Historical Quotes

Imagination is highly suspect. Reality is what is beautiful. But we are blind to it because it is familiar.

Books are an extension of our imagination

If I kiss you now, I won't be able to stop.

Archive material is vital to the writer of historical fiction.

The best historical stories capture the modern imagination because they are, in many senses, still current - part of a continuum.

I am afraid, my dear niece, that a ‘mere woman’ is something you most certainly are not.

You can cower, ” she told them in a clear voice, wrapping her long shaking fingers around the cold iron bars. “But I will stand.

Technologies that change society are technologies that change interactions between people

It was regarded as almost outside the proper interest of an analyst to give systematic attention to a person's real experiences.

The strength was always in you. All you had to do was find it.

He knew for certain that she belonged forever in his arms, just as he knew she didn’t realize it yet.

There's a saying, " Aeneas said: "Keep an eye on Greeks when they offer gifts." He spoke wryly. "Horses, particularly.

As their figures recede, it strikes Filsan as ironic that they had delayed fleeing so they could take as many of their possessions as possible, but now those very possessions prevent their flight.

Tell me you won't go, tell me you'll stay forever, tell me you love me.

Men may fight the battle, but women wage the war.

Could he really want a relationship with a woman who was at the point in life of trading beauty for wisdom?

The last time Sean found trouble, she arrived in a package of blonde hair and blue eyes.” ~ Giles on Jem

There is no home without you.

I need you more than I need the sunshine.

Bethany Mead cringed against the stone wall of her cell. Greeves was guarding the female ward this night. She hated Greeves…

He who writes is the martyr, seen through the eyes of the unassuming doll.

Their eyes locked.They could see into each other's souls. This was why she had been bored.

She opened her eyes and touched her lips, as though he had just kissed them. She could taste him.

Only one word describes a woman widowed for the second time on her wedding night – cursed.

Listen to the earth, Feel the fire. Allow the power to flow through ye.

A man from the wood. A stranger from afar. He will break the curse by a hundred kisses...

You're special, Deirdre, and don't ever think otherwise.

Between the sands of time and tradition is a multitude of truths untold.

When you travel, buy a historical book about the place, read to increase your knowledge on the beautiful places of the world.

History is rich knowledge. In your travel, learn brief history of the place visited.

The typewriter is indeed my passport into a world otherwise barred to me and my kind.

Saturated Arrogance...imprisoned musescried to be freeshe took away their quillsand saiddo not bother me...

Life is volatile.

How men fear the chaos of the world, I thought, and the yawning eternity hereafter. So we build patterns to explain its terrible mysteries and reassure ourselves we are safe in this world and beyond.

Life, like that water droplet, is everlasting and imperishable. There is only a transition, never an end !

He didn’t save women. He damned them.

I canna let you die like Da, ” he said softly. “And yet ye canna let me live, ” she replied.

I reckon it’s true what they say that good begets good and bad begets bad. The evil men do lives on after them, but what good they done gets buried with their bones.

If Miss Elton spoke water instead of words, then there would have been a repetition of Noah’s flood.

I’m an idiot for trying to avoid these feelings because they have caused me pain in the past.

I've deprived my family in order to buy books. No doubt there is a special punishment in hell for such self-indulgence. Perhaps I shall be struck with blindness among the rarest known to men.

Humans are curious creatures. What we cannot see, our logical minds will try to deny.

It would be, like all of Pammy's parties, hot and crowded and filled with impossibly glamorous people with hip bones so sharp they could qualify as concealed weapons.

I look up and watch the bad parts of me shrinking to dots in the wide blue.

The early morning sunshine shot up the ice-covered valley. It glinted off the backs of slumbering mastodon, reflected between the antlers of caribou.

For whom do you cry, my son?” the Great Spirit asked.“I do not know.”“Yes, you do.

This is a time of change, ” the Shaman said. “This is a time of enormous power.

Do you understand the meaning of the soil beneath your feet?

The other Clans will soon arrive. The greatest times of our family are before us. And so are the darkest.

We the People . . . The People of the Long House.