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Guests Quotes

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Guests Quotes

“THE UNFORGIVEN Tell me if you've ever had to deal with these kinds of people: The kind who take and don't give. The kind to whom you give and give, And they keep asking. The kind to whom you give and give and they say you gave nothing. The kind whom have never offered anything, But act like they're the ones providing EVERYTHING. The kind you give and give, But take more than you can give. And when they have already taken everything, They get mad at you when you say you have Nothing more to give. The unforgiving, The misgiving, Wastefully living - And selfishly driven. The rat that never gives back, Yet is so quick to attack - Because they think the word TAKING Seriously means GIVING.”

GivingForgetFamilyFriendsGreedSelfishGenerositySelfishnessGenerousGuestsSelflessGreedyEnemiesGiverGiveReciprocityAttackUnforgivingUnforgivableTakingRatWastefulRecieveTakerMisgivingSelfishly DrivenUnforgiveWastefully Living
Book:Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
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“In Iran, when a guest comes, you tell them they may be angels, they are welcome and the whole house is filled with the joy of their presence. And the person always apologizing is the host, that they might have more to offer. But here, it seems guests are supposed to apologize all the time that they're taking anything. It's like they think the host is burdened. I don't understand it. But I know I never want to go to the house of any of these grown-ups, who make you beg for so little. I don't want the cracker sandwiches they made with all the groaning in their hearts. I don't want to be poor. But if I can't have that, then I don't want them to know how hungry I am.”

PovertyCharityHungerGenerosityGuestsHostingHosts
Book:Everything Sad Is Untrue
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“Pay to go inside Neruda's home A body lies there with no dome. But right there in the front hall Lean a fairy against the icy wall. Oh Endless enigmas had the bard! Nice and large and calm backyard Ends In the middle of a rare room Rare portrait of revelishing gloom. Up climbing at the weird snail stair Does make you grasp for some air. And there's a room with bric-a-brac: Old and precious books all in a pack. Dare saying what I liked most of all? Enjoyed seeing visitors having a ball!”

PeopleLoveArtPoetryHouseWomenPoetPoemAncientOddGuestsVisitingOldTourismLyricsVisitorsPrecious ThingsPreciousWallsRarityRareMuseumVisitRhymesOdeTourBardPablo NerudaNerudaArt CollectionArt CollectorOld PieceRhymedAcrostiLa ChasconaPablo Neruda OdePablo Neruda Poetry PopulismPreciosity
Book:ACross Tic
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“Keeping the door that leads to your heart ajar is destructive as univited guests would move in and trample on your feelings, leaving you in great pains, but closing it always is a sure way to spot out the destructive and innovative guests.”

PeopleHeartPainFriendshipPersonalityEmotionsDestructionInnovationFood For ThoughtDiscriminationRecognitionGuestsFalsehoodFriendshipsVisitorsMichael Bassey JohnsonDoorFake FriendsTestHeart To HeartTrue FriendsInvitationGuestVisitorHard HeartedAjarSpotting Out
Author:Michael Bassey Johnson
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“Open the windows and the doors, she shouted, cook some meat and fish, buy the largest turtles around, let strangers come in and spread their mats in the corners and urinate in the rose bushes and sit down to eat as many times as they want, and belch and rant and muddy everything with their boots, and let them do whatever they want to us, because that's the only way to drive off ruin.”

