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Window Quotes

“My name is Herondale," the boy said cheerfully. "William Herondale, but everyone calls me Will. Is this really your room? Not very nice, is it?" He wandered toward the window, pausing to examine the stacks of books on her bedside table, and then the bed itself. He waved a hand at the ropes. "Do you often sleep tied to the bed?”

SaidBookHandsNamesSleepRoomsBoysNiceBedWindowTablesCall MeTiedRopeVery NiceWill HerondaleYour RoomPausingWilliam Herondale
Book:Clockwork Angel
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“For that moment, at least, all our doors and windows were wide open; we were not carefully shutting out God's purifying light, in order to feel safe and secure; we were bathed in the same light that burned and yet did not consume the bush. We walked barefoot on holy ground.”

FeelsMomentsLightOrderDoorsHolySafeWindowWideSecureThat MomentBurnedBarefootPurifyingHoly Ground
Book:Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art
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“The weak grey light that serves as harbinger of red and golden dawn faintly lit my window. I fumbled for a candle, found and lit it, and by its little light saw that the rose floating in the bowl was dying. It had already lost most of its petals, which floated on the water like tiny, un-seaworthy boats, deserted for safer craft. "Dear God," I said. "I must go back at once.”

LittlesSaidLightFoundLostWaterSawsDyingRedWindowWeakRoseDearTinyGoldenBoatCraftsDawnCandleBowlsGreyFloatingLitPetalsDesertedDear GodHarbinger
Author:Robin McKinley
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“It is like sitting in a traffic jam on the San Diego Freeway with your windows rolled up and Portuguese music booming out of the surround-sound speakers while animals gnaw on your neck and diseased bill collectors hammer on your doors with golf clubs.”

SoundAnimalDoorsSittingWindowBillsGolfClubsNecksSurroundSpeakersTrafficHammersJamCollectorsDiseasedPortugueseFreewaysGolf ClubsSan DiegoTraffic JamSurround Sound
Book:Hey Rube: Blood Sport, the Bush Doctrine, and the Downward Spiral of Dumbness
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“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were!”

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Author:William Shakespeare
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“What's with the disco lights?" Michael said, rolling down the window between the driver's compartment and the back. Eve turned around, and her face brightened. "You like it? I thought it looked really cool. I saw it in a movie, you know, in a limo." "It's cool," Michael said, and smiled at her. She smiled back. "Can't wait to lie here and watch it with you." Claire said, "You don't have to wait; it's working now. Look--Oh. Never mind." She blushed, feeling stupid that she hadn't gotten that one in the first second. Eve winked at her.”

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Book:Ghost Town
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“We want to see a struggle. We want to see people falling over but getting themselves back up on their feet, and that's what's extraordinary- ordinary people and their struggle. There's nothing as interesting as real life out your window. You walk down the street for half an hour, I'll give you half an hour of drama.”

PeopleWantGivingRealFallHoursWalksInterestingHalfStruggleFeetStreetsDramaOrdinaryWindowExtraordinaryReal LifeOrdinary People
Author:Ricky Gervais
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“And indeed there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street rubbing its back upon the window-panes; there will be time , there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; there will be time to murder and create, and time for all the works and days of hands that lift and drop a question on your plate; time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea.”

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Book:The Waste Land, Prufrock and Other Poems
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“In San Francisco - life goes on. Hope rises and dreams flicker and die. Love plans for tomorrow and loneliness thinks of yesterday. Life is beautiful and living is pain. The sound of music floats down a dark street. A young girl looks out a window and wishes she were married. A drunk sleeps under a bridge. It is tomorrow.”

ThinkingLooksDreamPainBeautifulYoungLife IsDiesGirlWishSoundDarkSleepPlansStreetsLonelinessGoes OnTomorrowMarriedWindowYesterdayDrunkBridgesFloatsSan FranciscoLife Goes OnFlickerLife Is BeautifulSound Of Music
Author:Hunter S. Thompson
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“A second floor window opened, and Kyle stuck his head and shoulders out so he could look down at us. “If you two are finished playing Cowboy and Indian out there, some of us would like to get their beauty sleep.” I looked at Warren. “You heard ‘um Kemo Sabe. Me go to my little wigwam and get ‘um shut-eye.” “How come you always get to play the Indian?” whined Warren, deadpan. “Cause she’s the Indian, white boy,” said Kyle.”

IfsLooksLittlesSaidTwoPlayEyeCausesSleepWhiteBoysHeardWindowFinishedStuckShouldersIndianCowboySleeping Beauty
Author:Patricia Briggs
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“Magnus stood up and went to the window. He pushed the curtain back, letting in just enough light to silhouette his hawklike profile. "Blood," he said, half to himself. "I had a dream two nights ago. I saw a city all of blood, with towers made of bone, and blood ran in the streets like water." Simon slewed his eyes over to Jace. "Is standing by the window muttering about blood something he does all the time?" "No," said Jace, "sometimes he sits on the couch and does it.”

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Book:Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (4 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass; City of Fallen Angels
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“Grace is the celebration of life, relentlessly hounding all the non-celebrants in the world. It is a floating, cosmic bash shouting its way through the streets of the universe, flinging the sweetness of its cassations to every window, pounding at every door in a hilarity beyond all liking and happening, until the prodigals come out at last and dance, and the elder brothers finally take their fingers out of their ears.”

