Quotes About Exile

Fuck words, nothing spoken comprehends the defiantly ephemeral. I take my incompleteness with the rest, an exile in any language.

we build him a temple, but we live in our own houses." Religion had been exiled to Sunday morning, to a place "into which one gladly withdraws for a couple of hours, but only to get back to one's place of work immediately afterward.

How many people are ready to die for beauty, prepared to go through an infernal desert of starvation. Absence of beauty means ultimate loneliness. Absence of beauty means guilt and exile into a no-man's land. Life is an outcast's journey through a gloomy valley, when beauty has forsaken. ("Absence of beauty was like hell").

Bluestar blinked. "There are cats who would argue that there should never have been a fifth Clan in the forest at all. Why are there four oaks at Fourtrees, if not to stand for the four Clans?" Firestar gazed up at the massive oak trees, then back at Bluestar. Fury pure as a lighting flash rushed through his body. "Are you mouse-brained?" he snarled. "Are you telling me SkyClan had to leave because there weren't enough trees?

He had sworn undying vengeance as he was sent into exile, and Fireheart was sure that his bloodthirsty attempt to set the dog pack on the cats of ThunderClan would not be his last attempt to fulfill his oath.

I'm not Earth anymore." Anger hardened Tree's mew. "I named myself Tree after you sent me away.

Each member of this shadowy network resented the others, who were irritating reminders that nothing was more American, whatever that means, than fleeing the American, whatever that is, and that their soft version of self-imposed exile was just another of late empire's packaged tours.

You can imprison a man, but not an idea. You can exile a man, but not an idea. You can kill a man, but not an idea.

In 1914, the socialists exiled me, and in 1915, the syndicalists exiled me. And despite this, by 1919, the Fasces were mine. This was because I had killed the socialists, I had killed the syndicalists. Your enemy's life is the only thing standing in the way of your victory.

Other men condemned to exile and captivity, if they survive, despair; the man of letters may reckon those days as the sweetest of his life

For years, in the wake of Rushdie, I had imagined magical realism to be the last refuge of the non-resident Indian.

We live in the age of the refugee, the age of the exile.

I am the face of a refugee. I was once a refugee. I was with my family in exile.

All I want to achieve is to present the unreported history of Kashmiri Hindus.

Sometimes he felt like he'd been gone his whole life--in exile, away from the place he was supposed to be, and that, soldier-like, he was pining to be returned. Homesick for a place he'd never been.

Sometimes he felt like he'd been gone his whole life—in exile, away from the place he was supposed to be, and that, soldier-like, he was pining to be returned. Homesick for a place he'd never been.

The book of Jeremiah is a constant reminder of God's faithfulness to his word in Deuteronomy that his elect will be cursed by exile for their unfaithfulness to Yahweh but will be restored at a later time with the hope of a new covenant—which was fulfilled through Jesus Christ, David's "righteous Branch" (Jer 23:5).

It was a measure of just how lost and lonely I was, in my exile, that I looked forward to fighting him.

I was exiled from my family, homeland, and culture. I thought that was the whole of it. Years into the banishment, I realised that I was exiled to something, as well. What I escaped to was the lonely, reckless freedom of the outcast.

Every object was significant; in my hunted exile, the windowsill had become my home, and the talismans were my nation.

Like Riina, my people have been cast out and ostracized from the place in which we feel we belong. It almost killed us, but as have many others in such situations, we found our own way to survive.

By engaging in a delusive quest for happiness, we bring only suffering upon ourselves. In our frantic search for something to quench our thirst, we overlook the water all around us and drive ourselves into exile from our own lives.

Exile is not a time frame. Exile is an experience. It's a sentiment.

The boundary between being an exile and being mad seemed to be a fine one... losing one's rightful place in the world could mean losing one's mind.