GuestsHospitalityUrsulaBohemianism
Book:One Hundred Years of Solitude
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“Josephine!" A stentorian bellow shook the candles in their sconces. Unconsciously, Amy grabbed Richard’s arm, looking about anxiously for the source of the roar. About the room, people went on chatting as before. "Steady there." Richard patted the delicate hand clutching the material of his coat. "It’s just the First Consul." Snatching her hand away as though his coat were made of live coals, Amy snapped, "You would know." "Josephine!" The dreadful noise repeated itself, cutting off any further remarks. Out of an adjoining room charged a blur of red velvet, closely followed by the scurrying form of a young man. Amy sidestepped just in time, swaying on her slippers to avoid toppling into Lord Richard. The red velvet came to an abrupt stop beside Mme Bonaparte’s chair. "Oh. Visitors." Once still, the red velvet resolved into a man of slightly less than medium height, clad in a long red velvet coat with breeches that must once have been white, but which now bore assorted stains that proclaimed as clearly as a menu what the wearer had eaten for supper. "I do wish you wouldn’t shout so, Bonaparte." Mme Bonaparte lifted one white hand and touched him gently on the cheek. Bonaparte grabbed her hand and planted a resounding kiss on the palm. "How else am I to make myself heard?" Affectionately tweaking one of her curls, he demanded, "Well? Who is it tonight?" "We have some visitors from England, sir,"his stepdaughter responded. "I should like to present…" Hortense began listing their names. Bonaparte stood, legs slightly apart, eyes hooded with apparent boredom, and one arm thrust into the opposite side of his jacket, as though in a sling. Bonaparte inclined his head, looked down at his wife, and demanded, "Are we done yet?" Thwap! Everyone within earshot jumped at the sound of Miss Gwen’s reticule connecting with Bonaparte’s arm. "Sir! Take that hand out of your jacket! It is rude and it ruins your posture. A man of your diminutive stature needs to stand up straight." Something suspiciously like a chuckle emerged from Lord Richard’s lips, but when Amy glanced sharply up at him, his expression was studiedly bland. A dangerous hush fell over the room. Flirtations in the far corners of the room were abandoned. Business deals were dropped. The non-English speakers among the assemblage tugged at the sleeves of those who had the language, and instant translations began to be whispered about the room – suitably embellished, of course. "It’s an assassination attempt!" a woman next to Amy cried dramatically, swooning back into the arms of an officer who looked as though he didn’t quite know what to do with her, but would really be happiest just dropping her. "No, it’s not, it’s just Miss Gwen," Amy tried to explain. Meanwhile, Miss Gwen was advancing on Bonaparte, backing him up so that he was nearly sitting on Josephine’s lap. "While we are speaking, sir, this habit you have of barging into other people’s countries without invitation – it is most rude. I will not have it! You should apologise to the Italians and the Dutch at the first opportunity!" "Mais zee Italians, zey invited me!" Bonaparte exclaimed indignantly. Miss Gwen cast Bonaparte the severe look of a governess listening to substandard excuses from a wayward child. "That may well be," she pronounced in a tone that implied she thought it highly unlikely. "But your behaviour upon entering their country was inexcusable! If you were to be invited to someone’s home for a weekend, sirrah, would you reorganise their domestic arrangements and seize the artwork from their walls? Would you countenance any guest who behaved so? I thought not." Amy wondered if Bonaparte could declare war on Miss Gwen alone without breaking his peace with England. "So much for the Peace of Amiens!" she started to whisper to Jane, but Jane was no longer beside her.”

GuestsDecorumTreatyMiss GwenNapoleaon Bonaparte
Book:The Secret History of the Pink Carnation
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“A good book is like a guest. They stay with you for a while, and when they leave, you are still smiling, and thinking they left a little too soon. You will always remember their pleasant company; things they said that moved you and maybe changed your perspective You plan to invite them again so you can spend quality time together and when you invite them in, you are full of anticipation about the new discoveries you will make when you are together.”

BooksGuestsLife Changing Book
Author:Suzy Davies
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“Love entered in my heart one dayA sad, unwelcome guest.But when it begged that it might stayI let it stay and restIt broke my nights with sorrowingIt filled my heart with fearsAnd, when my soul was prone to sing,It filled my eyes with tears.But...now that it has gone its way,I miss the dear ole pain.And, sometimes, in the night I prayThat Love might come again.”

WayHeartSoulSometimesMightEyePainNightGoneMissingTearsMy HeartOne DayFilledDearMy SoulBrokeGuestsUnwelcome
Author:J. California Cooper
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“When I came back from Pakistan, I wanted to take computer classes nearby. I asked my brother. I was in my home, cooking for my family, and all our relatives and guests. But I said, "I want to live my life as a woman, but I want to study." But, he told me, "Just study at home, you don't need to go out." He said, "If you go to the courses, what will our relatives say? They will lose respect for us." They told me, "We know you're feeling different, but we cannot do anything about it."”

IfsKnowsWantNeedsSaidDifferentFeelingsHomeWantedCoursesLosesClassStudyBrotherComputerMy FamilyCookingMy BrotherGuestsLiving My LifePakistanHome Cooking
Author:Malina Suliman
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