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Diary Quotes

Browse 92 quotes about Diary.

Diary Quotes

“Productivity is now sold as a lifestyle. People hustle away and grind for the sake of grinding. New calendars. New dry erase markers. New journals. But when they write in advanced journals, they write of goals and next steps— never of thoughts and secrets. When they write of goals, their goals are to have more goals. So you abandon the empty castle that is productivity and enter the little cottage of your funny heart.”

DreamsAmbitionGoalsProductivityThe Goodbye SongThoughtfulnessDiaryHustlingJournallingSocial Problem
Book:The Goodbye Song
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“I don't think we have ever had real democracy in this country. Anyone who studies adoption of the constitution will understand quite clearly that; democracy - as we understand that on today; was the last thing the founding fathers had in mind when they wrote the constitution ....it was: to establish strong central authority responding the elitist interests in United States. That's private property. And those men who wrote the constitution were representatives of the elites. They were the lawyers, bankers, merchants, the land owners, slave owners and so forth. And they write the constitution for their own private interest$. That is how government has served ever since. And that is why we have so little democracy in United States.”

CiaCampusDiaryFounding FathersPhilAgeeOff Run
Book:CIA Off Campus: Building the Movement Against Agency Recruitment and Research
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“Concert pianists get to be quite chummy with dead composers. They can't help it. Classical music isn't just music. It's a personal diary. An uncensored confession in the dead of night. A baring of the soul. Take a modern example. Florence and the Machine? In the song 'Cosmic Love,' she catalogs the way in which the world has gone dark, distorting her, when she, a rather intense young woman, was left bereft by a love affair. 'The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out.”

MusicMysteryHorrorThrillerSuspenseAnalysisConfessionClassical MusicLove AffairLyricsDiaryCosmic LoveNight FilmFlorence And The MachineFlorence Welch
Book:Night Film
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“We’ve covered ourselves with everything we own, plus a snow blanket on top. It does provide warmth. The snow is everywhere - our pillows, our hair. You stick your head out, take a deal breath, slip under the covers again and breathe out. Feels warm. The snow on your hair melts, then turns to ice. A winter hat. Silence. Darkness... The only thing visible is the snow.”

Soviet UnionSoviet RussiaDiaryGulagLithuanian LiteratureLabour Camp
Book:Shadows on the Tundra
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“Advice to explorers everywhere: if you would like to recieve due credit for your discoveries, keep a detailed account of your journeys as Columbus did. On Septemeber 28, 1492, after four weeks at sea, he writes: Dear diary...I means journal. Yes, dear journal. That's what I meant to say. Whew. Anyway, we have yet to discover America, and the crew has become increasingly rebellious. I have decided to turn back if we have not spotted it by Columbus Day. Will write again later if not killed by crew. P.S. Last night's buffet was fabulous, the ice sculptures magnificent.”

FunnyAmericaDiscoveringJournalExplorersColumbusDiaryColumbus DayIce Sculptures
Book:Another Whole Nother Story
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“Col. James N. Rowe, a United States Army officer who spent five years as a prisoner in Vietnam before escaping in 1968, was shot to death yesterday (April 21, 1989) by gunmen near Manila, where he was a military adviser to the Philippine armed forces. He was 51 years old. Colonel Rowe was being driven to work at the Joint United States Military Advisory Group headquarters in Quezon City, a suburb of Manila, shortly after 7 A.M. when at least two hooded gunmen in a stolen car fired more than 20 bullets into his vehicle. His driver, Joaquin Vinua, was wounded but was reported out of danger. Colonel Rowe was pronounced dead at a nearby military hospital. Communist Rebels Suspected No group immediately claimed responsibility for the attack, but Philippine officials said they believed the killers were Communist rebels. The rebels have threatened to attack American targets unless the United States closes its military bases in the Philippines and ends its support of the Philippine military's fight against the insurgency.”

Vietnam WarDiaryUs ArmyGreen Beret
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, The History of Liberia & West Africa
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“One minute you're closer to someone than anyone in the whole world, next minute they need only to say the words 'time apart', 'serious talk' or 'maybe you...' and you're never going to see them again and will have to spend the next six months having imaginary conversations in which they beg to come back, and bursting into tears at the sight of their toothbrush.”

