Robert Louis Stevenson Quotes

Don't you just love these long rainy afternoons in New Orleans when an hour isn't just an hour — but a little bit of eternity dropped in your hands — and who knows what to do with it?

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted. "No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full - of butterflies.

Less than a month ago all of August still stretched before us - long and golden and reassuring, like an endless period of delicious sleep.

Boredom is like a pitiless zooming in on the epidermis of time. Every instant is dilated and magnified like the pores of the face.

Ay me! sad hours seem long.

Architects and painters know precisely what they are about as long as they deal with material phenomena.... But when they come to the aesthetics of their work, when they aim at a particular effect on the mind or on the senses, the rules dissolve into nothing but vague ideas.

In the long dusks of summer we walked the suburban streets through scents of maple and cut grass, waiting for something to happen.

The hours of a wise man are lengthened by his ideas, as those of a fool are by his passions. The time of the one is long, because he does not know what to do with it; so is that of the other, because he distinguishes every moment of it with useful or amusing thoughts--or, in other words, because the one is always wishing it away, and the other always enjoying it.

It could not have been ten seconds, and yet it seemed a long time that their hands were clasped together. He had time to learn every detail of her hand.

I'm so bored. I went to the food locker yesterday to visit my meat.

Sunday afternoons are the longest afternoons of all.

How ungenerously in later life we disclaim the virtuous moods of our youth, living in retrospect long, summer days of unreflecting dissipation.

He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.

A child forgets a time of hunger but never forgets the aching want of other things.

Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.

We grow up hungry for love, and in ways so deep as to remain unexpressed we long for our Maker to love us.

I do love the beginning of the summer hols,' said Julian. They always seem to stretch out ahead for ages and ages.' 'They go so nice and slowly at first,' said Anne, his little sister. 'Then they start to gallop.

People are content to wait a long time for salvation, but prefer dinner to turn up inside an hour.

I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.

Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings, saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.

Growing up in the English countryside seemed an interminable process. Freezing winter gave way to frosty spring, which in turn merged into chilly summer-but nothing ever, ever happened.

I wanted to wake you straightaway, but I knew I had to wait several hours to ensure you were safely recovered." "What! How long has it been?" "Five minutes. I got bored.

I hope it won't take long.

In the summer, the days were long, stretching into each other. Out of school, everything was on pause and yet happening at the same time, this collection of weeks when anything was possible.