Quotes About Strangers

the war taught me that nothing counts as much as loyalty Bullshit. you still haven't learned that when humans are under pressure, we're all willing to lie even to the people we care? we lie more to our loved ones, because we care about them so damn much. why do you think we tell the truth to priests and shrinks and total strangers we meet on trains? it's because we don't love them, so we don't care what they think.

we love what we love and who we love who we love and why we love why we love and find a falling shoelace knotted and strung between the fingers of strangers

What part of me was born with the courage to stand in front of strangers and risk rejection?

Isn't it curious how, very occasionally, we have a strong and inexplicable feeling about a complete stranger? Most of the time, someone we don't know is just someone we don't know. Perhaps we form an impression of them on account of how they dress, speak, or move. We usually have no expectation, no feeling—good or bad—when we first encounter a new person.

When a dog barks at the moon, then it is religion; but when he barks at strangers, it is patriotism!

There is not beneath the sky an enemy to filial affection so destructive as slavery. It had made my brothers and sisters strangers to me; it converted my mother who bore me into a myth; it shrouded my father in mystery, and left me without an intelligible beginning in the world.

What is inspiration in strangers is jealousy in kinsmen.

We cannot possibly let ourselves get frozen into regarding everyone we do not know as an absolute stranger.

The kindness of strangers and the support of the international community are truly the rays of hope we North Korean people need.

Instead of showing strangers kindness and giving them the benefit of the doubt, we increasingly show them only fear, and that is bad for us and them.

Nothing kinder than strangers. Nothing stranger than kindness.

I count on the kindness of strangers.

There are times when the kindness of strangers only makes things worse because one realizes how badly one is in need of kindness and that the only source is a stranger.

We take out our frustrations on unsuspecting strangers every day, never stopping to acknowledge that these people have hopes and dreams just like we do.

One of the characteristics of the dream is that nothing surprises us in it. With no regret, we agree to live in it with strangers, completely cut off from our habits and friends.

In some ways we were more remote than strangers because strangers at least have the possibility of yet unmade connections.

How little do the lips and heart agree! How joyfully do people break their word! We both are strangers in a foreign land.

Luca has difficulty reconciling all the genuine kindness of strangers. It seems impossible that good people—so many good people—can exist in the same world where men shoot up whole families at birthday parties and then stand over their corpses and eat their chicken.

Luca has difficulty reconciling all the genuine kindness of strangers. It seems impossible that good people—so many good people—can exist in the same world where men shoot up whole families at birthday parties and then stand over their corpses and eat their chicken. There's a frazzling thrum of confusion that arcs out of Luca's brain when he tries to make those two facts sit side by side.

Whatever it is, we always depend on the kindness of the strange.

Yes, I do think William is serious. But you don't need to be worried, dear. No one is going to hurry you, least of all William himself. He is a very fine young man. Of course you feel like strangers now. But I think you'll find sufficient to talk about before long.

I especially loved to walk around at night and catch glimpses through windows of strangers living their lives. So many different dinnertimes, so many different work hours. Everyone was different ages, different races. Some people were resting, some laboring, some all alone, some celebrating in boisterous company. I never tired of moving through these scenes. I relished the sensation of being one small dot of humanity in a larger ocean of souls.

Strangers are strange to each other.

I have sometimes been sad that Tennessee Williams wrote that line for Blanche DuBois, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. Many of us have been saved many times by the kindness of strangers, but after a while it sounds trite, like a bumper sticker. And that's what makes me sad, that a beautiful and true line comes to be used so often that it takes on the superficial sound of a bumper sticker.