Read through the most famous quotes by topic #jan
In trying to be perfect, He perfected the art of anonymity, Became imperceptible And arrived nowhere from nowhere. ↗
#art #dejan-stojanovic #imperceptibility #imperceptible #literature
I love you. And I'm going to keep loving you even after you don't know I exist. ↗
#jane #lover-unbound #vishous #love
I seem finally to have stopped worrying about Elinor, and age. She seems now to be perfectly normal -- about twenty-five, a witty control freak. I like her but I can see how she would drive you mad. She's just the sort of person you'd want to get drunk, just to make her giggling and silly. ↗
#characters #control-freaks #elinor-dashwood #filming #jane-austen
There is something perfect to be found in the imperfect: the law keeps balance through the juxtaposition of beauty, which gains perfection through nurtured imperfection. ↗
#beauty #dejan-stojanovic #imperfect #imperfection #juxtaposition
Darkness does not age; nothing is always nothing ↗
#always #darkness #dejan-stojanovic #literature #literature-quotes
If I understand you rightly, you had formed a surmise of such horror as I have hardly words to-- Dear Miss Morland, consider the dreadful nature of the suspicions you have entertained. What have you been judging from? Remember the country and the age in which we live. Remember that we are English, that we are Christians. Consult your own understanding, your own sense of the probable, your own observation of what is passing around you. Does our education prepare us for such atrocities? Do our laws connive at them? Could they be perpetrated without being known, in a country like this, where social and literary intercourse is on such a footing, where every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies, and where roads and newspapers lay everything open? Dearest Miss Morland, what ideas have you been admitting?" They had reached the end of the gallery, and with tears of shame she ran off to her own room. ↗
She was breathtaking in her beauty and her human spirit, he thought, unable to speak as he gazed upon her. Hers was the sort that would not fade or grow jaded with time and years, but flourish, grow more radiant with life and its experience. Hers was a beauty that no other possessed. A beauty he longed to keep, to hide away, to bask in, himself alone. She had become his. He didn’t know when, whether it had been the moment her fingertips had touched him when he was hurt, or if it had grown, like a seed, slowing spreading until Jane had become the root anchoring the shattered pieces of his heart, pulling them tight together until it resembled the organ it should. ↗
#jane #love #romance #sinful #wallingford