter. That salinity really brings out the overall sweetness of the cake, adding depth to its richness. The sponge has a satisfying density to it, declaring itself roughly on the tongue, scented like eggs and flour. The Christmas cakes I've eaten up until now have all been shortcakes, and it's always seemed to me that the delicate, fluffy whipped cream and the sweet sourness of the strawberries obliterate the aroma and the texture of the sponge.”

“I‘m no good at loving people but… I will love you like the darkness loves the stars. I'm the goddess of the night. I will smear my ink over your skin, and leave paper cuts where the light can get in. I will break you then make you whole. You‘ll be the moon lighting up the sky. But I will never be done – we‘ll dance together until my darkness is gone.”

“I'm No Poet (The Sonnet) I thought I could bear the title poet, But as it turns out, I cannot. I can barely bear the title of scientist, Let alone adding another next to it. Each title feels like a burden herculean, My heart cannot function with such burden. If I am to create works of life and wholeness, I must be free from titles, sane and insane. My ideas are not born of mere thought, If they were, there wouldn't be any torment. My work comes from a land beyond labels, A place deeper than thought can penetrate. So you may call me whatever you like. In my mind, I am but a nameless light.”

“I'm nobody. I'm just a tiny little character in the big book of your life. And you're right. People do die. All of them. Bar none. So what does it even mean? I call someone crazy because not everybody is crazy. I call someone brilliant because not everyone is brilliant. But everybody dies. Squirrels die. Tress die. Skin cells die and your inner organs die and the person you were yesterday's dead too. So what does it mean to die? Not much.”

“I’m nobody’s sidekick,” Annabeth growled. “And, Percy, his accent sounds familiar because he sounds like his mother. We killed her in New Jersey.” Percy frowned. “I’m pretty sure that accent isn’t New Jersey. Who’s his—? Oh.” It all fell into place. Aunty Em’s Garden Gnome Emporium—the lair of Medusa. She’d talked with that same accent, at least until Percy had cut off her head. “Medusa is your mom?” he asked. “Dude, that sucks for you.”

“I'm not a big believer in most things occult,' Halina said. "But I do believe the world is a more mysterious place than we often recognize - or care to admit. If there is some natural power in the earth under us, some magnetic current yet undiscovered, and if there are individuals who can tap it, then they're probably those men we say have charisma. Not silly movie stars or singers, not the cheap charisma of entertainers. I'm speaking now of those with great charisma, the power to infect enormous numbers of others with their ego-driven fantasies. Hitler. Stalin. Mao.”