LoveRelationshipDiaryBridget JonesMark Darcy
Book:Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
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“¡Háblenme de los hebreos en el desierto! ¡Háblenme de los pobres que mueren de hambre y de frío! ¡Háblenme de los clavos de Cristo! ¡Háblenme de los condenados a la hoguera! ¡Háblenme de las madres con sus hijos muertos! ¡Yo! ¡Sólo yo sufro! Yo, que estoy tomando un exquisito café y aspirando la dulce fragancia de este cigarrillo. Yo, que planeo una perfecta apertura social para la próxima semana. ¡Yo! ¡Sólo yo sufro! Yo, que mientras escribo sonrío a una mosca que mastica azúcar y lloro de soslayo para no humedecerla. Yo, sentada, ignota y primaveral riendo de mi jactancia extravagante pero mía. ¡Yo, sólo yo sufro! ¡Háblenme de gitanas sucias y despatriadas! ¡Háblenme de estrellas sin cielo! ¡Háblenme de flores sin pétalos! ¡Yo, sólo yo sufro! ¡Sí! Acá, en mi verde umbrío rincón. ¡Sí! Acá, mientras vivo danzando en la cuerda. ¡Sí! Acá, mustia y pegajosa, llorosa y dolorida. ¡Yo! ¡Sólo yo sufro! umbrío vidrio estridente marea al filo sin son de la tarde muerta tres dríades duermen sentadas en mi ser cansado ya sin llanto sombría y terrestre adrede me extraigo una verde sonrisa sangrante ¿dónde vas, labio muerto sin fondo? ¿dónde vas, impetuoso lanzallamas? Alejandra: recuerda. Recuerda bien todo lo que has oído. Primeramente, debes aprender a separar el sueño de la vigilia. Recuérdalo, y no pienses que «estás desnuda o llevas un traje de vidrio».”

PoetryPoemaDiaryDiarioPizarnikSolo Yo Sufro
Author:Alejandra Pizarnik
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“This evening : Fischl and Mayreder debated on Secession, Fischl pro and Mayreder contra - primarily against Olbrich. It's all very well to dismiss him, to criticize - but just try doing better yourself dear Mayreder ! It was the fourth time that M. had called on us in the last few days, and we're heartily glad to be rid of him. Nobody misses him, myself least of all. - I wonder if he's still fond of me? He's very taken with the Secessionist painters, being particularly 'enamoured' - as he puts it - of Bacher, Engelhart and Klimt. Of the latter he says he can well understand young ladies falling for him "in a big way". Oh yes, that was fun : while Kuehl, Klimt, Mayreder, Jettel etc. were here, Klimt gave me the idea of shaping my bread into a heart. I did so, then he formed a toothpick into an arrow and plunged it into the heart. He took red wine and made it flow from the would. It looked really good. He gave it to Mayreder as 'my wounded heart'. On reflection, I can see that it was a very brutal joke and I regret it, for at the time Mayreder gave me a look that went straight through me. Incidentally, Klimt knows that M. is fond of me. He noticed - and said as much as well. I didn't deny it.”

ViennaDiaryKlimt
Book:Diaries 1898-1902
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“It's strange. When I put something incomprehensible into a picture, it's usually because the form and colour interest me and because it just happens to fit in. Thwn my friends come along : 'What is that suppose to mean _' And they rack their brains for an interpretation, finding so many ingenious explanations that I feel quite proud of all the unarticulated ideas concealed in my pictures." - Fernand Khnopff to Alma Mahler, while walking in the Prater in Vienna, from her diary July 1899”

ViennaDiaryAlma MahlerFernand Khnopff
Author:Fernand Khnopff
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“Dear Diary, My pen is finally touching your pages. It is time to tell our story. Our story began in China and now it continues in America. I want to write about our old life and I want to write about our life now. I will write it all down with hopes that somehow I can connect the two worlds I have lived in. Right now those worlds seem so far apart.”