WorldWayLastsUniverseGraceDoorsStreetsBrotherHappeningsWindowEarsFingersCosmicCelebrationSweetnessFloatingEldersShoutingCelebrate LifeProdigalsBashCelebration Of LifeHilarity
Book:Between Noon and Three: Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace
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“Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house. Those outside can watch you if they want, but you need not see them. You simply say, "Here are the perimeters of our attention. If you prowl around under the windows till the crickets go silent, we will pull the shades. If you wish us to suffer your envious curiosity, you must permit us not to notice it." Anyone with one solid human bond is that smug, and it is the smugness as much as the comfort and safety that lonely people covet and admire.”

PeopleIfsWantNeedsHumansNightSufferingHouseWishAttentionWatchesComfortSittingWindowLonelySafetySilentCuriosityAdmireShadePermitCricketEnviousLonely PeopleSmugnessPerimeter
Book:Housekeeping: A Novel
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“Frost grows on the window glass, forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry. Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition. Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor. In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . . But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.”

GivingFirstsWholeMovingGrowsCitiesWindowBreathsWingsWinterGlassesPatternsBreatheLovelyIceFairyContinentsCastlesGeometryFrostBlinkMoving InAmmunitionVapor
Author:Vera Nazarian
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“Snowflakes swirl down gently in the deep blue haze beyond the window. The outside world is a dream. Inside, the fireplace is brightly lit, and the Yule log crackles with orange and crimson sparks. There’s a steaming mug in your hands, warming your fingers. There’s a friend seated across from you in the cozy chair, warming your heart. There is mystery unfolding.”

WorldHeartDreamHandsHealingMysteryWindowBlueFingersChristmasChairsWarmthSparksOrangeLitUnfoldingOutside WorldCozySnowflakeCrimsonHazeSwirlsMugFireplacesYule
Author:Vera Nazarian
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“And when we look in through the windows, all we see are shadows. And when we try and listen, all we hear is a whispering. And we cannot understand the whispering, because our minds have been invaded by a war. A war that we have both won and lost. The very worst sort of war. A war that captures dreams and re-dreams them. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves.”

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Book:The God of Small Things
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“A thousand recollected lives were passing through her, a thousand stories - of love and work, of parents and children, of duty and joy and grief. Beds slept in and meals eaten, and the bliss and pain of the body, and a view of summer leaves from a window on a morning it had rained; the nights of loneliness and the nights of love, the soul in it's body keeping always longing to be known.”

ChildrenSoulStoriesBodyPainJoyNightParentViewsGriefKnownMorningLonelinessDutyThousandBedSummerWindowLongingPassingPassingsBlissMealsPassing ThroughChildren And ParentsJoy And Grief
Book:The Passage
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“I cannot live without brainwork. What else is there to live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the street and drifts across the duncoloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material?”

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Book:Sherlock Holmes - The Novels: A Study in Scarlet, The Sign of the Four, The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Valley of Fear
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“It was February sixth: eight days until Valentine's Day. I was dateless, as usual, deep in the vice grip of unrequited love. It was bad enough not having a boyfriend for New Year's Eve. Now I had to cope with Valentine datelessness, feeling consummate social pressure from every retailer in America who stuck hearts and cupids in their windows by January second to rub it in.”

YearsHeartEnoughFeelingsAmericaSocialWindowPressureVicesEightStuckUsualNew YearUnrequited LoveValentineValentine's DayJanuaryUnrequitedFebruaryNew Years EveCupidRetailersSocial Pressure
Author:Joan Bauer
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“Suddenly the full long wail of a ship's horn surged through the open window and flooded the dim room—a cry of boundless, dark, demanding grief; pitch-black and glabrous as a whale's back and burdened with all the passions of the tides, the memory of voyages beyond counting, the joys, the humiliations: the sea was screaming.”

LittlesLongJoyNightPassionBlackMemoriesDarkRoomsGriefSeaCryWindowShipsTidesThirstHumiliationHornsCountingVoyagesBoundlessWhalesGlitterFrenzyNectarConveyingPitch Black
Author:Yukio Mishima
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“When God closes a door, he opens a window. Yeah. The problem was that this particular window opened off the tenth story, and he wasn't so sure God supplied parachutes.”

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Book:The Outlander Series Bundle: Books 5, 6, 7, and 8: The Fiery Cross, A Breath of Snow and Ashes, An Echo in the Bone, Written in My Own Heart's Blood
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“Perhaps you can feel if you can’t hear,” was her fancy. “Perhaps kind thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and walls. Perhaps you feel a little warm and comforted, and don’t know why, when I am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well and happy again.”

PeopleIfsKnowsFeelsWellsKindLittlesDoorsWallColdStandingWindowWarmFancyGet WellHappy AgainKind ThoughtsLittle PrincessWindows And Doors
Book:A Little Princess
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“Oh, Myr," he chokes out. "I hate having to ask this of you..." He glances towards the car again, and I crouch down in the shadows, hoping it's too dark for him to see whether the window is open or closed. The woman pats his arm, cradling her hand against his elbow. "You know I'd do anything for you and Hil," she says. I like her voice. It's throaty and rich. "You'd do anything?" my father repeats numbly. "Even now? After -?" "Even now," the woman says firmly.”

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Author:Margaret Haddix
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