Quotes About Retreat

it came to feel more a fortress than a home. A fortress of solitude.

Lorsque tout va mal, laissez tomber et allez à la bibliothèque.

I love home. I'll stay up there for days on end, I won't even go down the driveway to look for the mail.

one of the lounge chairs. Serena

Tyranny grows slowly, and asks us to retreat in comparatively tiny steps. But each retreat increases the possibility of the next retreat. Each betrayal of conscience, each act of silence (despite the resentment we feel when silenced), and each rationalization weakens resistance and increases the probability of the next restrictive move forward.

The theist and the scientist are rival interpreters of nature, the one retreats as the other advances.

A pang shot through her as she realized how absolutely she trusted the tabby warrior to guard them while they retreated.

Many of the gunters on the front lines took an involuntary step backward. A few others turned and ran for their lives.

My father's face contorted in pain, and that was when I turned and walked away, well out of earshot, to let them talk in private—and to avoid a crying jag of my own.

We ourselves are the last to notice that we are not making any headway. It is brought to our notice from the outside; former students suddenly emerge as our superiors. As we grow older, the respect we receive diminishes: the disproportion between our age and our position becomes evident, first to other people and finally to ourselves. Then it is time to retreat.

I totally alienated some reporters as I retreated.

Progress is seldom simple; it comes with costs and casualties, even challenges about whether a change represents an advance or a retreat.

The heroes of the present will retreat to the imitation they are anyhow.

Snow pursued by the wind is not wholly unlike a retreating army. In the open field it ranges itself in ranks and battalions; where it can get a foothold it makes a stand; where it can take cover it does so. You may see whole platoons of snow cowering behind a bit of broken wall.

bathroom—if you

Straightforward fiction functions only as more Bubble Wrap, nostalgia, retreat.

In my deepest troubles, I frequently would wrench myself from the persons around me and retire to some secluded part of our noble forests.

If I want to be alone, some place I can write, I can read, I can pray, I can cry, I can do whatever I want - I go to the bathroom.

I wanted a garret hideaway to write in like Jo March in 'Little Women.'

I long for, not a writer's retreat - I can write in any situation - but a reader's retreat.

Each writer had a bedroom in the main house and a shack or "work cottage" in which to write. We all met up for dinner at night. That was it. There was no Internet, no TV, no phones, yes lights, but no motorcar, not a single luxury.

Ali gestured with her eyes for me to look right. I followed the gesture to Coach Bobby. "Don't you dare fight him," she said. "He challenged me," I said. "The bigger man steps away." "In the movies maybe. In places filled with pixie dust and Easter Bunnies and pretty fairies. But in real life, the man who steps away is considered a big-time wuss.

Having a place out of the city is a shortcut toward the mental reset I need.

A mistress should be like a little country retreat near the town, not to dwell in constantly, but only for a night and away.