AdoptionDiaryEpistolaryTransracial AdoptionInternational Adoption
Book:An-Ya and Her Diary
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“Janie ran to my side, where she tugged at the book eagerly as though she'd seen it before. "Flower book," she said, pointing to the cover. "Where did you find Mummy's book?" Katherine asked, hovering near me. Cautiously, I revealed the book as I sat on the sofa. "Would you like to look at it with me?" I said, avoiding the question. Katherine nodded and the boys gathered round as I cracked the spine and thumbed through page after page of beautiful camellias, pressed and glued onto each page, with handwritten notes next to each. On the page that featured the 'Camellia reticulata,' a large, salmon-colored flower, she had written: 'Edward had this one brought in from China. It's fragile. I've given it the garden's best shade.' On the next page, near the 'Camellia sasanqua,' she wrote: 'A christmas gift from Edward and the children. This one will need extra love. It hardly survived the passage from Japan. I will spend the spring nursing it back to health.' On each page, there were meticulous notes about the care and feeding of the camellias- when she planted them, how often they were watered, fertilized, and pruned. In the right-hand corner of some pages, I noticed an unusual series of numbers. "What does that mean?" I asked the children. Nicholas shrugged. "This one was Mummy's favorite," he said, flipping to the last page in the book. I marveled at the pink-tipped white blossoms as my heart began to beat faster. The Middlebury Pink.”

ChildrenFlowersDiaryPlantingDiary EntryGenus SpeciesCamelliaFlora LewisAnna Livingston
Book:The Last Camellia
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“... but I could also write about love. How a hand can silence thousands of voices and how someone’s smell can make you feel at home even though you’re a million miles away from home and have you ever hurt someone you love? Because you’re angry. Because you’re disappointed and sad and you just really wanted to love and be loved in return but life got in the way and you both said things that should never be said and you’re angry but don’t know how to. Because you still feel this strange love for him, but you’re also fucking angry and you want to hit him, but then hug him because hurting him is hurting yourself, and then hit him again because you’re angry! and so you fall on your knees because you’re hopeless to yourself and your own emotions and that’s love, my friend.”

LoveWritingHomeFallHurtSilenceHeartbreakEmotionsAngryWordsSmellMilesKneesWriterHopelessDisappointedFriendWriteFeelHeartbreakingLovedHolding HandsHandVoicesDiaryHitTo LoveHurt Someone
Author:Charlotte Eriksson
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“Am I making something worth while? I’m not sure. I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts, but am I making something worth while? I’m not sure. There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn’t find anything lightly to say, so I simply walked away but still wondered what he did with his life because he didn’t even speak to me or look at me but still made me wonder who he was and I walked away asking Am I making something worth while? I am not sure. I am a complicated person with a simple life and I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.”

LifeHeartPoetrySimpleSilenceLivingCreatingSingingLonelyWordsComplicatedDrunkMeaningProseWriterJournalCreateLivesSingWanderlustTravellingNomadBoyReasonsOn WritingDiaryNomadicBarSingerWalk AwayVagabondOn The RoadExpatSpoke To
Book:Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving
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“And the moment she held that diary in her hands, she summoned all her demons at once. The moment she opened it a hand from every page held her and pulled her inside. And in a moment even before she could realize what was happening to her she was drowning in the sea, fighting to breathe and fighting to swim back to the surface. But the hands kept pulling her down deep into the darkness until her voice died slowly.”

HandsPainTimeVoiceMemoriesDarknessSeaSwimFightDieMomentDiaryDrown
Author:Akshay Vasu
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“I have hated you in every hour that has gone by, I hate you so that I would happily give my life for your death, and happily go to my own doom if only I could witness yours, take you with me into the depths. When I let this hate free, I am almost overcome by it, but I cannot change this and do not really know how it could be otherwise. Let no one deprecate this, nor fool himself about the power of such hatred. Hate drives to reality. Hate is the father of the action. The way out of our defiled and desecrated house is through the command to hate Satan. Only so will be earn the right to search in the darkness for the way of love. In our hatred, we are like bees who must pay with their lives for the use of their stingers.”

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Author:Friedrich Reck-Malleczewen
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“I like her being honourable, and she is it; a perfect lady, with all the dash and courage of the aristocracy, and less of its childishness than I expected. She is like an over ripe grape in features, moustached, pouting, will be a little heavy; meanwhile, she strides on fine legs, in a well cut skirt, and though embarrassing at breakfast, has a manly good sense and simplicity about her which both L. and I find satisfactory. Oh yes, I like her; could tack her on to my equipage for all time; and suppose if life allowed, this might be a friendship of a sort.”

LoveFriendshipLove QuotesVirginia WoolfDiaryLove LettersVita Sackville West
Author:Virginia Woolf
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