You Left Me Too Soon Quotes

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You Left Me Too Soon Quotes

Ah, mistress, youre an angel. Sure theres not a drop left? I might have remembered one more person ... ." "Up yours," I said rudely with another belch. "Its empty. You should tell me the name anyway, after making me drink all that sewage." Winston gave me a devious smile. "Come back with a full bottle and I will." "Selfish spook," I mumbled, and staggered away. Id made it a few feet when I felt that distinct pins-and-needles sensation again, only this time it wasnt in my throat. "Hey!" I looked down in time to see Winstons grinning, transparent form fly out of my pants. He was chuckling even as I smacked at myself and hopped up and down furiously. "Drunken filthy pig!" I spat. "Bastard!" "And a good evein to you, too, mistress!" he called out, his edges starting to blur and fade. "Come back soon!" "I hope worms shit on your corpse!" was my reply. A ghost had just gotten to third base with me. Could I sink any lower?
— Jeaniene Frost —

Ever since I was fifteen, that is to say from that moment when I lost all that was left me of my childhood, from the moment when I ceased to be aware of the present and knew only the past hurrying into the future, that is to say into the abyss, ever since I became fully conscious of time I have felt old and I have wanted to live. I have run after life as though to catch time, and I have tried to live. I have run after life so much that it has always escaped me, I have run, I have never been late and never too early, and yet I have never caught up with it: it is as though I have run alongside of it.
What is life, I may be asked. For me, life is not Time; it is not this state of existence, for ever escaping us, slipping between our fingers and vanishing like a ghost as soon as you try to grasp it. For me it is, it must be, the present, presentness, plenitude. I have run after life so much that I have lost it.

— Eugène Ionesco

Wherever you go ... , you'll see Heaven and Hell on every side ... in us. Look for them and you'll soon know them. There on your left, Hell shuffles by, carrying a reluctant, gloomy chicken, his only comrade. There on your right, Heaven spring past, singing - a lunatic, a little too much for civilized contact.
Just the way it always was.

— Daniel Quinn

Ah, mistress, you're an angel. Sure there's not a drop left? I might have remembered one more person ... ."
"Up yours," I said rudely with another belch. "It's empty. You should tell me the name anyway, after making me drink all that sewage."
Winston gave me a devious smile. "Come back with a full bottle and I will."
"Selfish spook," I mumbled, and staggered away.
I'd made it a few feet when I felt that distinct pins-and-needles sensation again, only this time it wasn't in my throat.
"Hey!"
I looked down in time to see Winston's grinning, transparent form fly out of my pants. He was chuckling even as I smacked at myself and hopped up and down furiously.
"Drunken filthy pig!" I spat. "Bastard!"
"And a good eve'in' to you, too, mistress!" he called out, his edges starting to blur and fade. "Come back soon!"
"I hope worms shit on your corpse!" was my reply. A ghost had just gotten to third base with me. Could I sink any lower?

— Jeaniene Frost

Oh, you knew that your deed would be preserved in books, would reach tghe depths of the ages and the utmost limits of the earth, and you hoped that, following you, man, too, would remain with God, having no need of miracles. But you did not know that as soon as man rejects miracles, he will at once reject God as well, for man seeks not so much God as miracles. And since man cannot bear to be left without miracles, he will go and create new miracles for himself ... Oh, there will be centuries of free reason, of their science and anthropophagy ... Freedom, free reason, and science willl lead them into such a maze, and confront them with such miracles and insoluble mysteries, that some of them, unruly and ferocious, will exterminate themselves.

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Women have got it all wrong now. They give it up too soon, and the men don't respect them. And before you tell me I don't have a clue, let me tell you something. By the time I let my future husbands climb into my bed, I'd made them work for it. And you know what? By the time they left it the next morning, they were begging for me to marry them.

— Rose Wynters

You know what I mean? Real and unreal, beautiful and strange, like a dream. It got me high as a kite, but it didn't last long enough. It ended too soon and left nothing behind."
That's how it is with dreams," said Priscilla. "They're the perfect crime.

— Tom Robbins

I can't impose on my friends for too long. I'm not sure what to do." He tipped her face up and brushed a kiss across her lips. "You'll marry me, of course. As soon as it can be arranged." Her pulse skipped, and she pulled back. "Right away?" His eyes were smiling and full of love. "I'd marry you tomorrow if we could arrange it that quickly." The thought of being a family with him and Edward brought heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'd like that more than anything in the world," she said. "Tell me what to do and I'll arrange it." "There are so many things to do, I don't know where to start," she said, laughing. The smile left his face. "When, my love?" The possessiveness in his voice heated her cheeks even more. "I need at least two weeks. I have to make a dress." "I'll buy you one." "I want to make it. I'll only have one wedding day.

— Colleen Coble

I decided in high school that I wasn't going to get married too soon. I'd forgotten that you can also wait too long, and then the only candies left in the box are the squished ones, rejected for their questionable insides. And if I'm honest, I'd have to count myself among those with questionable insides.

— Elizabeth Berg

Much of what I have done is left unfinished- not because I left it too soon, not because I was lazy, but because it had a life of it's own that continues without me. Children, I suppose, are always unfinished business: they begin as part of your own body, and continue as seperate as another continent. The work you do, if it has any meaning, passes to other hands. The day slides into a night's dreaming.
True stories are the ones that lie open at the border, allowing a crossing, a further frontier. The final frontier is just science fiction -don't believe it. Like the universe, there is no end. (p.87)

— Jeanette Winterson

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