Quotessence
Home / Quotes / I Quotes

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

“It was a real revolution. But with one missing feature. That is the feeling in a people that "We have done it once, and if the new lot let us down, we can do it again!" It was that proud, menacing confidence which made the French revolution special. But it's not around in 21st-century Europe. After 1989, the people handed over liberty to the experts. Will they ever want it back?”

“It was a real whale, a photograph of a real whale. I looked into its tiny wise eye and wondered where that eye was now. Was it alive and swimming, or had it died long ago, or was it dying now, right this second? When a whale dies, it falls down through the ocean slowly, over the course of a day. All the other fish see it fall, like a giant statue, like a building, but slowly, slowly.”

“It was a really strange experience. It was very creative for Alejandro Amenábar. It was almost like it was the most I ever felt like I was helping someone paint. They had a very clear idea of what they wanted it to look like, sound like, be like. So, there was no operating outside the box. The only way to help him was to try to really be a part of his imagination and try to make it happen. He's a super kind and loving person. So, you wanted to help him. It just was none of my normal ways of helping a director work at all. So, it was a unique experience for me that way.”

“It was a refuge by the sea, yet she had no interest in the moving tide or the solace it tendered. The haunting wail of her own cry was unfamiliar to her ear, rising from uncharted depths within her. Her heart felt broken and it could not be mended. Her legs felt weak and they could not be strengthened. She lay under the bedcovers and wept, and turned her cheek to rest on the pillow.”

“It was a relief to believe that she was as she seemed, but the more he liked her, the less fair it seemed that she was being fooled. And Hugh wasn't such an ogre that he didn't care for her feelings. On the contrary, he was coming to like her very much. Unlike many society girls, Eliza didn't act as if any gentleman nearby was obliged to amuse her. She expressed such delight in a simple posy, he couldn't help wondering what she would say if he presented her with a real gift. She seemed utterly content to spend time in her garden with her dog, and didn't even evince the slightest boredom at living in Greenwich away from the whirl of society. He told himself it must be easy, with Cross's vast fortune at her disposal; she needn't fret about a dark and drab drawing room, as Edith did, or moan about her lack of new gowns, as Henrietta did. But somehow he knew it wasn't just the money. Eliza wasn't the type to complain. Instead she gave every appearance of being content with her life and taking joy in small pleasures.”

“It was a relief to see his father, who'd always been an unfailing source of reassurance and comfort. They clasped hands in a firm shake, and used their free arms to pull close for a moment. Such demonstrations of affection weren't common among fathers and sons of their rank, but then, they'd never been a conventional family. After a few hearty thumps on the back, Sebastian drew back and glanced over him with the attentive concern that hearkened to Gabriel's earliest memories. Not missing the traces of weariness on his face, his father lightly tousled his hair the way he had when he was a boy. "You haven't been sleeping." "I went carousing with friends for most of last night," Gabriel admitted. "It ended when we were all too drunk to see a hole through a ladder." Sebastian grinned and removed his coat, tossing the exquisitely tailored garment to a nearby chair. "Reveling in the waning days of bachelorhood, are we?" "It would be more accurate to say I'm thrashing like a drowning rat." "Same thing." Sebastian unfastened his cuffs and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. An active life at Heron's Point, the family estate in Sussex, had kept him as fit and limber as a man half his age. Frequent exposure to the sunlight had gilded his hair and darkened his complexion, making his pale blue eyes startling in their brightness. While other men of his generation had become staid and settled, the duke was more vigorous than ever, in part because his youngest son was still only eleven. The duchess, Evie, had conceived unexpectedly long after she had assumed her childbearing years were past. As a result there were eight years between the baby's birth and that of the next oldest sibling, Seraphina. Evie had been more than a little embarrassed to find herself with child at her age, especially in the face of her husband's teasing claims that she was a walking advertisement of his potency. And indeed, there have been a hint of extra swagger in Sebastian's step all through his wife's last pregnancy. Their fifth child was a handsome boy with hair the deep auburn red of an Irish setter. He'd been christened Michael Ivo, but somehow the pugnacious middle name suited him more than his given name. Now a lively, cheerful lad, Ivo accompanied his father nearly everywhere.”

“It was a revelation to learn how many delicious things a person could make from a handful of humble commodity ingredients, using only basic technique and proper seasoning. Onions, flour, potatoes, leeks, eggs, milk, salt, pepper, a metric fuck-ton of butter, and sometimes stocks, or heavy cream, cheese, or sugar: these were the building blocks for such new (to me) wonders as pâte à choux, pommes Anna, pommes boulangère, gratin dauphinois, crème anglaise, potage parmentier, and soupe à l' oignon gratinée.”

“It was a roiling and mobile civilization marked by a steady increase in carnality, vulgarity, brutality. Yet, oddly, the institutions and the accustomed frameworks of liberal parliamentary democracy, of that highest creation of the now passing Modern Age, continued to exist--at a time when civilization itself (a term first appearing in English in 1601) was coming apart. History is not governed by logic: but we must at least consider that this strange duality cannot exist much longer: that sooner or later the very political structure of democracy may undergo a deep-going and at least for a while irreversible transformation, including mutations that may have already begun.”

“It was a roller-coaster process. For a long time I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn't writing with an outline. And, rare for me, I wrote scenes out of sequence. . . . I didn't understand the play when I wrote it. It was something I'd give in to. It happens to me periodically. I give over and write whatever comes to me and I don't know what it means and then I do. It's thrilling.”

“It was a Saturday night in December. I was in my room and I drank much more than usual, lighting cigarette after cigarette, thinking of girls and the city and jobs, and of the years ahead. Looking ahead I liked very little of what I saw. I wasn’t a misanthrope and I wasn’t a misogynist but I liked being alone. It felt good to sit alone in a small space and smoke and drink. I had always been good company for myself.”

“It was a saying in the army that all a Yankee was worth was his shoes, and after Fredericksburg the story went round how a Confederate soldier stopped to pull off the boots of a Union officer supposed to be dead. Suddenly, in the midst of pulling off the first boot, the 'corpse' weakly raised phis head and cursed the rebel for robbing the wounded. 'Beg pardon, sir,' replied the Confederate as he nonchalantly walked away, 'I thought you had gone above.”