William Makepeace Thackeray Quotes

The nature of love had totally escaped her until now. She had thought that if you lost it, you could never get it back, like a stone thrown down a well. But it was like the water at the bottom of the well, there when you can't even see it, shifting in the dark.

People don't always realize that a record is forever. It'll always be there under your name. You've got to be certain that it's right.

That's the thing about interviews, at some point you're going to change your mind. But it's there forever and you can't escape it.

When you say, 'I'm going to sing it once, and everyone is going to hear it forever,' that's kind of frightening.

You can never repeat certain things. It's only once in a lifetime.

When you write something by hand, there's a sort of intimacy that is just intrinsic to that act. You don't get to delete something in the same way, where it's like it was never there.

I think it would be the biggest regret of mine - getting anything tattooed.

A first love is something that lasts forever in your heart. It's something that marks you.

I don't like tattoos because tattoos are forever.

She gets on you under your skin like a tattoo she'll always be there!

He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past.

Sorrow may be a good thing for a woman's heart, but it is a poor cosmetic for her face.

Character, like porcelain-ware, must be painted before it is glazed. There can be no change of color after it is burned in.

You're burned into my mind forever. There is nothing, nothing in this world that will ever change that.

Leave a mark they can't erase, neither space nor time.

Where is the woman who has ever really torn from her heart the image that has been once fixed in it by a true love? Books tell us that such unearthly creatures have existed - but what does our own experiences say in answer to books?

A mental stain can neither be blotted out by the passage of time nor washed away by any waters.

The man who offers an insult writes it in sand, but for the man who receives it, it's chiseled in bronze.

Ada girl, adored girl, [...] I'm a radiant void. I'm convalescing after a long and dreadful illness. You cried over my unseemly scar, but now life is going to be nothing but love and laughter, and corn in cans. I cannot brood over broken hearts, mine is too recently mended.

Make no mistake, the woman had a heart. She had a bigger one that people would think. There was a lot in it, stored up, high in miles of hidden shelving. Remember that she was the woman with the instrument strapped to her body in the long, moon-slit night.

He couldn't tell that this was one of those occasions a man never forgets: a small cicatrice had been made on the memory, a wound that would ache whenever certain things combined - the taste of gin at mid-day, the smell of flowers under a balcony, the clang of corrugated iron, an ugly bird flopping from perch to perch.

Indelible, adj. That first night, you took your finger and pointed to the top of my head, then traced a line between my eyes, down my nose, over my lips, my chin, my neck, to the center of my chest. It was so surprising. I knew I would never mimic it. That one gesture would be yours forever.

The bruise on the heart which at first feels incredibly tender to the slightest touch eventually turns all the shades of the rainbow and stops aching. We forget about it. We even forget we have hearts until the next time. And then we wonder how we ever could have forgotten. We think this one is better, because, in fact, we cannot fully remember the time before.

The most terrible thing about it is not that it breaks one’s heart—hearts are made to be broken—but that it turns one’s heart to stone.

As you get older, the heart shed its leaves like a tree. You cannot hold out against certain winds. Each day tears away a few more leaves; and then there are the storms that break off several branches at one go. And while nature’s greenery grows back again in the spring, that of the heart never grows back.